Sit Down. Stand Up. (Back & Forth)
After weeks of back and forth, it was time to face the undeniable truth: I needed to take a running sabbatical. No! Yes.
For over two months, I’d been not-so-gracefully battling plantar fasciitis and achilles tendinitis in my right foot/ankle. It never became terribly painful, but for too long it was a nuisance. The pain and discomfort came and went. I sometimes woke up with it, and it dissipated by late morning. Other days, I ran on it and it was fine both during and after the run. But some runs, no matter how short, really irritated it. I wrapped, iced (ice, baby), sometimes soaked with epsom salt and stretched all the time. Nah, my foot was not having it.
The short story? It wasn’t getting any worse, but it definitely wasn’t getting better.
After careful consideration (and a recommendation from a podiatrist), I hung up my bright running shoes for a while. This decision was incredibly difficult to make. I’d already lost momentum on my weekly and annual mileage goals (and I probably won’t catch up at this rate). But I had to remind myself… it’s not about the mileage. It’s never been about the mileage! Or at least it didn’t used to be. I ran because it was an escape, because it gave me a chance to decompress. Running is freedom; that’s what I immediately associate it with. I was grateful just to be out with the wind rushing past me. I simply loved running. It’s not supposed to be about numbers.
But somewhere along the way, it became entirely about stats and the constant need to go, go, go. I didn’t care what it took: I was going to run 18+ miles a week and I’d run 900 miles in 2017 (1,000 if I pushed it). I became subconsciously obsessed with my Garmin, staring at it during my runs. Longer, faster, harder. But now? It’s not happening. And it should have never happened: not that way.
My foot needed time to heal. I’ve been wearing only flat shoes with orthotics, and I’m using my lovely (and hopefully, magical) Strassburg Sock. For almost a month, I haven’t run. At all. Gosh; I’m sick to my stomach just thinking about it. A month without hitting the pavement! I don’t know how I’ve managed. Walking was doable, as was spinning. But… honestly, I might as well be sitting. I miss running terribly and I feel like I’ve been incredibly grumpy because of it (apologies).
But walking and spinning and stretching has helped me realize how important it is to cross-train. Core work is important, and I need to give my legs a rest every once in a while. Yes, running is awesome, but running alone is probably not ideal. I've recently discovered some absolutely awesome coaches and runners online (like Kyle Kranz), who share their experiences, their tips, their strategies, their routines, and advice. I'm so grateful for their guidance!
This weekend, I begin with baby steps, literally one mile at a time. And even though my Garmin will be with me, I’ll ignore it. Numbers don’t matter. I just wrote about that at the end of 2016, didn’t I? How things change so fast; how fickle we are.
Quality, not quantity. A run, no matter how short, can be a great run.
On the flipside, not running made me focus on my music more. And boy, do I have news to share...
For over two months, I’d been not-so-gracefully battling plantar fasciitis and achilles tendinitis in my right foot/ankle. It never became terribly painful, but for too long it was a nuisance. The pain and discomfort came and went. I sometimes woke up with it, and it dissipated by late morning. Other days, I ran on it and it was fine both during and after the run. But some runs, no matter how short, really irritated it. I wrapped, iced (ice, baby), sometimes soaked with epsom salt and stretched all the time. Nah, my foot was not having it.
 |
| Insane snow running, before the dreaded PF. |
After careful consideration (and a recommendation from a podiatrist), I hung up my bright running shoes for a while. This decision was incredibly difficult to make. I’d already lost momentum on my weekly and annual mileage goals (and I probably won’t catch up at this rate). But I had to remind myself… it’s not about the mileage. It’s never been about the mileage! Or at least it didn’t used to be. I ran because it was an escape, because it gave me a chance to decompress. Running is freedom; that’s what I immediately associate it with. I was grateful just to be out with the wind rushing past me. I simply loved running. It’s not supposed to be about numbers.
But somewhere along the way, it became entirely about stats and the constant need to go, go, go. I didn’t care what it took: I was going to run 18+ miles a week and I’d run 900 miles in 2017 (1,000 if I pushed it). I became subconsciously obsessed with my Garmin, staring at it during my runs. Longer, faster, harder. But now? It’s not happening. And it should have never happened: not that way.
My foot needed time to heal. I’ve been wearing only flat shoes with orthotics, and I’m using my lovely (and hopefully, magical) Strassburg Sock. For almost a month, I haven’t run. At all. Gosh; I’m sick to my stomach just thinking about it. A month without hitting the pavement! I don’t know how I’ve managed. Walking was doable, as was spinning. But… honestly, I might as well be sitting. I miss running terribly and I feel like I’ve been incredibly grumpy because of it (apologies).
But walking and spinning and stretching has helped me realize how important it is to cross-train. Core work is important, and I need to give my legs a rest every once in a while. Yes, running is awesome, but running alone is probably not ideal. I've recently discovered some absolutely awesome coaches and runners online (like Kyle Kranz), who share their experiences, their tips, their strategies, their routines, and advice. I'm so grateful for their guidance!
This weekend, I begin with baby steps, literally one mile at a time. And even though my Garmin will be with me, I’ll ignore it. Numbers don’t matter. I just wrote about that at the end of 2016, didn’t I? How things change so fast; how fickle we are.
Quality, not quantity. A run, no matter how short, can be a great run.
 |
| My precious. |
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