… but not as we know it.
My first post-injury run this morning. Hmm…
I’m sure I’m not alone in my paranoia that my fitness will evaporate with every day I don’t run. In the dark and grizzly recesses of my imagination I’m sliding down, down, down until I’m a wheezy amorphous creature; like The Blob with asthma. (see 5 mins into this clip)
Now of course I know this is illogical. I’m doing weight training to strengthen the muscles that let me down last time, but it’s not running and that’s what I exercise for – running. Weight training is empowering but there’s no rush. No fresh air. No nature.
So, now you can see how my headspace lies (bloody bonkers, yes, thank you) as I set off past the church (quick prayer and holy ground can’t hurt, can it).
Immediately I get pulling, yanking pains flicking round my hip and glutes, but I keep at it and the frequency of said pain drops and then goes off. Mindful of not pushing my luck I have my watch on, not my garmin, I do not want to know how slow I am.
But slowly I jog round for 30 minutes without feeling out of breath. I feel strong. My head is up and the pain isn’t ridiculous. I begin to feel a dull ache round my knee and inside my hip, but it’s not making me limp.
And all those things I miss happen; I start running through work issues and making decisions about how to deal with them, I say ‘hello’ to strangers walking dogs, I splash through puddles, I smell the summer air. I get a face full of soggy ivy miss-ducking back over the bridge.
After 30 minutes I jog-walk the last half mile home and I’m super cheery. I’ve run. I can still run. My body is still strong (probably a bit stronger actually, thanks to the weight training).
I am not back at the beginning. I am further along on the running journey.
As NBA basketball player A C Green said: ‘Tough times don’t last, but tough people do.’