"You can still bike, right?" she asks. "Yeah but I haven't done much of that either." I sort of mumbled. She smiled and said, "Yeah, you have to grieve the loss of running first. Then you'll figure out that there is more to life that dashing through the streets on two feet." And as she said this I could feel her words resonate somewhere deep within me. She was right.
Since the boot went on, I've been largely uninspired to do much training at all. Typically, I'd bike 2-3 times per week with at least one of those rides being a hard tempo ride and the other specific to pedal stroke training. I have sort of shrugged them both off for the past couple of weeks. I do ride on the weekends now but only one day and half the time I used to. I had been marveling at my lackluster attitude and almost non-existent motivation to ride until I heard her utter those words.
Running is such a part of me that I am indeed grieving at the loss of it in my life. It is the stick by which I measure my athleticism. I am a runner first, I always have been. Running has delivered me from some of the worst moments of my life and delivered into some of the best. Running is moving meditation, a chance to compete and a way to push myself to the edge physically. Running is the metaphor for my life and I miss having that means of expression.
Today was the most perfect running day! I shuffled to the mailbox dragging the boot behind and sighed. By the time I am "healed", it will be spring. Summer running is not my thing - especially fat which I have a good chance of being given the weeks ahead. All this Fall running will slip right past and leave me with another season of wondering what might have been.
I think for the first time in my life, I am actually sort of depressed. Maybe because for once in my life it seems like my running life could well come to a close. That is something that is very painful for me. If I have to give up running, I will have to give up such a big part of who I think I am.
I have been lucky enough in my life not to have had to mourn much. Mourning is useful. It gives our pain a voice, our loss a purpose. It allows us the opportunity to reflect and determine how we will move forward, adapt and become stronger in the broken places. Despite whatever becomes of my running life, I will never be the same runner I was before I got injured. I wasn't the same runner after the last injury. I will always be different. I will have to adapt. If I can't run, I will have to determine what's next.
But I am new to mourning so I am not sure how it works. Should I be going through all the traditional "grieving" steps? Or will I just sort of feel unmotivated and uninterested for awhile? I am trying to give whatever this is the proper air time. My usual way is to just fix it and move on. Make it better and be off to the next thing. This time I just don't have the energy to do that. I suppose the teacher appears when the student is ready. I'll try to be open to the possibilities.
Nothing is confirmed. There is no unfortunate prognosis. I keep wearing the boot like some sort of storm trooper religion and awaiting that miraculous day in physical therapy when I can be pronounced mechanically sufficient.
Looking on the bright side, the swelling is gone, I can flex my foot to the inside a little bit more than I could before. The pain is also largely gone though the stiffness is still there.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was running barefoot with no pain. I wonder if it's a prophetic dream or if it's just my psyche's way of expressing its longing. Life is about defining and refining. I suppose that's the lesson in this. For now, I am still a runner. An injured runner but a runner until all avenues are exhausted.
Since the boot went on, I've been largely uninspired to do much training at all. Typically, I'd bike 2-3 times per week with at least one of those rides being a hard tempo ride and the other specific to pedal stroke training. I have sort of shrugged them both off for the past couple of weeks. I do ride on the weekends now but only one day and half the time I used to. I had been marveling at my lackluster attitude and almost non-existent motivation to ride until I heard her utter those words.
Running is such a part of me that I am indeed grieving at the loss of it in my life. It is the stick by which I measure my athleticism. I am a runner first, I always have been. Running has delivered me from some of the worst moments of my life and delivered into some of the best. Running is moving meditation, a chance to compete and a way to push myself to the edge physically. Running is the metaphor for my life and I miss having that means of expression.
Today was the most perfect running day! I shuffled to the mailbox dragging the boot behind and sighed. By the time I am "healed", it will be spring. Summer running is not my thing - especially fat which I have a good chance of being given the weeks ahead. All this Fall running will slip right past and leave me with another season of wondering what might have been.
I think for the first time in my life, I am actually sort of depressed. Maybe because for once in my life it seems like my running life could well come to a close. That is something that is very painful for me. If I have to give up running, I will have to give up such a big part of who I think I am.
I have been lucky enough in my life not to have had to mourn much. Mourning is useful. It gives our pain a voice, our loss a purpose. It allows us the opportunity to reflect and determine how we will move forward, adapt and become stronger in the broken places. Despite whatever becomes of my running life, I will never be the same runner I was before I got injured. I wasn't the same runner after the last injury. I will always be different. I will have to adapt. If I can't run, I will have to determine what's next.
But I am new to mourning so I am not sure how it works. Should I be going through all the traditional "grieving" steps? Or will I just sort of feel unmotivated and uninterested for awhile? I am trying to give whatever this is the proper air time. My usual way is to just fix it and move on. Make it better and be off to the next thing. This time I just don't have the energy to do that. I suppose the teacher appears when the student is ready. I'll try to be open to the possibilities.
Nothing is confirmed. There is no unfortunate prognosis. I keep wearing the boot like some sort of storm trooper religion and awaiting that miraculous day in physical therapy when I can be pronounced mechanically sufficient.
Looking on the bright side, the swelling is gone, I can flex my foot to the inside a little bit more than I could before. The pain is also largely gone though the stiffness is still there.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was running barefoot with no pain. I wonder if it's a prophetic dream or if it's just my psyche's way of expressing its longing. Life is about defining and refining. I suppose that's the lesson in this. For now, I am still a runner. An injured runner but a runner until all avenues are exhausted.
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