Wednesday, November 6, 2013

when I'm not running, I'm complaining about it: words from the injured

There's only one thing that sucks more than running.  And that is not running.

In addition to the other annoying crap that runners do, we also like to confuse people with inconsistent complaints.  If you were ready to cue the violins after hearing a runner complain about a long run, just wait until you hear a runner who can't do her long run.  Let's just say you better get the whole orchestra ready.

And I've got a symphony going on over here in Chicago.

Thankfully and miraculously, before my last marathon I had never had an actual injury.  A tight calf here, a missing toenail there, a bulging bursa sac in my elbow (I wish that was a joke)... but never anything that kept me from running for more than a day or two.

My dad will tell you it was good genes.  My mom will tell you it was the drinking water.  I just thanked the running gods and left it at that.

So when I felt my hamstring snap at mile 26 of the Grand Rapids Marathon, I freaked out a little.  I held it together long enough to hobble Quasimodo-style the last 0.2 miles but once I crossed the line, I lost it.  I started crying harder than when Billy Cundiff broke my heart in the 2012 AFC Championships.  (Don't look, Dad!)

A large part of me was crying because I knew that I had done something bad and was scared.  (The other part was just too hopped up on endorphins to prepare an appropriate emotional response.)

Now, it has been less than 3 weeks of no running and I'm already losing it.  I joke about being an addict but I'm only half kidding.  Had it not been for my sponsor (Derrick) in my personal Runners Anonymous program, I would have fallen off the wagon the second I could walk without that awkward hip thrust.

I'm in a dark place.  It's weird and irrational and just reading this to myself makes me feel like a nut job... but it is what it is.

I've been cycling, elliptical-ing, and doing upper body weights, but it's sort of like eating fat-free ice cream: it tastes like the real stuff just enough to remind you that you really want that fat.

Where am I going with all of this?  I guess no where besides maybe asking if anyone's got a cello they want to donate to my pity orchestra over here because it's in full swing.  Or maybe I'm hoping someone will slap me back into reality and remind me that there's hungry kids in China... or whatever you're supposed to say after a reality slap.

Really, I just want to run... simple as that.

But, you know what they say: it could always be worse.  I could still dress like this:

Happy Hump Day!  I hope your hamstrings stay healthy, your ice cream stays fattening, and your leggings stay away from your shorts.

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