The Second Derivitive of Pain

Hello few blog readers who are left! When we last spoke, I was on my way to Europa, the smallest of the Galilean moons, and hoping that a couple of weeks of rest would cure ailing legs. Well, that did not really happen.
While away, I diligently cut out all running related activities and even wore running sneakers, which I thought would be gentle enough on my legs to aid the recovery, much to the chagrin of my betrothed. I got a massage at one point on our trip that I thought may do some kind of good, but it in fact left my legs feeling even more sore and brittle than before.
Upon returning, I was not only in more pain than when I left, but I was actually noticeably limping around. Again, I figured that giving it a little bit of time would be the best solution and the leg would heal. Two more weeks passed and still, there was a diffuse pain in my calf and sharp pains running all the way through my cankles.
As the five week mark of non-running came and went and my weight began to become a legit concern, I figured that enough was enough and the time for rest had passed. Indeed, there is a time in every man's life when he just has to suck it up and face the music.
I laced up my sneaks, got my running kit out of storage, and slowly and grimply made my way down to the treadmill in my building. As I stoically walked through the hallway, I heard the muffled echo "Dead man walking," bouncing off the walls.
I knew that I wouldn't be setting any speed records that run, so I figured that I would start in the low 6's. As the treadmill sped up and I took my first tentative running stride, I felt a crunching pain that caused my knees to buckle. My next step was a little less horrible, and the next one after that was not as horrible as the last. I numbly continued my run feeling a vague crunching pain in my ankle, but doing my best not to limp so I wouldn't screw up my other leg.
After the run, I iced and reflected and figured, "it wasn't that bad, and hey, it felt good to be running and sweating and whatnot again." So I went back the next day, and the next, and so forth.
The pain didn't diminish initially; it in fact got worse as I got farther into my running-through-the-pain attempts. However, the rate at which the pain got worse was getting lower, so I figured that it was a good sign (that is the second derivative of pain, as we say in the biz). After a few weeks, things were getting better and I was making my way on the treadmill more confidently.
This past Saturday, I had my first legit run. I went about 4 miglia outside on a super hilly course with no grass lawns to veer onto. The pain was present, as usual, but it was much diminished from those heady early days when every step was a nightmare. I iced when I was done, as usual, and the next day, I got back outside for another good run.
Things have been pretty good since then. I no longer limp and, while the first couple of steps make me acknowledge the presence of a little bit of a jig in my ankle, it quickly dissipates and, as long as I don't push too hard, I can run pretty well. I won't be setting any speed records any time soon, but just being able to actually run again without dreading it is a welcome return.
I have always been an advocate of the "rest and let it heal" philosophy, but I guess that that only extends so far. I think that at some point, you just need to start to strengthen your weak areas, and resting isn't going to do that. Also, to some small extent, I feel like exposing your injuries to the light of day and having the healing process that normally takes place after runs take over it helpful. We'll see what happens in the future, but for now, things are looking up for the first time in about two months.