Sundays are my 'long run' day. It is the day I am either racing or just out enjoying and exploring new routes. They are the days I look forward to the most and here it is today, Sunday, and I am grounded. It was so hard not putting on my gear and heading out. Instead, I battled another day with nasty stomach cramps and weird itching - both known side effects of Naproxen - took my muscle relaxer alone, and put on my knee brace. The pity party started as I looked out at the road behind our house. The road that leads to all my long run routes, and those not yet run.
Last night I spent a lot of time battling fears - What if the doctor finds something in the X-Rays that requires surgery? What if he says I have gotten all the use out of my old knees that I am going to get with all my running years behind me? WHAT IF HE SAYS I CAN'T RUN ANY MORE?
Depressed, I went to the store and on the way, Barry Manilow came on the radio singing "Mandy". The drama of that song alone can be emotion-invoking for any one who has ever lost someone (or something!) important to them. What a sad coincidence it happened to play driving down a street I run on, as I saw a lone runner passing to my left. A woman in a blue jacket, black slacks and a light blue runners cap with a nice slow pace. She looked peaceful. So there is Barry Manilow passionately crooning of something lost, me going through runners withdrawals, passing a route I enjoyed, seeing another runner on it.
The flood gates opened and the pity party became a full on Worry-Self-Pity-Sob Fest.
Is the State of Washington filled with runners? They are EVERYWHERE!
Tomorrow morning I will have my answers. Odds are I will be told I can run again. Right? After all, I have been pain free ALL day today. That has to be a good sign.
Right?
RIGHT?!?
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