Injury Chronicles: The End of Exile and Life with Quasimodo

Well, I'm coming to the end of my 6-weeks' self-imposed exile from running and pretty much all other physical activities.  It's gone alright, which is to say that I've adhered to the full-rest aspect of my plan but have done so in a particularly moody and twitchy manner that has left me searching for the bells atop Notre Dame from which to swing.  Life around the house with me could easily be classified as "difficult," "unpleasant," or "Bergmanesque."

But, June 26 - Western States weekend - I'll be released for my first run, which is likely to take less time than a typical aid station stop but is something I'm very much looking forward to.  The skies here in the Northern Rockies are finally starting to clear, the temperatures are rising, and the lupin are beginning their colorful reach - the start of singletrack high season.

Yet, if I'm honest, I have to admit that the past week or so has been pointedly difficult, what with Bighorn last weekend (my first 100 miler last year) and Western this weekend (my main target this year). And although the knee has been feeling pretty good, and I'm optimistic about its prospects, it's also let me know once or twice that the road back may continue to be bumpy.

Right now, though, I don't want to worry about that.  All I really need to do is rest for five more days, then enjoy a summer filled with the simple pleasure of banging out some easy sun-drenched miles and letting the trail take me wherever it wants to go.