Hurtin' for certain

I’m still not anywhere near 100 percent healthy. Not my Achilles tendon. Not my lungs. Not even close.

I’ve been battling these two things – an oft-inflamed right Achilles tendon and some sort of respiratory crud – since mid-to-late September. Seems longer than that though.

The respiratory issue isn’t serious. Just nagging. I have this dead-sexy wheeze that Darth Vader would envy, and I’m able to produce voluminous amounts of phlegm as a result of this ailment. Nothing serious. Certainly nothing that should cause me to consult a physician.

Same with the Achilles. Right? Right?

Um, I’m beginning to wonder. And I am Mr. I’mNOTGoingToSeeA[insert profane adjective(s) of your choice here]DoctorForThis.

My aversion to physicians isn’t because I simply don’t care for them, their personalities, their affirmations of my self-diagnoses, their co-pays or antiseptic-smelling offices. OK, maybe it is.

So when I even begin to think about beginning to think about consulting a medical professional you know I’m starting to get concerned about something.

This time it’s this Achilles. The good news is that now, on my very limited running schedule – one four-mile run a week at this point in the offseason – I’m not experiencing the warm sensations in the back of my foot like I previously did. Of course, that might be the result of the weather; maybe it’s too cold for anything to feel warm. On a similarly positive note, the tendon isn’t tightening up after only a mile or two.

It now takes three miles before that happens. Sign of progress? I’m hopeful.

But the stiffness and tenderness I feel behind my ankle after my runs and in subsequent days leads me to believe that I’m nowhere near healed.

I was hoping to be able to log another 50-plus miles this year. I was hoping to be able to maintain a nominal weekly mileage total throughout the remainder of this year and the first couple weeks of 2006. I don’t think that’s going to happen now. I’m afraid I’m going to have to shut myself down completely for at least a few weeks and then reassess my injury. To do anything more than that would be pure folly.

I know this. I know this. The question is, Can I follow through with what I know is the best thing for my body? I’m not so sure. If you’ve ever run, ever experienced the countless positive effects it can have on a person’s entire being, you have an idea how difficult it will be for me to refrain from running. Even in Minnesota in December and January. Even on a bum Achilles.

Wish me luck with this. And please don’t tell my mother that I might – just maybe, possibly – have a running-related injury. Let’s keep this our little secret. I’ll try not to limp in her presence. You don’t mention anything about my injury. Deal? Please. Otherwise I’ll never – NEVER – hear the end of how “I wish you wouldn’t run so much,” “All that running isn’t good for you,” “I wish you would take a year or so off from running,” You should go see a doctor,” and, of course, “I told you something like this would happen someday because of all that running you do.”