All summer, I ran three time a week, more or less, and normally even looked forward to it after work (when it wasn't too late and I wasn't too tired, those days I dreaded it!). I wasn't running far, and for the most part I ran the exact same trail every day (don't tell the serial killer, I know they look for these patterns!) I felt like I was making progress and everyday I went a little bit faster and it was a little bit easier.
Little did I know, my running path was about to make a sharp turn (this is where a Dateline would cut to commercial, fyi)
I had decided that to help me sleep the night before the wedding, I would go for my run. Despite our best plans, we were running a bit behind schedule that day, but I was out the door and running by 7:15. I headed to the trail with the dog, leaving Gavin and his parents at home. I was running along the trail when suddenly I crashed, hard. I didn't know it until almost a week later, but some animal had burrowed under the trail, so while there wasn't a visible hole, when I stepped on the weak spot it caved under my foot sending me sprawling. I crawled up and stumbled home sobbing. Luckily, Gavin's dad was still there and took a look at my ankle which was fortunately was only rolled and not broken or sprained. I had road rash up my leg and on my hands. Besides becoming a memorable part of our wedding story, ( I was able to walk/dance fine and only had minor discomfort from the road rash) the fall had a tremendous impact on my running.
|Band-Aids, the new garter.|
Suddenly, I could no longer run confidently and found myself staring at the ground directly in front of me all the time. I ran a few times on our honeymoon, but even then, along the beautiful Jamaican beach, found it quite challenging to convince myself to go.
When I started running, I didn't buy shoes. I decided that if I kept it up though the summer, then I could buy shoes as a reward. I had solidly earned the shoes and eventually buying them was probably one of the things that convinced me to not give up.
Currently, I'm still running. My goal is 6 miles a week, but I'm struggling to make it with the bumps life is throwing me. I've decided to take a much more patient approach with myself and be proud of what I can do, and where I improve instead of negative and harsh.
Regardless, I'm still signed up for my first 5k on Thanksgiving and I'm going to do my best. Given the last few weeks, there is at least some possibility that the mental picture I have of being the last person across the finish line (complete with 90 year old women with walkers passing me at the last moment) will come true, but I will do my best and I will be proud of myself. And I will hopefully not fall.