48 Steps to your Worst Run

Actually, this post would be more accurately titled 48 Stories to your Worst Run. Yesterday we had our semiannual emergency evacuation which meant that I had to descend 48 stories under my own power. At 22 steps per story (yes, I counted them) that means that I traversed 1,056 steps. Let me tell you, being a runner doesn’t exercise your stair-descending-muscles (that’s the technical term for them) in the same way that running does. It also probably doesn’t help that I live in a ranch style home and never have to use stairs.

Of course, I am nothing if not vain so you wouldn’t have known it by watching me yesterday. I gracefully floated down the fire escape stairs, barely touching each step before moving on to the next one. I was passing my panting coworkers in droves and yelling annoyingly “left... left” each time I came up behind one of them. I actually felt pretty good when I got to the bottom and was mildly amused at the patchwork of gravy sweat-stains that my colleagues were now sporting. I think that my mistake came in sitting at my desk for the remainder of my day and failing to stretch.

My legs felt tired when I got home, and I could already tell that there was going to be some soreness the next day but I wasn’t about to let that knock me off my training schedule. I went out and ran 5 miles in the blowing snow, quite proud of myself that I wasn’t like my unhealthy coworkers who I’d overheard saying things like “well, I guess I got my workout done for the week.” The run was scheduled as a 3 mile tempo run (with a warm up and cool down mile added to make 5 total miles) and as soon as I started my first tempo mile I knew that I was in trouble. By the end of the run my legs had turned into lead weights, dead sexy lead weights, but lead weights nonetheless.

Despite a little residual soreness today, I’m doing great. The talk around the coffee maker this morning was about how sore everyone was from yesterday’s fire drill. When they looked at me for comment I didn’t really lie about being sore, but I did shrug dismissively and say “Eh, I ran 5 miles when I got home last night.” That’s right, I’m that guy.