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I decided something today.
I have to take care of my body. That is why I am taking this week off from running and icing my foot as much as possible. No running. Hmmmm....
Ok, let's take a step back. I'm feeling a little twinge on the top of my left foot, which I have felt before. But this time, it's hurting a little bit more so I don't want to take any risks - I don't want this to become a full-blown stress fracture.
Also, I should disclose that I'm not one to NOT take care of myself and my body. When I start feeling a cold coming on, I chug as much Emergen-C and hot tea as I can. Preventative measures always work better than trying to tackle these types of situations as they happen. I've been trying to ice and stretch as much as I can to keep my body limber and happy.
This time seems different to me, though. This time, I'm ok with not running for a week because I know that it is better in the long run for me (get it ... long run ... heh ... heh). This time, I'm not frustrated with being "injured." Somewhere along the line, I've come to the realization that running is hard on anyone's body. It is inevitable that things are going to hurt and time off is usually the best healer. Time and frozen peas, which are my lifesavers.
Now that I've come to peace with injuries as part of the joy of running, I feel really good about this decision. Although I have to ignore the pull to get out in the morning, I am trying to relish the warm moments in bed that I have instead. I'm going to do some elliptical cross-training and weight lifting, but will focus on getting my body feeling better and healthy.
I know I've made this post all about just one week off from running. And in the grand scheme of things, it's not a super big deal. But for me, I want to commemorate this week because it is the first time that I've acknowledged that injuries exist and that I need to be ok with that. And I am. So, later, when I start complaining about how injuries are horrible and how I can't stay positive when I can't do the one thing I want to do, remind me to take a look at this post. Hopefully I'll keep my cool and go grab a bag of frozen peas.
I was a freshman in high school ... still a newbie and figuring out my place in the pecking order that high schools inevitably become ... I had been hanging out in the commons area that morning and I'm not even quite sure how we heard about the attacks; a TV somewhere must have been turned on to the news, a teacher's feeble attempt to try to force something, anything, into our closed-off brains that only pay attention to cute boys, food and gossip ...
When the news broke, no one really knew what to do ... I distinctly remember one of my closest friends laughing and asking what the big deal was ... like planes fly into skyscrapers on a daily basis ... I yelled at her ... I couldn't help it ... my aunt worked in that building ... she was a secretary for one of the companies there ... and we had no clue if she had to work that day ... so I yelled ... "of course it's serious - people are dying!" It's horrible to say, but that comment from that friend changed how I viewed her for the rest of my time in that small town ... she had been insensitive at the one moment when chaos was not of the controlled kind and all anyone wanted was for someone to reach over, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok."
The rest of the day is a blur ... I'm sure we went to class and attempted to learn new things, but really, how can anyone focus on the quadratic equation when your brain is confused at the inhumanity of humanity? Where had the goodness gone? What causes one human being to turn on another? Could I continue to believe in others?
My aunt was fine ... she didn't work at the company when the towers fell ... the dark, heavy feeling that was sitting in the pit of each member of my family's stomach was slowly released when we heard that. But many other families weren't as lucky as we were, and I wondered if it was ok to celebrate our news in a time that was clearly not cause for celebration.
It was odd ... initially, right after the attacks, we were all affected by it ... America had been attacked. But slowly, 9/11 became just a day ... that's what happens when you live all the way across the country, when your office view doesn't change and you don't smell dust and death, don't taste the hatred at others ... we in Arizona were only smelling fall and tasting the new football season ... we were removed, far removed from what had happened ... TV stations didn't show highlights anymore and although suddenly we were in war, it didn't touch us ... I still went to cross-country practice and my mom still wouldn't let me date the senior football star.
Sure, I think now, we fly flags a little more proudly and we say Amurrica with a grunting sound, trying to prove that we know what it means to be a strong, free and powerful country. But unless you were in New York that day, or unless you lost someone, or unless you went to fight when we cried war, I don't think 9/11 has the same poignancy. I truly believe this. For me, 9/11 is a day that reminds me that everyone is vulnerable.
I don't want to end with any cliches ... "we've banded together and are stronger because of it" ... because I don't believe in that at all ... 9/11 divided ... us vs. them ... good vs. bad ... U.S. vs. the world ... everyone's taking care of themselves ... isn't it time to reach over to someone you care for, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok"?
I woke up this morning in pain. What a horrible way to start the day.
This time, it was my calves. They were about as tight as a rubber band on the biggest rubber band ball. I felt a deep, bruising ache that made it hard to want to get out of bed, much less walk the dog. But as all dog owners know, there are consequences when you don't let them relieve themselves in a timely fashion.
I am guilty of maybe the worst crime in running circles. Hi, my name is Anica and I don't stretch. I've just never been a big fan of stretching or taking the time to stretch. I have these old memories of sitting on itchy, new grass on a track infield while the captains (usually cute, older sprinters) led us through a stretching routine. It always involved some bouncing (reach those toes, kids!) and counting to 10...boring! Plus, I had a cross country coach who also wasn't a big proponent of stretching. Sure, we did some at the beginning of practice, but he never spouted wisdom as to why stretching was good for us.
I even did a stint with a physical therapist who showed me the correct way to stretch out my muscles. And I have to say, even now, some of them feel really, really good. And I can see the benefits. But I've never been able to get into the routine of stretching at night before hitting the sack, or getting up five minutes earlier to stretch before running.
And now, I'm paying for it. Getting old sucks.
So, today I went up to the gym during lunch and did a solid 30 minutes of stretching and lengthening. I felt better afterwards, but was really craving my Stick and foam roller, both of which I have at home. While static stretching can help, I really like the way my body feels after rolling out. The roller can pinpoint tight spots very quickly and can help release that tension, something that's hard to do while reaching for your toes. I will definitely put both the roller and Stick to work tonight and see if I can get more of the kinks out of my calves, especially.
I think it might be time to splurge on a massage. I've found that when my body gets too tightly wound, stretching & rolling & self-massaging & icing just don't help. My body needs a professional's touch. It might be that time.
