Equinox

Eight years ago, I was standing on the end of a jetty in Two Harbors, Minn., on the night of the summer equinox. The longest day of the year would be followed the next morning by the longest race of my running career — Grandma's Marathon.

A year's worth of planning and training brought us there. And as the cool night fell, I felt good about how the next day would go. (Note: The next day was good ... enough, with equal parts awesome and horrible all wrapped in one. You know, like most marathons.)

A year's worth of planning has me sitting here, the morning after the summer equinox, drinking coffee. A marathon is not in the works for today. Nor is a run, a jog, or even a bike ride.

Despite what I've been hoping and aiming toward over the last week, it's just not happening. My hip really isn't getting much better. I should clarify: In general, the bruise and resulting nearby muscle soreness is getting better. But there's one spot that isn't getting better at all — and that lack of improvement is troubling.

Why that one spot? Whatever it is, it makes getting on and off the bike hurt like hell. Once I'm on, no problem. But it's the before and after.

Yes, I'm going to have it checked out today.

Regardless of the outcome, it's feeling more and more like another lost summer. The optimism of a week ago is long gone. I planned on using the five weeks between Norfolk and Omaha as a tune-up — a sharpening of skills. I wanted to be ready to really mix it up.

Tomorrow, it'll be two weeks off the bike. I had a tight schedule before the crash and missed a couple of days. They've all been missed days since. Instead of faster, stronger and leaner, I feel slower, weaker and soft.

If I could get on the bike today, I think I'd be OK for Omaha. But given how this thing feels ... I just don't see it. Hopefully I can get back on form by August and get into the fall on the right note.

Right now, though, all of the notes are in minor keys.