I was late to training tonight, by like two minutes. But the group apparently got an early start. That was fine by me, since I wanted to have a few minutes to talk to my coaches about my shins. I stretched while waiting to have that coach’s undivided attention.

Me: Let’s talk about my shins.
Coach: Okay, let’s talk about your shins.

I told her about yesterday’s anguish. I said how Saturday was my fastest average pace and I likely overdid it, but that my shins have been bothering me.

C: Have you had shin splints before?
Me: Yes, but not like this.
C: And it’s in both shins?
Me: Yes and No. My left leg has shin splints, but my right leg has screaming pain. Like nothing I’ve felt before.
C: See, screaming pain sends up all kinds of red flags for me. Screaming pain does not sound like shin splints, we could be talking stress fracture here.
Me: That’s what two of my friends suggested.
C: Do you have insurance?
Me: Yes.
C: HMO or PPO?
Me: I’m not sure, I think a PPO.
C: I hope so, because that’ll be a lot easier for you. Tomorrow, I want you to call an orthopedic doctor. When they answer the phone, I want you to ask them if any of their doctors are runners, because non-runner doctors are going to treat you differently than a doctor who runs. A doctor who runs will understand your goals better than a non-runner, you know? A non-runner will tell you not to run for six weeks while a runner will have suggestions to help you continue training without further hurting yourself.
Me: Okay.
C: I would tell you to get new shoes, but those look new.
Me: They are. I won them at the kick off!
C: Oh, congratulations! Wait… where’d you get them?
Me: Fleet Feet.
C: Oh. I should have asked you about your shoes first. Did they have you buy inserts?
Me: Yea.
C: Let me see them, take your shoes off.
::I removed my right shoe::
C: ::swearing under her breath:: I want you to take those effing things out of your shoes, excuse my French, but I get so mad at that store. They make a huge profit on those things and try to get all their customers to buy them, but they always seem to lead to more problems. You don’t have the original inserts with you, do you?
Me: No.
C: When you get home, I want you to swap them back out. You have a 50/50 chance that that will solve your shin problem.
Me: Okay.
C: I hope it’s something that simple for you, because otherwise you’re going to have to spend a bunch of money at the doctor’s office. But it could just be those effing inserts. We have asked and asked Fleet Feet not to sell inserts to our runners needlessly. Last year, I had more problems with my runners who had those stupid inserts. I wish you had won your shoes from Track Shack. That’s all I’m saying.
Me: Okay.
C: So, I want you to only walk tonight. I’m talking turtle slow. I do not want you hurting yourself even more. Then, change out the inserts, and let me know tomorrow how you’re feeling.
Me: Thanks, coach!

So… it could be as simple as taking out those $50 inserts. Which would, frankly, be wonderful. Sure, I’ll feel a bit sheepish about foolishly drinking the kool-aid the store served me, but at least it would be a relatively easy fix.

Tomorrow is a cross training day, so I won’t be running. The woman I met on Saturday caught up to me on my second lap tonight (her third, but I was only walking) and joined me for the final three-quarters of a mile. We live near each other, so we’re talking about training together, and car pooling — especially when the Saturdays are far away, like this coming Saturday is — to events. She suggested we go to Not-Gonna-Tell-You-Which Pool tomorrow after work and swim laps for our cross training. She said she thinks it only costs a couple bucks. She’s going to call them tomorrow and then let me know. So, I guess I’m bringing my bathing suit tomorrow and might be humbling myself by being seen in public in my town in a bathing suit. Swimming, eh? I don’t swim very well. We’ll have to see, though, since Ike is affecting our weather.

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