This isn’t a story about fitness. Or working out. Or training. It’s about coping, identity, self-awareness.
Last year ended on a gradual downward trajectory after a few personals met. Couple of severely rolled ankles, sprained thumb, two infected eyes, sprained back, gash on a wrist, gaping hole in the bottom of one foot that seems to get worse and worse every winter.Toss in a couple trips to the hospital, an MRI, a few trips to PT, and the DC and hardly an event free week was to be had. Still can’t figure out how all those starting lines were managed.
I never really thought of myself as an angry man; emotional, passionate, but not angry.
This stuff resulted in something that probably resembles anger. Sure enough led to an awful lot of frustration. Plus some pain. Thing is, it gets better. It heals. This next one isn’t healing so much. I think something’s torn–severely.
My bouncing around the country the last couple of years has resulted in a dramatic shift in group vs. solo efforts. Survivable through a steady diet of ipods and NPR. The thing is; quantity isn’t making up for lost quality. I caved and picked up a watch–a real one. Haven’t told AL; wanted to figure out how to run it, figure out if I’d keep it first before the unveiling. Jumped in both feet right away w/back-to-back slogs through the trails after 3 weeks of not running a step. Probably not the best decision I’d made in the new year. No matter, damage was done. I had two days of data to review which brought a rush I hadn’t felt in weeks.
Day two a few twinges started in the last couple of miles. By the time I headed down the hill home I knew something was off. Next day I almost couldn’t walk, took it off. Worse the next day. New data toy or not; I’ve got a torn ligament and a dr’s appointment on the horizon. Grr (that’s a little grr for an animal in distress)
AniMal