Let the Mind Games Begin

This week of running has been wonderful and difficult all at the same time. The joy attained merely from running in circles around the track at Wake Forest is indescribable. My body is revelling in the feeling of propelling myself forward one step at a time for the sole purpose of moving. As soon as I am done running for the day I begin craving the arrival of tomorrow, so I can experience the elation again. My mind, however, is another story. The moment I reach for my running shoes, my leg begins to hurt. Not like a dull ache sort of hurt, a sharp, stabbing sensation. The funny part is that it does not always hurt in the same spot, it just hurts. Sometimes it is my ankle, sometimes just below my knee, and the most scary times it hurts right where the stress fracture was. It is all in my mind, but it still causes me to pause and go through a brief mental battle before lacing up my shoes and heading out the door. The first few steps I am terrified that I am making the wrong decision, and that I should back off for another week or two, however after just 30 seconds of pain free running I am alway glad that I went for it. All four runs this week were great, but two in particular stand out.

Tuesday was supposed to be an easy day at work, and I was planning to head to the Wake Forest track for my first run of the week at 6 pm. One thing led to another in my preparations for class the next day, and I looked down at my watch as I walked out the door to find it was already 7 pm. This was probably better than leaving at 6 since the sun would still be up for another hour, but the temperature had cooled some. As I approached the locker room a shooting pain went down my left leg, my mind was making its first move in battle. I began to change into running clothes telling myself that the whole purpose of coming to the track was to run on a soft, rubber surface, and that my leg does not really hurt. My mind countered this with a sharp pain in my knee, and it buckled a bit as I took my first step towards the track. I decided to calm myself down by stretching, so I sat down to loosen things up and watch the other runners on the track. One of the most fun parts of being on a track is that you can see the other runners at all times. There are usually a few Wake students there jogging, some people who look like they came from work, and then there are always a few students that look like they are affiliated with one of the college's sports teams doing speed drills. Before I got injured I used to love timing my drills with theirs and feeding off of their speed to help push my workouts harder. This time though, I felt almost ashamed to be seen running next to these people that were clearly in much better shape than myself. I decided to start my run by jogging the wrong way in the outer lane. I was hoping this would give the impression of "I am really fast and just came here for some easy laps." Unfortunately I think the desired effect was lost and that instead people thought I was a slow girl trying to get in shape at the local track and did not know which way to run. Nevertheless, as soon as I finished the first lap I stopped worrying about what everyone else there thought, this felt good. It felt so good, that I decided to run faster on the next lap. After a short while, a mile had come and gone in 7 minutes and 30 seconds. I could not believe it, a 7:30 mile! My lungs were burning and my muscles were threatening to lock up, but I felt wonderful so I kept pushing. At the finish of my second mile the watch again clicked off a 7:30 pace and I slowed down to walk for my cool down. I was so happy and so mad at myself all at once. Happy because I felt like I still "have it" and mad because I know it was absolutely stupid to go that fast on my 3rd run since being in a boot with a stress fracture. I promised myself not to let that happen again, and then allowed myself a small moment of pride in what I had just accomplished. The next day at the track I was sure not to exceed an 8:30 pace, and my lungs were thankful for the rest.

On Saturday back in Charlotte after a few days off I decided it was time for a run on the 3 mile greenway trail. I wanted to enjoy a slow easy pace and have some quality family time with Jason and the pups. I was a little more distracted as we got ready to run this time as leashing up three excited dogs can be challenging (our two, plus Scout - our friend's dog that we have for the week). The mind games didn't start until the the front door had shut behind us on our way out, then I had a quick moment of panic. My watch wasn't finding the satellites quickly, it was hot outside, and my leg hurt; I came so close to talking myself out of running. Fortunately Roxie really needed the workout and looked anxious to get a move on, my watch linked up, and we took off before I could debate the matter any further. All went well for the first 1.5 miles. The dogs were great and ran happily in a little pack next to us, and the heat wasn't too bad once we reached the shade of the greenway. After we hit the turnaround though, things changed. One by one each dog started lagging behind, and we began to wonder if the heat was just too much for them to handle. At the 2 mile mark we decided it was unsafe to push the dogs any further, and Jason offered to take all three of them and walk the last mile slowly so that I could finish up. He knew that I was excited about running 3 miles today, and wanted me to reach my goal without having to worry about the health of our dogs in the process. As I rounded a corner and ran out of site from Jason and the dogs, I heard this horrible high pitched bark/whimper/squealing noise coming from their direction. For a split moment I debating running back to check on them, but figured Reese saw a squirrel or something and would soon quiet down. Then a few seconds later I heard the noise again, but louder. I turned back to look for them only to see Jason and all three dogs running towards me full steam ahead! Apparently the dogs did not fancy the idea of being left behind on our family run, and pulled Jason as fast as they could to catch back up with me. I was so happy to see them coming my way and wish I had a picture to share because it did look a bit funny seeing Jason fly around the corner with three dogs at a full sprint. Their excitement was short lived though, because as soon as we were reunited they slowed down again. Seeing how upset they had been the first time I left we decided to slow the pace and enjoy the last little bit at whatever pace the dogs wanted. I got my three miles, and they did it with me. I realized after our run that I had been so focused on making sure the dogs were doing alright that I had not once thought about my leg. Hopefully this will help me convince myself that I am healed, and the mind games will stop. Until then, I'll keep looking forward to the next battle. At least I know that if there is a fight, it will be followed by a run.