Like most responsible bloggers – not that I claim to be one of them, mind you – I try to have a list of topics I’d like to cover at least two weeks out. I found it’s easier than letting my dollar machine brain spin out of control and sadly, end up with squat. More often than not though, as I start writing in earnest about the day’s chosen subject, the tornadic activity kicks into overdrive and the inevitable brain vomit follows, resulting in a side trip to whatthehellisshetalkingaboutand how thehelldidshegetthere-itis. Bear with me. There actually IS a point I’m trying to make.
As I laid on the
torture massage table this afternoon, staring at the ceiling and cursing under my breath, (not so much), my synapses started firing at full force as I wondered how, after two FREAKIN’ years, I was STILL dealing with IT issues. Why, just when I thought I finally had this cursed pain in my ass knees licked, it showed up yet ONCE AGAIN. And here I am, in the chiro’s office ONCE AGAIN. Getting my muscles, tendons, ligaments, and whatever the heck else is in there, stretched, mushed, and beaten into submission. ONCE AGAIN. Are you sensing a pattern here?
Seeing as the only way I can keep from hurling my shoes at my massage therapist’s head is to breathe deeply, I was happy to find that it also helped quiet the noise in my head that kept screaming, “IS ALL OF THIS WORTH IT? DON’T YOU WANT TO JUST THROW IN THE TOWEL, PERMANENTLY ATTACH YOUR BUTT TO THE COUCH, AND EAT CUPCAKES? ALL DAMN DAY???” Yeah, that’s really what my head says to me. Doesn’t everyone’s?
Thankfully – once I got over the whole cupcake fantasy thing – I was able to calm down and put things back in my favorite place. Yeppers! Black Dog is back on the PERSPECTIVE train!
I COULD actually permanently affix my dupa to the couch and eat cupcakes all day while watching a Criminal Minds marathon, but that would only result in larger sized sweatpants, frosting mushed into the couch, and uncontrolled drooling over Shemar Moore’s abs. While that in itself wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, it wouldn’t exactly help the original problem of getting these miles run with a tolerable amount of pain. And that track always leads me back to the same place. A little land I call TRUST THE PROCESSville. Land. WHATEVER.
As runners, we all end up there at some point. A pain or ache that simply refuses to go away and makes our running life a living hell. We stretch, foam roll, grunt, groan, and occasionally scream our way through every possible mode of therapy we can think of. We wonder if it’s all worth it. And then we see this.
And suddenly, all our aches and pains, pulled muscles, sore feet, lost nails, and yes, even our ITBS, suddenly doesn’t seem to matter so much. Our complaining becomes tempered, our tears dry up quicker, and we look at things just a little bit differently. We’re thankful we have our eyes to see, our lungs to breathe, and our legs to run. That long, slow run we’ve been dreading all week doesn’t seem quite so scary come Saturday morning. And instead of quietly sneaking out before dawn to get our miles in before work, we take a moment and kiss our significant other on the forehead, even if it wakes them up. Because we realize that life is a precious gift. And one that should never be taken for granted.
So if you’re battling a chronic injury like me, and feel like giving up, DON’T. You WILL beat back the demons that seem to thwart your attempts at victory. You WILL be able to look at yourself in the mirror and be proud of what you see. And you WILL emerge victorious on the other side. And all the anger, tears, and pain will have been worth it. So go ahead and wrap your head around THAT.
Enjoy the ride.
Ever get so down in the dumps about an injury that you thought your running days were over? Were you able to overcome it? Who or what inspires you or helps you keep things in perspective?