Last Sunday was my first long training run of the year, a whopping 6 miles that left me feeling like death and wondering how I was ever going to add another 13 miles to it in order to get through GSC. More than anything, my hips felt like they were on fire, which is my surefire sign that it's time for new running shoes! I panted my way up the hill from the trail where my Mr. Happily Every After was waiting for me patiently (he ducked out at mile 2.5, the wuss) and emphatically demanded that we head to the local running store after a quick shower in order to purchase new shoes.
Thank God that I have been able to introduce him to running and that he actually likes it, because where most men would have not been thrilled with the idea of spending money on more shoes, Mr. Happily Ever After jumped on the bandwagon and decided he needed shoes of his own! He may not have been nearly as thrilled with the idea after he saw the final bill, but 2 gait analyses, 2 pairs of shoes, 1 pair of custom insoles, 1 package of running socks, and a magic stick to roll out my hips and IT band later, we were headed home. And despite the fact that my run was miserable and my hips were aching, for the first time in months I was EXCITED to go running again!
Let me tell you, those pretty new Brooks have been taunting me from their box all week, just begging me to take them out. My hips though, they had other plans. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get a run in until Thursday anyway, because my PhD night classes started back up this week and we had our food tasting with the caterer on Tuesday, so I figured that a few days rest should be plenty off for me to be good to go on Thursday. And then Wednesday night came about, and those darn hips had me (and unfortunately Mr. Happily Ever After) up every hour, making it impossible to sleep or get comfortable. I woke up feeling bad for myself, and writhing in self-pity. The self-doubt crept right back in- my body couldn't handle running anymore, I didn't want to run, I don't really like it anyway, I was never going to be ready for Disney in just 5 short weeks. You name the doubt, I probably thought it. But, because I had packed my gym bag the day before, I threw it in the car and headed off to work.
I iced that hip off and on all day, and limped around the school looking as pathetic as I could. I left with every intention of going home and laying on the couch all night- and then I saw my gym bag. And 40 minutes later, I found myself staring at the treadmill, just praying that I could get through a mile in my pretty new Brooks, so I could say that I at least did SOMETHING today. I popped my headphones into the jack attached to the TV, and went for it. My hip still hurt, but once I got started it didn't matter. I got sucked into the latest drama between Rachel and Ross, and watched Joey make a fool of himself, and almost 2 episodes of Friends later I had put in a 5 mile run and felt like I still had gas in the tank. I had SURVIVED.
Today at work we are celebrating the 12 year cancer-free anniversary of the other social worker, who has been my mentor and friend for the last 7 years. She's a fighter, but more than anything, today we celebrate that she's a survivor. It's a reminder to me that everyone has a fight that they are fighting, and we all stumble and feel like we're being trampled. Most of us are not battling cancer, but at this point in training I can guarantee most of us are battling injuries, or fatigue, or nerves about the race. I've realized that it doesn't matter how big or small the fight is, it's YOUR fight and it's important to you. I may not be battling a debilitating illness, but the fight to find time to train and the fight to stay pain free feels like a mountain some days. No matter what the fight is though, we're all surviving, one run and one day at a time.
Plus, you've never seen a Princess give up in the face of adversity, have you? I didn't think so.
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