Resurrection Run

So-I got hurt a few months ago.  Hurt enough that I had to drastically change my running.  Hurt enough that I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon.  Hurt enough that I DNS'ed a race I really wanted to do.  Hurt enough that for the first time in a long time, I couldn't run through it.

I tried not to talk about it.  I forced myself not to limp.  I took A LOT of pain pills.   I iced and iced some more.   I researched.  I foam rolled.  I changed my stride.  I changed my pace.   I modified my training.   I cross-trained.  I started the certification process in something else, in case my running days were behind me.

When I was getting an x-ray, the tech asked me, "So, what are you going to do when he tells you that you can't run anymore?'

My first thought was, "something else".  Very quickly,  my mind flooded with hiking and biking and kayaking and yoga and skiing and etc., etc. etc.  I decided, then and there, I would focus on what I COULD do, vs. what my body was fighting.

That doctor did not tell me to stop running.   In fact, he said, "I don't have another patient like you, so I'm not going to treat you like everyone else.  I want you to run, but do it like someone who just got off the couch to run a 5k".

At first, I didn't listen.  That came to bite me in the butt at the Rock and Roll DC.

That race got the message across loud and clear.   I asked myself these questions:  (teacher friends---sound familiar?)

1.  What are you doing?
2.  Is what you are doing getting you what you want?
3.  If not, why are you doing it?

I went back to the basics.  I recorded my stride and checked out my alignment.   I played with braces, and orthotics.   I even started running on the opposite side of the street.   I questioned everything I was doing, and questioned if it was getting me what I wanted.  I got out of my comfort zone, and got out of my own way.

Flash forward to yesterday.   I ran the inaugural Resurrection Run, sponsored by my favorite Beast Race Directors.   Immediately, when I got to the race, I knew I was not done racing.   I was hugged by friends--the lift-you-up-in-the-air, big squeeze kind of hugs.  I felt loved.   Not one person there cared how fast or far I ran, but, each did his or her part to make me feel like I belonged.

My efforts payed off.   Mother Nature forced me to take a slower pace, and slowly but surely, I filled my bag full of stones.  (Bob, you're gonna have to re-think this lap counting method).

I am eternally grateful to all who support me in my quest.   I feel the support I'm granted from my cheerleaders, who may not be physically with me, but keep me in their thoughts.   The ones who recognize that I am not crazy.    I know that if I never run another step, I will have no regrets.  I have much to be proud of.  I know running is only one facet of me, but, I don't feel like it is time to part ways.  I know there is more for me.

I'll leave this entry with my favorite running quote:

"I know there will come a day that I can not do this.  Today is not that day".


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