Ice, Ice ... Maybe?

Two for the price of one.  Icing the base of my right foot's big toe, while also
icing the heel of my left foot.  That takes talent, people!  (Also note the
red blotch by my knee where I had already iced.  Sad, huh?)

I am sure this is just what you want to see - my bare tootsies on ice.  Sorry, but I thought it was a funny picture.

I am one of those people who rarely ices.  I have to have a pretty serious injury to sit around icing.  It's not that I am against it; I just forget that it is out there as an option.  So, I am grateful when I somehow am reminded that that is one more tool in the toolbelt I have to fight nagging aches and pains.

That's where I am at right now.  Last week's vacation to DC and beyond was supposed to be a recovery week of sorts for me.  Down mileage, few cross-training opportunities, etc.  What I didn't take into consideration was the fact that we would be walking and standing .... a LOT.  By a lot, I mean hours upon hours: several hours one day, almost eight hours the next.  We took cross-training to the next level!  Even with all the walking, I think I would have come away from the week well rested if it hadn't been for the stairs.

In Washington DC we took the metro around town a few times - you know, to avoid the walking?  Well, unfortunately, the metro station near us had a "down" down escalator.  So, instead of being carried into the bowels of the earth in relative comfort, playing imaginary muzak in our heads (doesn't everyone do that?), we got to march down the stairs to the beat of an internal drummer.

I wish I had gotten a picture of the escalator so that my massive whine fest here would make more sense, but I didn't.  Suffice it to say that I am not talking the length of a normal flight of stairs.  I am talking hundreds upon hundreds of steps.  The type of distance where you pause at the top looking down and actually point it out to the children - look, kids, see how far down it goes!  (I think historically it might have even been intended as a bunker of sorts in the event of nuclear attack.)

In any event, we took these monster stairs not once, but twice.  I tried not to complain too much, because touchy patellar tendon twitching and groaning aside, I wasn't the one who had just done a 50-mile running event the day before.  I know Hubby was hurting way more than me.  The problem is that I tend to feel the lingering aftereffects of insults to my body far longer than Hubby does.  So, while he is back to working his way into his running routine, I am icing everything.

Oh well, ice and foam rolling.  If this is what gets me through my marathon, then I am not going to complain about it .... too much.

On another note, I have to say that I am looking forward to rowing today.  I have missed that infernal machine while on vacation.  Hotel fitness centers just don't cater to the rowing crowd.  I wonder why.

Also, in other news, inspired by a friend's homemade granola (I may have eaten about half her stash while she was out teaching a yoga class), I decided to give homemade granola a whirl.  Lucky for me, in the new cookbook I received for my birthday, Fresh from the Vegan Slow Cooker, there was just such a recipe - slow cooker granola.  It wasn't as tasty as J's granola, but it is edible and Hubby and I both enjoyed it for breakfast.  The kids opted for Cheerios.

Happy Running!