My day began in a gym in West Philly listening to basketballs hit the court and fall through the net so rhythmically it stopped short of choreographed. I realized, then, that I missed the way a gym felt on a cold Saturday morning, much the same way I missed the teams that trudge there to practice and the unspoken "we're in this together."
Three hours later I was on my way to my first race post-injury. Deep in thought. Nauseas. Cursing the very idea of running up and down the hills of the main line for three point one miles.
My parents were coming; Cousins were everywhere; "Serious" runners pranced about; and I was puking in an elementary school bathroom with miniature toilets and sinks close enough to the ground for your average 7 year old to reach.
Minutes before the race started, I broke away from all of the spandex, mittens and ear-warmers and took a jog a few blocks off the race course. This is when I calmed down. When it came down to putting left in front of right and simply breathing the cold air in and pushing it back out again, the people faded, the guy playing the harmonica at the start line got amped up a bit and the cold sky fell all around me. This was just me and my sport again.
Waving to my parents as I began took me back to my high school cross country meets and suddenly the 7:10 mile I threw down to begin this 5k felt familiar and welcoming. I just had to trust myself up and down the hills; trust myself to fight; trust myself to turn corners, fix my eyes on a goal and meet it.
Mile 2 was considerably slower but with every hill that turned up, I mentally thanked every single person that, over the last 4 months, pushed cross training, lifting and physical therapy even when my attitude sucked and my will just wasn't there. Because of you, even though Mile 2 was slower, it was not unbearable and far from impossible. Because of you, I am stronger.
Mile 3: I owned you, slapped my dad's hand as I turned a corner, cheered on a member of a cross country team who had fallen behind his group, commented on a team wearing tutus (I secretly covet this idea every time I see it and swear I'm going to find 4 people who are willing for my next race) and relaxed enough in my own self to actually enjoy the race.
Mile .1: I thought about the phone call I got from my doctor on October 5th. Clicking the off button on my cell phone. Walking blindly out of my office. Stunned. Wondering how long it would be before I healed; if I would heal; how I would heal and when I would run again. When I crossed the finish line 37 seconds off my personal best, I realized that while it may be a long road back to where I was, I'm enjoying the scenery.
No comments:
Post a Comment