Born to Run

Last week I injured my back…big time.  I’m not really sure what happened, except that one day I was fine, the next day I woke up and it hurt a little, and the next day I could barely walk.  Apparently it has to do with my sacroiliac joint being hypo-mobile…or something.  I hobbled into work in tears and immediately made an appointment to see a chiropractor, who then put me on a program for fixing it.  Now I can walk, sort of, but can’t do much else.  It’s turned into quite a challenge working with children who enjoy throwing themselves floppy noodle-style on the floor.  My main concern, though, is getting healthy in time for my half marathon a week from Sunday, and our subsequent vacation to Montreal and Quebec City.  It’s not looking too good on the racing front, though.

Looking back at the months I’ve been training, I thought of how many times I woke up in the morning and thought, “I don’t feel like running today.  I’m just not into it.”  I usually forced myself to go anyway, but sometimes I’d let myself drift back to sleep.  Of course, now that I can’t run, it’s the only thing I can think about.  It’s been 5 days since my last run, and over that period of time I was scheduled to cover 33 miles.  That’s 33 miles of catching up on my favorite podcasts and audiobooks, 33 miles of people-watching commuters and park-goers, 33 miles of Murray being so elated he’s running with me that he grabs the leash in his mouth and yanks it around mid-run.  That’s 5 days of being so happy that I decided to lace up my shoes, even though it was dark and early and I was tired.  That’s 5 special post-run pumpkin pie flavored oatmeal and quinoa bowls (which, frankly, might have been my biggest motivation to run to begin with).  I wish I could go back to all the times I thought I wasn’t into running that day and remind myself why I wanted to become a runner.  It’s my Garmin watch exclaiming “New Record!” afterward, the feeling that I accomplished something before many people got out of bed that morning, that I’ll stay productive throughout the day, and the feeling of camaraderie with other runners and walkers that I pass.

The feeling of camaraderie will stay regardless of whether I’m able to race, of course.  It’s Daphne’s first big race and if I can’t run, I’ll be on the side of the road cheering her on.  And while I might shed a few tears wishing I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines, I’ll also remind myself to be thankful.  I’m thankful that I’ll still be able to run again; for my friends in the medical field who took time out of their day to advise and care for me; for everyone who listened to me whine about what is, in the end, a minor setback; for the chance to gain perspective as a spectator and giver of encouragement.  This is neither the last nor the most important race, and right now is just my time to play a different role.


One thought on “Born to Run

  1. I am as proud of you as if you had won your race. Thank you for putting yourself out there, being honest about your feelings, and being there for Daphne! You have gained insight as valuable as a “new record!” Love you!

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