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.

Hope and Hip Exercises

"Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about"

Alright. I'm back.

Before anything, I'd like to start off by thanking all of the people who encouraged me not to give up on myself. I've gotten a lot of very wise advice from from very wise people in the past few days. I've also come to realize what a wonderful group of people I've surrounded myself with. I can't tell you how much it meant to me that ya'll didn't let me sit here and wallow in self-pity.

That said, I fully realized this morning that I needed to snap out of it. If I'm ever going to kick these injuries and get myself back to running I can't just sit around feeling sorry for myself. So I've been doing my best to be proactive. {This means thousands of sets of hip exercises and constant stretching}

 On Tuesday, after I wrote my last post I realized that I needed to do SOMETHING. So I stopped in to see a physical therapist on my way home from work.

I've known Kurt since I was 15 years old. In 2005 his sport and spine clinic was brand-spankin new and I was a high school sophmore with a fractured leg. He brought me through that, through tendonitis, and everything else along the way. So why didn't I go to him immediatly? Stubborn independance I suppose. Luckily he remembered me and we set up an appointment to see if somehow he would be able to put the fractured pieces of me back together again.

So this morning at 4:40A.M. fueled by 5 hours of sleep and 2 big cups of coffee, I jumped on my bike and rode across town to the clinic.

After an hour we set up 3 appointments for next week and I rode off with even more exercises that I'm supposed to do a few times a day. However, for the first time in a long, long while I started to feel some sort of hope after talking to him. Don't get me wrong. My IT band is apparently more solid than a steel rod. My knee does still hurt. My biomechanics are messed up. But with some hard-core physical therapy it looks like this is something that I will eventually be able to move past.

I went for a 16 mile ride afterwards before I had to leave for work, looked up at the sky and saw the sun peaking out. A sign, perhaps, that my silver lining is out there somewhere, and somehow good will come of this. It will make me a stroger runner but a stronger person as well. It taught me patience and to listen to my body when it's crying out in pain. This injury caused me to buy a bike....maybe it's facilitating my journey to become a professional triathlete.{haha}

In all seriousness however, I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that I'm not going to give up on running, or myself. As humans, we don't really have much if we don't have hope and faith. Losing hope, I learned, means losing everything. Without hope we have no chance.

So here's to the hope that I will be able to run again in time for the season. To hope that doing about a gazillion hip exercises every day will heal my knee. Hope that I continue to run, not just now, but for the rest of my life. Hope that I never give up on myself again.