I am [still] a runner
There are times when reality can creep up on you.
It was only a few minutes after I started, mindlessly snacking as I scroll through Twitter and Facebook, that I realize I have eaten the entire bag of [bad snack food]. It happens. We are warned about eating without first portioning off, or eating straight from the bag. This gives a new name to the phrase “bag lunch.” I guess that’s what I just had.
I’m feeling frustrated. I have not run longer than an hour in weeks. To keep myself moving, I have gone to yoga and I started up with a master’s swim class.
Where am I without my long runs?
It’s coming up to a month now. It’s been that long since I hurt my Achilles tendon. This is a frustrating injury, as well as being painful.
I was told to only walk/jog when it doesn’t hurt to walk. Then start to run when I can walk/jog without any pain: I’m there now and have been able to run for up to 50 min.
My running coach had a similar injury and understands how the body copes and heals. This involves both the physical healing as well as our mental ways of coping with change and injury.
I have not been able to go out and run for 2+ hours, nor have I been able to join my running buddies. This is a shift for me. When I looked forward to some social distraction and a good long run, I no longer have that.
When I left for my run the rain has stopped and the sun was slicing through clouds. I waited until after two soccer games, a dance class, and the mommy taxi runs were all done. I knew I needed to get out to run and this morning pause for activities timed well with the weather. (Or, as I referred to it today: the wetter).
I now feel like a runner when I am out running for 30 minutes. I am enjoying my slow, easy runs. I don’t have to run as fast as the person beside me, because I am running with myself. In these moments I am running for my own goals. I am a runner.
I used to call 20 km an easy weekend run. It makes me realize I can go back to that again. I will get there again. I know it’s possible with consistency and dedication. Going slow makes me look at what I’m doing. What am I worried about? What is my body doing? Where is my mind?
I miss the long run, but I am thankful to have this time as well. I can run shorter, because it means I can still run.
I am a runner.
This post is about a week out of date, but I still wanted to post it. For me, it’s about acknowledging where I am that makes me realize what progress is, and what it entails.