Injuries just suck....especially when they are my fault

It's the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I've got a 5k in two days, so what does this nincompoop do? "Let's see how we might run the race", meaning let's run FAST for the scheduled 3 miler. I had tweaked my left calf just a little a few days before but Mr. Testosterone told me that I could push it. Wrong. About a quarter of a mile from the end of the run, my calf popped. I'm not sure if it was a deep cramp or a minor pull but I did know that the race was out of the question (OK, I admit that when I woke up Thanksgiving morning, I tested the leg just in case it miraculously healed in two days. It hadn't). In light of the fact that I have about 130 days until the marathon, and that it was a major gluttonous holiday, I told myself to take a week off from all exercise. Nothing. Nada. No mas. (Sue, if you happen to read this, I owe those last two to you (and Mrs. Cavanaugh and Mrs. Heck). I couldn't have gotten through Spanish without you!). Well, my lay-low plans came apart on Sunday, mainly due to the anxiety of not working out. I could have told you this would happen but didn't know how bad NOT working out would make me feel. So Sunday, I went back to the elliptical for an hour followed by some upper body lifting. Same thing this (Monday) morning.

Funny thing about this whole experience. I've been hurt before, MANY times, and unable to participate - torn MCL, too many hamstrings to count, hands, shoulders and ankles. This is the first one that was completely preventable and that was my own fault. Just stupidity and my own desire to prove that Father Time hadn't caught up. With every other injury during the past 45 years, I looked forward to the down time. This time, I loathed every minute. I NEEDED to work out. Had to. It was the cloud hanging over my head. No, endorphins didn't play a part. Just the feeling of wasting the past few years of getting there was enough to give me the urge. Sure, I feel crappy sometimes during the exertion and yes, sometimes my various body parts hurt but it's how I feel after the workout that I crave. The feeling of satisfaction, discipline, accomplishment, and achievement that comes after fulfilling a plan is incredible and irreplaceable. Now the big question - is this experience filling in for something that work was heretofore providing? If it is, what happens after my body tells me that the exercise is too much? Is the ever increasing desire for "farther, longer, faster, run-til-you-can't" going to manifest itself into some set of goals that I am yet unable to imagine?

I'm thinking too much....

And for anyone who is reading this (which I strongly doubt), thanks.