Day 92: The Back Strikes Back

After yesterday’s promising threshold run, it really felt like I had turned a corner. Unfortunately, my back had other ideas. I woke at around 4 a.m. to a gnawing pain in my lower back and then again at 6:30 am just in case I’d forgotten about it. It was back, and it was demanding attention—ignoring it was about as effective as ignoring a tax bill.

The Roast That Broke Me

Despite this unwelcome development, I pressed on with my pre-Mother’s Day errands, determined not to let a bit of pain disrupt the grand plan. By midday, I was in full roast-dinner mode, cooking up a feast for the family. Now, I suspect that standing for hours over a hot stove, lifting heavy trays and wrestling with an uncooperative joint of meat are not top-tier recommendations for lower back recovery. But if you’re going to suffer, you might as well do it surrounded by gravy and Yorkshire puddings.

A Laughable Promise

Somewhere in between basting and boiling, I made a bold commitment: I would run after dinner. In hindsight, that was an optimistic promise, on par with saying, “I’ll just have one biscuit.” By the time the plates were cleared, my back had fully declared itself the reigning authority of my Saturday and I spent the rest of the day sitting very, very still, trying not to breathe too enthusiastically.

Tomorrow, We’ll See

Four weeks to go. It’s crunch time, and every missed run feels like an existential crisis. But all I can do is rest, regroup, and hope that tomorrow, my back is willing to negotiate terms. For now, I remain seated, moving only when strictly necessary.