Ouch.

For all my flowery language about running, there are days when it sucks. Like today.

My cats decided to have a tussle on my bed this morning, 30 minutes before my alarm was due to go off. So, there's no going back to sleep at this point. I'd taken cold medicine last night to try and ward off the plague, so I was all cotton-headed and cross. But I fed the fighting cats, put on my running gear and set off.

The first mile is always a good indication of what you're dealing with, and it was not pleasant. My calves were whiny and my feet were tender. I must have looked like a little old lady out there today, plodding along listening to "This American Life" on my iPod. Thankfully, Dan Savage was on the tail end of this one. He advocates yelling at your kids. I like Dan Savage.

I don't like this predicament I'm in with my training, though. I have plantar fasciitis, which sounds really sketchy but is actually just sore arches in my feet. Not just -- it sidelines NBA stars and stuff -- but I've been dealing with this stupid injury for 10 years. The only solution is to stop running, which I'm not going to do. So I have orthotics in my shoes, I dutifully do my stretches and when my feet start feeling tender, I roll 'em on a frozen orange juice can.

The problem is that I've got 13 more miles to run this week. That's the training plan. I like plans. I feel rudderless without some sort of overarching agenda in my life, even if it is just a computer-generated 18-week half-marathon training plan. But I'm feeling a little tired and achy today. Am I on the cusp of a bigger injury? Or just feeling off today?

This is the hedging game that every athlete plays with herself. "Can I push this one more day? Two more days?" And every time I push it, I get hurt. To wit: Last year, after my personal record-setting half marathon, I kept going with my marathon training and tore my hip labrum. In retrospect, this was really stupid. But running, for all the good it does for my brain, body and soul, is also a form of addiction.

Will I take tomorrow off? Probably not. I'll just run very, very slowly -- and hope my body cooperates.