Running In Place

Well to begin with, thank you for the encouraging responses to my last post. I do try to be unsinkable, my outlook on life is really an optimistic one and I usually do try to tie things up in an everything will be as it’s supposed to be bow, but I was feeling more scared than Zen. Everything can be as it’s supposed to be, as long as I’m supposed to be running! To be clear, my estrangement from Running was not so much due to a lack of motivation as the awaiting of medical clearance (for whatever that’s worth anyway). I will readily admit that my motivation to swim and bike has waned dramatically in the last couple of weeks and, in fact, I have become weirdly resentful of them. It’s not Biking and Swimming’s fault, I think the resentment is really about the realization that I am a bad runner. I’m not talking about being slow, I’m talking about the fact that I am so big and ungainly that, despite the fact that I follow every stupid rule, I have been downed by some problem or injury four times in the last 2 years. I mean, c’mon. Talk about unrequited love. It’s really frustrating. And now, just now, that I finally got a thumbs up to run from the ortho - well, really just a blanket “activity as tolerated” with the caveat that “you may very well flare things up again,” I’m delighted and terrified. Because here I am - again - and I’ll start slow and take it easy and listen to my body and all that happy stuff….and then what? How long before this pain fires up again or some new one is born. How long before I’ve lost another couple of months to whatever bullshit disorder my body contrives. I know I know, I probably sound horribly self-piteous - I prefer to call it righteous indignance.

In any case, yes I have had a run or two - an easy 2 miles and an even easier 3 - and dammit if it wasn’t bliss. And you know that’s so kind of bittersweet because I feel that old joy coming back but it’s tempered with this fear that, at any moment, something could blow up. I won’t let myself think ‘probably will’ blow up because, believe it or not, I’m an optimist at heart - but it’s right there on the fringes - anticipating the next disaster. And I really dislike thinking that way but I’ve nearly been conditioned to it. But anyway, I did run and I am glad to say that the hope is at least elbowing for position with the fear.

Medically speaking, the ortho is questioning whether the enchondroma is really the source of the problem. He suspects the meniscus and has sent me along to PT. I also have to see a bone tumor specialist at the teaching hospital about 60 miles down the road because, in very rare instances, these types of bone growths can be malignant. It really is so unlikely that I’m not too worried, but I will admit that I’m a little freaked out about having a biopsy. Needles don’t generally bother me but the whole delving into bone thing is a little yucky, you know? But all of that aside, I ran and it was so good, and that’s what I have to think about. And I did get on my bike tonight and ride because I am going to be a good little cross-trainer. And it’s not Bike’s fault that I am so fiercely monogamous.

Now, I think I have finally had to admit to myself that the Boilermaker is not to be. I’d love to believe that I could get from 3 miles to 9 in less than 4 weeks - maybe most folks could - but it’s not a bet I can afford to hedge. That’s the chance I took when I bought my ticket, right? But there’s also this part of me that just isn’t able to rule it out entirely - you know that little bit of your brain that languishes in possibilities, realistic or not. I hate to stifle that part. And I hate to be dictated by fear. And I hate that I am spending so much time second guessing myself. But I love running - so love will find a way or, love will tear us apart…again.

And, rather than closing on that poignant thought, I’m adding a post-script:
If you haven’t already, I totally recommend visiting Chris at Fat Guy Gets Fit. I’ve been reading his stuff for a couple of years now, from trail marathons to getting organized with index cards to some really clever artwork and creative cues to a podcast on fitness, nutrition & self-improvement. Am I gushing? What can I say, I’m a groupie. Anyway, he’s initiated a 12 Week Fitness Challenge that just happened to be the thing I needed right at this moment - not just in re-setting myself in a running routine, but in pulling myself out of this emotional funk. I totally urge you to check him out.