A Minute of Thanks

"And when you can run, keep going, and thank God for what you've got"

I used to run 13 miles at a time. Like it was easy no less. And O.K. I'm going to be the first to admit that I frequently took this for granted. There used to be a lot of days when I would stop in the middle of a run and look around, marveling at how awesome it was that I could comfortably run ten  miles away from my house and know that I could make it back. I felt so blessed and so lucky. Every run was an adventure and each time I was able to make it that much further.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that running for me used to be like swimming and biking is now. It used to be exciting and challenging. Don't get me wrong, I never stopped loving it. But I did defiantly start taking it for granted. Instead of how many miles can I run, it was how many miles must I run. It became a chore. It stopped being about the act of running, pure and simple. Instead it was about how many miles I could get in during a week, how many miles I had to run to equal the times that everyone expected me to run. Running was just training miles that I had to do to equal the end result-the times I was supposed to be hitting.

It's not that times and racing aren't important to me. They are. In fact, I think they're even a bit too important. But all those miles and all that running for all that racing was for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't for the love of running anymore. Instead it was for the winning of races, the expectations of other people. Running never used to be about what other people wanted for me. It was the only thing that I had all for myself, something that no one else in the world could understand. All of a sudden it was never enough, never good enough, never fast enough. So what happened to that gift?

My love and appreciation got lost somewhere along those 50 mile weeks when the focus was not on running, but on winning. It wasn't fun anymore because the fun doesn't come with the winning. When you win a race they don't reward you with a good time. They give you a trophy, or a t-shirt.

Now I'm not running 50 miles a week. I'm lucky if I get 5. Winning? no. Happy? yes. I used to get annoyed when I "only" had a 30 minute run. I figured that it was hardly worth it if I only got 4-5 miles in. I thought that to be "worth it" a run should be loooooong. 10 miles a day anyone?
.What I miss most about running didn't come from being injured and not able to run. Being injured is frustrating, I'm not saying otherwise. But I think that it was going to take being injured in order for me to realize that I need to re-vamp my running. I mean where is that girl who used to be a midfielder in soccer just so she could run more? Where is that tough little girl, the only girl in fact, on the cross country team in gradeschool just because she loved to run? Who wore her running shoes under her prom dress in high school?

What I miss is that freedom and that pure joy that stems from running across a green field and feeling fast. During track season I wondered a lot what it would take for me to get that love and joy back. Maybe a 15 mile run during the summer? Maybe running a really really good 10k?

As it turns out for the first time in my life running was not the answer. In fact the answer was not running. Nothing makes you appreciate the ability to run when you can't do it. Remember that girl who thought she was too good for measly 5 mile run? Enter the new Katie who 2 days ago got to go on a real life run for the first time in weeks. One minute run, one minute walk...alternating every minute for 20 minutes. a.k.a. 10 total minutes of running. And you know what? I was thrilled with each and every one of those 1 minute segments.

Yesterday I broke through again comfortably running 3 whole miles on the Alter G. Real-life running is just around the corner!

But now there's a new challenge in it for me. Instead of the usual running 60 miles/week, working on my core, yada yada yada, the challenge is to cherish every single minute that I get to run.  Every minute is a blessing, each mile a gift. Running isn't about me, but about something greater than me. The triumph of endurance, the discovery of strength, and the celebration of the God-given abilities each of us has.

So run faster, and give thanks every step of the way.

The Most Amazing of Days

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall." -Confucius


-The first journey of learning how to run again 

Today was not really a special day. Not by many people's standards of "special". But to me it was nothing short of the most amazing of days.
Nothing extraordinary or unusual happened. This is surprising considering the amount of extraordinary, usual and strange things which tend to happen to me on a regular basis.
I woke up at 7:00a.m. Just like millions of other Americans at 7 this morning I'm particularly unmotivated to drive the hour to work. And by drive I mean get held up in traffic. Have intense road rage. Speed the rest of the way to get there on time.
Slow Down Katie
I get to work and again nothing funny or unusual or exciting develops. I spend an hour cleaning. I spend some more time dusting the fake ficus tree. Finally I file all the reports on all of the patients we've had this past week. To everyone but me it seems like an ordinary day. But to me it's anything but that.

So. Now to the big part. I drive home and for the first time in 3 weeks I pull on my running shoes.

Easy. Easy does it. It's been so long and I barely remember how to do this. After 3 weeks of swimming my legs barely remember what it's like...
Slow down, Katie
It's super super hot out today. Like record hot. We're talking 100 degrees out people! I haven't run in 3 weeks. I'm not used to this. My body hurts. I'm sweating. I'm stiff. I'm scared.
Slow down, Katie
I wait for the pain. Gasping every time I step wrong with my knee. Waiting on eggshells for my PF pain to come back. 5 minutes in it hasn't hurt. 10 minutes in it hasn't hurt. Has it? Everything else is hurting, like my body doesn't know what's going on anymore. My stride is off. It's hard to find it after all these weeks. Maybe I've forgotten how to run?
Slow down, Katie. Deep breaths
I get back to where I parked my car after 2 miles or so. I've had enough. I head over to a soccer field. I pull of my shoes. I pull off my socks. I run barefoot around the field for the last few minutes. There is no pain. There is no pressure, no racing, no track, no fans, no competition. There is only a girl and her love of running, there is only me and a field of grass. There is only running and freedom.
Run faster, Katie.