Ups and Downs

I was scanning through old posts today, thinking about how much I miss how much I miss having time to write.  I found a link to a post from Father's Day Weekend 2011. This post was about the first road race that I ever ran. I was determined NOT to be a runner. I simply started running because a friend was trying a Walk-to-Run class at our local YMCA. I wanted to hang out with her and chat. I knew I needed to exercise so this was the best of both worlds.

Here we are 2 years later (almost) and I am till running. The friend I started with is now living somewhere else, and I have a new running buddy from my neighborhood. We've run a couple of 5K races, and a 10K. We even trained together for a half-marathon. I finally had to admit that I am a runner. That made what happened in February so much harder to take.

I was on a training run with my running partner on February 2.  We were approaching a busy intersection so I slowed to a walk to look for on-coming traffic. Unfortunately I forgot to watch where I was putting my feet. Gravity took over. My running partner did at least say that I went down gracefully.

That was the start of a 7-week saga of pain and physical therapy. I banged up my knee but kept running. Not the brightest idea, but I was in the middle of training for my first half-marathon. I wanted so desperately to be okay. All I managed to do was make things worse.

I finally couldn't handle the pain and went to the doctor. She sent me to PT. My therapist tried to be encouraging. We had 2 weeks to get me in shape before the big race! I worked, and she worked, and I finally got the go ahead to try running again. I got my girls to go out with me, thinking that we'd run a mile or so together. I barely made it 500 feet. The half-marathon was out.

In a way it was a relief. I finally knew that I had to slow down, take my rehab more seriously, and give myself some time to heal. I chose to support my running partner and her husband while they ran the half-marathon instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. It was such a great feeling to watch them both cross the finish line.

That was March 9. I redoubled my efforts in physical therapy. Last week I got the go ahead to run again. We went for a controlled environment and a treadmill, and I made it 0.4 miles. I know the recover has a long way to go, but there is a light at the end of this saga.

I will run long distances again. I will race again, and I will run a half-marathon just to say that I did it!