running

I Never Have Been One To Give Up

Late October of last year I was having a crummy day and took off for a run. I needed the fresh air and movement to calm my mind, and I don’t use the word need lightly. There’s nothing absolutely nothing like a run to organize both my thoughts and my day and give a hefty lift to my spirit.

At the end of my run I limped up the driveway and decided to call the doctor and take a month or so off, just for good measure. The crankiness in my knee was becoming downright ticked off, and running was the obvious culprit.

Fast forward to today, a year later, and I have attempted two runs since then.

Darn.

In August, I decided to quit going for walks too.

I had been beyond worried that it would be a surgical case, that I’d be laid up for several weeks. Instead it’s a complex scenario of bursitis, patellofemoral syndrome and IT band syndrome. None of them are particularly severe, but none are readily treatable.

We tried two different types of injections in two different places, and I’m none the better for them.

What more is there to do but rest? This particular malady, or combination of them, isn’t awful, in fact, when I just sit around, it calms right down.

Alas, that’s easier said than done. Running not only keeps my mind on track, it tones and sculpts my body. It’s my go-to for managing stress, grief, joy, frustration, my ADHD and my weight and health. I have literally been self-medicating every part of my physical and mental health with intense and prolonged exercise. It’s like the snake oil of yesteryear, guaranteed to fix everything from the vapors to sleep.

And now, like dust in the wind, it’s gone.

Not that there is such a thing as good timing, but during the first year after losing our daughter to an overdose, I was in a lousy position for losing my primary coping mechanism.

I prefer to keep a positive attitude, but in this case, I have been just plain pouty. I’ve lost my ability to run in the past, and against the odds, worked my butt off getting back on my feet. I just wonder aloud why me, when there are millions of people who would no sooner run than be swarmed by bees. A knee that only gets cranky with exercise would be no burden to many, why, once again, do I have to suck it up and give up something that I love and that’s good for me in so many ways?!

I won’t BS you and try to say that I understand any of this. But I will tell you that I’m not about to stay down.

Instead I’ve been seeing a counselor and learning new and more coping skills. I’ve developed many new hobbies like collecting maple sap and making syrup and tending chickens, as well as cultivating my largest and most productive garden yet and canning and freezing the bounty.

I’ve enjoyed living the slower pace of homesteading, and it’s indubitaly beneficial to have my pocket full of coping skills to better equip me for whatever life throws at me.

But. . .

I won’t give up on running.

My shoes have moved to the back shelf in the garage, and they’re mighty dusty, yet I’m clinging to them with just a tiny glimmer of hope.

I never have been one to give up on anything.

running

Back to Basics, Back to Balance.

I’m getting back on the wagon. No, I am not on a diet. (Well, not really).

I have this pair of snow pants that are my “reel it in” gauge. I’ve had them for over 20 years, and while their primary purpose is insulation while playing outside, the serve me well as the canary which signals that things aren’t what they should be. I’ve taken to doing a serious wiggle dance to get them over my hiney, so that is my signal that it’s time to eat less and move more.

My presumption is that it’s far easier to lose 10lbs, (even if it’s the same 10lbs that I have gained and lost umpteen times) than it is to let it go any further.

The first thing I do is start a food log and get a handle on portion size.

Because I love to eat.

It’s not easy to calorie count when 90% of your food is made from scratch, but at least I know I’m in range.

Next step is moving more. I’m not exactly sedentary, but let’s just say that writing isn’t an aerobic workout. But, my knee and my thyroid are back in shape, which removes my limitations.

There have been a few times in my life when I have been strong, healthy and fit. Though I know that as I age regaining and retaining that level of fitness will get ever more difficult, I will get as close to this as possible.

It might sound like I’m getting carried away, it might sound like vanity, and sure there’s some of that, but that’s not all.

When I make time to exercise and eat right, it’s the best self care I know how to do. It improves my physical health, my emotional and mental health, and there’s enormous benefit to loving the way I look.

The Lee I like best is the one who comes in soaked with sweat and flying high on endorphins and endocannabinoids after running for an hour or two. She’s the one who is a better wife and mother and happier person. Probably because I treat her so well.

It’s all about balance, and my balance has been teetering, so here I go again.

running

A Not Running Runner

Hi, my name is Lee, and I am a not running runner. My knee is funky and my thyroid is wonky and running just isn’t in the cards lately.

I don’t know how many runners you know, but when a person transforms into a runner, truly a runner, it’s like getting a factory reset. It’s an identity change, which transcends everything. Being a runner changed the way I eat, sleep, drink, and think. It gave me community and a vision of myself that shifted my paradigm.

But mostly, running keeps my head on straight.

It doesn’t matter how long my to-do list, how frustrating my circumstances, how chaotic my environment, and how upheaved my emotions, if I can bang out a few miles on the pavement or trails, and especially if I can squeeze in a 10+ miler at some point, I can hold it together, no matter what life throws at me.

And when I’m not running, the opposite is true.

Just as my shoes sit in this disheveled pile, gathering dust and cobwebs, my mind stagnates for need of a run.

I wonder what the doctor would (will) say if (when) I tell him that I would let him sell a kidney on the black market if he can get me going again. I suspect that the sports medicine doctor has heard it all, the endocrinologist might be a bit appalled.

I try not to whine, I know it doesn’t help but I just want to run! When can I run again? Will someone please tell me?

Please tell me this condition isn’t terminal!