Last Wednesday I told you I would take time to get better - redirect my energies. That good pigheadedness lasted almost 3 days - and then was replaced by original stupidity again. On Saturday, at the first twinge of feeling almost normal, I threw on the shoes and went for a run. Not a second thought, not a little voice, just headed for the trail. 4 lovely miles! It was a gorgeous day and enjoyed every stinking step of that run.
I paid for my fall of the wagon on Sunday and Monday. clomp, clomp, stomp, stomp, pout, pout....that is the sound of me making the rounds through my chiropractor and family doctor to put me back together on Monday. Granted, the back is nowhere near as bad as it was a few weeks ago (this is a lame excuse), I can actually sit through my meetings (this is rational stupidity), I hunkered down to my stretching/strengthening plan for 3 whole days (whatever!), so I deserved that run (this is an addicts mindset).
So I finally admit it. I am addicted to running. Smokers get patches, gum, shots, hypnosis, support groups, and classes to quit - what do we rehibilitating runners get, nada. zilch. It is so unfair. We just need to grit our teeth and muster through it. (Blame sweetly wild for planting my dislike for the advantages of being a smoker.)
And now, on to Plan D. I woke up with a new grand plan. I need to direct my running energy into something besides just stretching and strengthening. Heck, since I can almost touch my toes again, what else is there? So, I am going to become a walker...again...for a little while. If I walk or run 2-3 miles, in the end, I cover the miles and get some exercise, so what's the difference, right? (Come on, nod reassuringly with me.) I used to be a walker. I walked myself into my insanely small wedding dress. I walked myself through the 9 month of both pregnancies. I can walk. I don't like it and I will complain. But I can do it. It's just takes soooo long. It does seem like a better option than the ellipticals (been there, done that recovering from stress fractures from the pregnancy I weighed slightly less than a momma elephant) and stationary bike butt.
Waaahhhh....I don't want to be a walker - not that there is anything wrong with it. I have great respect for walkers. They beat me all the time at races. As a proud but slow runner, I have been "walked down" by many a walker. It still catches me by a surprise. I am laboring along, running in a race and a walker pulls along side me. It's like a bad cartoon moment right out of coyote and road runner.
For my new plan D, I will have to dig down deep and find some discipline. Taking my self to a trail with running shoes and NOT running is kinda like taking me to a bakery just so I can smell the cookies baking. Yeah, it doesn't always go as planned. But, I am a big girl. I can make good choices. Ok, I should make good choices.
And if I don't, Marcy has graciously offered me a spot on the bench for a while. And while I would love to hang out and shoot the crap with her (imagine all I could learn!), my preference would to be out running. Maybe next week (ok, probably month)...
Photo by scribbett