My 10 Month Anniversary

In acknowledgment of my 10-months-of-not-running-anniversary this week I’ll be seeing my sports med. doc for a re-evaluation of the Achilles tendon injury that took me out of a race in Antarctica last year, and, hauling 60 lb loads of water up a remote trail. Since I’m not someone who connects with gratuitous optimism, and I downright cringe when I hear intelligent folks say things like, “Everything will be just fine,” or, “It could be much worse,” I’m certain I’ll swallow what will be at the doc’s. Being a definitive realist I’m guessing that its not ready yet. But the big plans I have for when it is ready have me playing all those funny little games of the walking wounded.

I have been testing the waters with a bit of jogging here and there, hiking, and backpacking (don’t tell my doc I climbed a mountain). Though I am pragmatic in addressing injuries, training and racing, I am an athlete in love with trails. Doesn’t any and all sort of love make even the most resolute athlete tip the practicality scales now and then?

Injured athletes convince themselves they are healed when they are not. On what feels like a “good” day, they will do a little impromptu trot across the parking lot to their car, overstretch or over-strengthen the area to see if it will hold up to the stress (or because they are pissed off at the injury), and of course, they do the daily body check of the injured part immediately upon waking. We wake up and our subconscious mind goes immediately to the injured spot (unless something else is hurting). We move it around a bit and convince ourselves it feels different. Today, it feels better, doesn’t it? Then we ultimately get up, don our cycling clothes and head out for another non-running activity. Though optimistic (or delusional), 10 months later we are still leaving our bed each morning, dissatisfied.

This week in honor of my anniversary and my love for trails (an oxymoron) I have been hauling 60 lb loads of water up onto a remote aid station for the Dirt Inspires Women’s Trail Half Marathon. I initiated this race 10 months ago while declaring – “If I can’t run on trails I want to support other women in running on trails!” With lots of work and 300 registered runners later we’re on for Aug. 30^th. I would not wish my injury on anyone but since this super cool race is a result of my demise there will be a celebration in order on the 30^th—for the runners, especially the new trail racers. That feels good.

What also feels reat is hauling 60 lb loads of water up a tough trail (after waking up dissatisfied). I’m pretty certain I was a pack mule in a past life or I am heading in that direction. Hard work feels nurturing to this sturdy body. Perhaps “everything will be ok,” or, “it could be a lot worse,” but right now hard work will do the trick until I can lighten the load and move a bit faster.

See you on race day!

Terri