Healing Powers

It's hard to believe that six months ago I almost didn't make it to the Boston Marathon finish line. Not because I've had glorious races since that limp, hobble, shuffle kicked in at 10K when it became too much to try to run. Not because I already finished another marathon, another one that I probably wasn't supposed to start in the first place. And not because I can walk normally, practice yoga on two feet instead of my knees that saw more action May through July, swim without dragging my feet behind, and spin sitting down the entire class.

Operating at near normalcy, minus the lack of speed and endurance when running and cycling, I almost forgot about my injury. That might be stretching it a little--or a lot--since I'm reminded nearly every day that I did have a tibia stress fracture, I still find myself using it as an excuse when I sit on the bike or have a slow run, and friends ask me about my leg at least once a week (which, don't get me wrong, I appreciate). From a mental standpoint, I'd like to think that I forgot. Because I pushed the constant nagging, the "woe is me" sadness, the depression that hit when exercise came to a near stand-still, and whatever other emotion that seemed to envelop every email, conversation and work project into a secret dungeon in my brain where I locked the door, tossed the key and couldn't return.

There's No Stopping a Runner

Source

She didn't win Sunday's Bank of America Chicago Marathon. She didn't finish in the top 10 or qualify for the U.S. Olympic Trials. She didn't qualify for the Boston Marathon, she didn't break four hours and she didn't run the race with a visual impairment. But finisher Amber Miller is generating more post-marathon talk than the winners. She didn't just run the marathon, she ran it at nearly 39 weeks pregnant--and then delivered a baby girl, June, later in the evening.

I know, I know. Let your jaw drop. Blink twice and re-read. Furrow your brow. I did.

Your eyes aren't deceiving you, you're reading correctly. Chances are you've probably heard this story at least once already, since it seems to have started locally and then spread like wildfire from New York to Los Angeles. And it spread through some out-of-the-ordinary circles, too--the link was shared by my running friends and by my mommy friends. I should rephrase that: friends who are mommies.

Talk about two sides divided. The runners: amazed. The mommies: Is this mommy runner nuts? Do I not "get" runners?

My answer to the mommies: Miller's not that nuts, and maybe you don't understand how hard runners will push to reach the finish line of a race. I completely understand that there could be health implications and risks involved in running especially when you're that pregnant. I completely understand not getting the mommy angle because I've never held my own child in my arms. And I've only heard how painful running while pregnant can be--and why friends have pressed the pause button on running until after the baby arrives.

What I Miss About Running

Another weekend, another set of races I can’t run. I’m really beginning to sound like a broken record, I realize, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being injured and stuck on the sidelines, it’s that I really miss running. I appreciate the sport far more now than I did before when I could head out for a run whenever I wanted. I know it. Heck, I complain and whine—all the time—about the fact that I’m not able to go out and do my usual summertime damage on the Lakefront Path.

But rather than wallow in self-pity, the easy route that I’m pretty good at taking in anything not running-related, I make fitness lists. Goals to shoot for next time. What went wrong at this race. Days to squeeze in training sessions. Superfoods, with their oh-so-super-meals, that might give a boost. Why I’m frustrated. So in list-making tradition, I’m taking a stab at what I miss about running. Superficial or not, here it goes:

1. The sweating. Sounds weird, I know, but the 90-degree temperatures earlier in the week brought back this memory. Granted I couldn’t tolerate a midday run in that heat, but I love it when beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. To me, it’s the sign of a good workout—and getting out all the toxins. Not so nice in the winter but perfect for this time of year.
2. Its ease. You know how we always say that it’s easy to go for a run? I almost forgot how easy it is, especially in this weather, to throw on a tank and shorts, add my shoes, sunglasses and tunes and head out the door. The hardest thing is finding a spot to store my keys. Not biking. I packed a duffel bag full of stuff I could potentially need when I went to the Udder Century last weekend.
3. The ability to eat almost anything after a good, hard run. Some people eat to run, I run to eat. I’m sure those eating habits will catch up with me later—or rather I know so judging from this lack of running—but I feel less guilty about eating a burger or getting a concrete at Scooter’s after burning calories on a run.
4. The racing. Watching races is one thing, as is volunteering, but I’ve learned through spectating that I belong on the race course. What can I say, I like racing against the clock even though I haven’t been logging PRs lately. And hearing about others’ accomplishments have been making me sad because I can’t be out there doing the same, or try.
5. The day-after feeling. Who’s sore the day after a long run or hard effort? As much as it hurts to get out of bed, I’ll take that over a hangover.
6. The runner's body. Runners come in all shapes and sizes but I'm definitely noticing a not-so-welcome change to what I'm towing around these days. Sure, it's my own fault screwing up the diet and exercise that works toward weight loss--skipping another boring ride on the bike, feeding a food craving--but I didn't think it'd be this hard to tone my lower half without the run.
7. Running in the rain. I can't believe I'm writing this one because normally my only rainy runs happen when the rain starts to fall after I'm already outside or it's a race. But I miss the soft drizzle that cools my body enough without wrecking my shoes, the rain clouds forming overhead that tell me to run faster to outrun the storm, the harder rain that soaks my clothes but not my spirit (most of the time).

If you couldn’t run, what would you miss most?

Note: A version of this post originally appeared at FFCheer.