I’ve always considered myself an easy-going person. I roll with the punches fairly well…and while I am a worry-wart that worries a ton about change, I still let all the pieces land where they may.
A few weeks ago, I kinda, sorta fell. Oddly enough (or rather, not odd at all because it’s me) I didn’t fall while running. No, I’m only a danger to myself in my other daily activities…like rushing down the stairs. I knew that I landed fairly hard on my left leg, but it didn’t hurt all that bad so I didn’t feel like I did much damage. I switched to the elliptical for the next few days, just in case, and then continued on my training schedule for my long weekend run. I felt fine, the run went awesome. Hooray for everyone! Oh wait, just kidding…no hooray for me. I started to not feel so great with my inside shin/calf area. In fact, it started to get progressively worse…but not too bad, right? I was FINE! Fine enough to do the six mile run on Saturday as part of a relay team for a tri-event. Or at least that’s what I thought heading into the event. The event that turned into six miles of pretty gosh-darn awful. Fast forward to the next day, heading to urgent care because I was in so much pain (and the fact that people started to freak me out saying that I could have a stress-fracture.)
The urgent care doc (bless him) is a runner. He understood my worry and frustration. So when he came back in the room with my x-ray results, the first words out of his mouth were “Nothing is broken.” In the same breath he says “no running for two weeks” due to pulled muscle. He told me that to keep up with my training I could switch to a stationary bike or swimming for the duration of the two weeks. And while I was grateful for the alternatives, on the inside I was completely freaking out.
All of a sudden, I went from a fairly easy-going person to someone who was ticked, disappointed, worried, sad…freaked out and, well, ticked. My usual positive demeanor has been tainted with a touch of Debbie Downer influence. I don’t like it. And obviously, I don’t love being in pain. That really stinks.
The silver lining of all this is that it doesn’t appear to be anything major. Nothing is broken. The injury is kinda like a reverse shin-splint, in a way. I’ve been swimming twice and I don’t hate it. (I don’t love it, but hey.) I know that this is my body’s way of telling me to chill out and take a breather. But boy is it tough when you’re freaking out about marathon training…or lack thereof. I guess, if nothing else, this is helping me see how important this is to me. If I ever doubt why in the world I do this to myself, I need to remind myself how I feel right now when all my plans are put on hold. I need to remember what a big-freaking-baby I’m being right now. (For reals!)
I know I’ll snap out of the bad mood. But I guess that I hope I never snap out of understanding the love of the run.