From 2007 to April 2016 I ran 4 half marathons, 5 mud runs and more 5 and 10Ks than I can remember. I have a box full of medals, a fistful of bibs and more scar tissue than is probably reasonable. I'd drag myself out of bed at 530 AM after sleeping in my running clothes. Rise and shine and run. Put in 2 miles and then head out after work to put in 3-4 more. Weekends I'd run 4-6, depending on what I was training for more. I wish I could say I remembered each one. The special ones, NIKE and Giants, and Bay to Breakers I do. The rest are a mishmash of asphalt and portopotties and teenagers holding cups. In the midst of this I won a belt buckle showing my horse. I have another box of ribbons. My life was a schedule. Run MWS ride TTHSS. Friday rest day (I suck at rest day). Riding was my safe place, running my meditation. They anchored me to the earth.
In all my years of running I never learned to be a good runner. 3 trips through Team in Training no one ever pulled me aside and said you lock up your left side to keep that shoulder in place thats why your IT band hurts. 5 trips through PT for IT bands, dislocated cuboids, locked up SI joints, malrotated hips. What I learned was to endure. That even when your body was screaming you moved on. In the midst of it I'd find myself sitting on my horse unable to do anything but sit on her and rope the dummy because my hip flexors screamed. I'd fall asleep on the couch at 7pm. Or wake up in the middle of the night with everything from my hips to my ankles screaming with nothing that gave any kind of relief. And then she got cancer. My safe place my favorite thing became the thing that I would lose. For years I had wanted to run the Oz race and for the first time during training I would find myself standing in the middle of the hill unable to find anything to make me keep going up even at a walk. And not wanting to go to the real world back at the car so I'd just stand there.
I hated everything. The structure the grind and when I lost her I quit. I let go of the anchors that held me. I quit caring. I quit running.
Or maybe I started...Running kept me grounded because of the self talk and the pushing it was the one break in my head and suddenly there was no break and there was no safe. It was just me and I ran from it.
My friends called it my step up year. New horse, applied to school. They talked about the phoenix and how she rises from the ashes. Put I couldn't get out of the ashes. I just sat there in the darkness.
And so I entered 2017 more out of shape more unme than I'd ever felt. My professional life was a nightmare of drama, my academic future was yet unknown and I felt adrift, uncomfortable and alone. Running taught me that even while you're counting the miles the focus has to be ahead. I fell into a Pilates studio that specialized in rehab. We discussed my everything and once a week she helped me rebuild. And I had to laugh. Once a week! I used to be a die hard that barely rested a day and here I was making it to exercise once a week. I'd try to walk the same trails I used to run and I'd end up frustrated remembering what was. Once a week turned into twice a week which turned into a walk before plus an hour of pilates. I went to yoga. I remembered how to breathe. I struggled with the darkness. I found a little bit of strength. In the midst of the fear and the dark I learned to fight. Not in the emotional sense in the punch and block and duck Krav Maga sense. I got punched in the face. I lived.
The lesson it seems is that in life you will find people who will punch you in the face. And you will find people who will help you find your strength. That's not an if you are lucky. You will find them. Or they will find you. The key is learning when to duck.
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