Runner Down

Type. Delete. Type more. Delete. Tears, anger, frustration, my inner self yelling big yells and crying big fat ugly cries.

I have tried to write this entry for several days now, but realized that all the gibberish just bored myself and would no doubt, bore my reader (because I highly doubt I have reader"s"). As a former newspaper reporter, I feel obligated to give facts, but quite frankly, my emotions are driving this post tonight. So, the facts will be sketchy, the language may be colorful and my words may be all over the place, but I just have to get it out of my system.

It's been one month tomorrow since I laced up my running shoes, drove to Mingo Park, and pounded the pavement for 3.45 miles.

March 13: My attempt at a selfie before 3.45 miles-I don't do serious selfies.

 I remember it was a super rough run, only because I had decided back in February that life simply was in the way and wouldn't allow me to have time to devote for training for Cap City AND be a wife/mom/photographer/babysitter/volunteer. That was technically the first "blow," albeit mental. So, I scaled back my runs a bit, decreased my mileage and finally, enjoyed running again, just doing between 2-4 miles (maybe a five miler in there somewhere), here and there. My endurance on March 13 was iffy, and I remember being pissed at myself that I couldn't run a full two miles without stopping. Maybe not even a mile. I don't know. But my endurance was HORRIBLE. It felt good, though, to finish my last stretch running from Mingo to Performing Arts Dance Centre up the road, where my family waited while my oldest had dance class. We then ran errands, and my body ached from my mind giving it a mental kick in the ass, but it was a good ache.

What I wouldn't give, especially on a day like today, to lace up my shoes for ANY run, even if just a mile. To walk out of my front door, turn on my Pandora and MapMyRun and run some miles to decompress. But, I can't. I'm now in limbo with a hip injury, one that almost requires I wear a disclaimer on my shirt: "May or may not stumble with each step I take." Or "Warning: Raging Bitch." Or "Hide All Food: I Will Eat It All In My State of Depression." Seriously. I.am.mad. And I'm hungry.

I have a labral tear in my right hip, and a cyst somewhere around there as well.

I can tell you the exact moment that I knew I was in trouble. The night I shot a wedding as a photographer, I came home, leaned over the bed as I was in a decent amount of pain and could barely walk, rotated my hips to stretch "it" out, whatever "it" was, popped something and fell over in pain. Not smart.

These death sticks did not last long. But, my arms are killer.

Doc has me starting physical therapy, in hopes of strengthening hip to prolong surgery. However, surgery may be inevitable. I have to play my cards right. I transition to fulltime photographer in June, losing a consistent income in babysitting fulltime (hey, know of any part-time flexible jobs for this awesome girl?), so to say I'm already overwhelmed/anxious/scared is an understatement. Now, add in the possibility that I may have pain indefinitely until I have surgery, but I have to plan surgery around my source of income ... overwhelm times ten million. He said there's a possibility I may return to running before the year is over and maybe, without having to have surgery. Yikes. I don't even know. I mean, the prospect of being able to run again makes my heart soar. But the prospect of doing any more damage makes me want to puke. And I've already felt quite nauseous over this whole thing, thankyouverymuch. Surgery, according to my doc, could take a month from which to recover, but Dr. Google says it could even take as long as 4-6 months. Yes, I know. Stay off Dr. Google. Regardless, surgery=suckage, but with a nice pot of running at the end of the rainbow.

My non-runner friends and family more than likely think I'm a whack job, getting so worked up and emotional about this. But, I remind them to think of it this way: When I worked a traditional fulltime job, photography was my outlet. Now that it's my job (albeit an AMAZING job and doesn't even feel like a job to me, no joke), I need my running to be my outlet. I need that sense of physical pride in myself, the motivation, the adrenaline rush and setting those personal physical goals. It's my "me" time, a time I can take for myself (because I don't have that commute to and from work anymore to decompress), to think about everything, nothing, successes, failures, food, etc. My girls saw their mom setting a goal for herself, practicing and working hard to accomplish that goal, and now, Mommy is sad, hid her running shoes, and shoved her running clothes as far underneath a pile of laundry that needs folded.

Hot Chocolate 5K, November 2013

While I cherish my "shop talk" with all of my 'tog friends, I geek out on "run talk" with my fellow runners. Now, I'm not gonna lie, I can't relate to my runner friends and their gear talk, mileage talk, race results, etc. I haven't been a part of the running club I (would like to think I) help start, and was so enthused to see it grow and thrive. I HATE being sidelined. My newsfeed fills with my awesome friends posting their awesome race photos, and while I'm fist-pumping their success, I'm cursing my stupid hip for keeping me from registering for awesome races this spring and summer. I had to hide notifications to a couple of running groups, am going through and unliking Facebook pages for upcoming races ... Yeah, it's like that. I'm a bitter brat having a temper tantrum. And, I'm sorry for that.

I know it's temporary, but it feels so permanent. I hate-HATE-to complain because I have some friends who are experiencing far worse, which is why I kept deleting my posts, but I just really have to get it off my chest. The above is how I feel mentally, and physically, it's up and down on an hourly basis. (Which, by the way, if this is a little tear, I can't imagine what a larger injury to the hip feels like.) I can't pivot on my leg, so I do this weird shuffle. Sitting on the floor to change Josie's diaper is a crapshoot-if I put my right leg out to position myself to change her diaper, I can't rotate my leg in and out or else it'll pop/crack and I'll feel intense pain. Every single time I stand up after sitting down, again, crapshoot: Will I be able to walk normal, or will my hip lock up, causing me to buckle? Will my hip hitch mid-stride and I walk normal for a few steps, then walk on the right ball of my foot? Everyone who sees me probably thinks I'm a nutjob/faker: One day, I'm fine, walking and following Josie as she happily explores outside, the next, I'm limping or bracing myself on a crutch. Parts of me just wants to freaking book the surgery already. But I wait. And I'm crossing my fingers that physical therapy really does help.

Anyway, if you made it this far, thank you for reading. Again, I know I'll be fine. I know I'm going to eventually be able to run again someday. I know many more people are struggling with worse. However, I have already found comfort in other blogs about injured runners; maybe I'll be able to look back on this one day and thank my lucky stars that God made me slow down enough to focus on what's important: My health, my children.

Rough. Week 4/Days 4&5

Rough definitely describes my last two days. I haven't been sleeping well this week, and my body is feeling it. My 3.5-mile run last night was cut short by .5 miles because I.just.couldnt.go.anymore. Which makes me mad. I couldn't go .5 miles more? My legs gave up on me and even when they did, I mentally stayed in it as long as I could ... But it wasn't long enough. It's ok because I had a GREAT running week last week. I'd rather have a bad running week and then, hopefully have an amazing running week next week, including my first 10k next Saturday (God help me)! My goal for it is to run the first half, then run-walk the second half, unless, by some miracle, my feet just keep moving.

Anyway, results of my run last night:

My optional cross training tonight went ok. I needed the break from running, although I did do a mile. I THOUGHT I had a great mile and swear my pace was faster than it says it was ... I'm convinced my stupid app doesn't work. I then jumped on the elliptical for four miles. I HATE that machine but I made it my friend tonight.

It's Time.

It's time. Time to keep my running life separate from the rest of my life, and not shove it down the throats of those folks who don't want to hear about it. After all, I'm learning that there are two groups of people: Runners and non-runners. (Duh.) But no, seriously. I never, ever, for the life of me, understood why people wanted to run, and what was so special about running. Now, I wish everyone had the chance to be able to run for FUN. Yes, FUN. Do I love it so much while I'm doing it? Not at all. But the thrill of knowing you RAN several miles and did so without dying ... well, it's pretty cool. So, those who haven't been able to do this before have a hard time of getting excited for you when you run a mile under 11 minutes, or you bought spikes or ran four miles in snow and wind, and you actually WANTED to do that ... for FUN.

Please don't get me wrong. Runners are not superior to non-runners. We (whoa ... weird for me to consider myself a part of the running population ... lol!), like any hobby or sport, have a hard time talking to folks who don't run and don't share our enthusiasm. If a friend came to me tomorrow with a discussion on how amazing her table tennis game was last week, I would more than likely tune her out and instead, daydream about dinner.

I started this blog because I needed a personal document more to myself than to anyone, of the trials and tribulations on my journey. My closest friends of whom I talk to daily know what a hard balance my life already is. They know that after a fall of extreme burnout, some life decisions and soul searching, that adding something else to my already-full plate, is insane. They know my time is split between family, Girl Scouts and dance class and babysitting and photography and running and volunteering, and know I do all on little sleep often times. They know I make mistakes and they understand and forgive me when I just can't budge one more minute with time. But, they also know that this is a personal goal of mine. Has it ALWAYS been a goal? Not at all. Not until October 2013. But I needed something to work toward, a goal that would not only help get me motivated and off my butt. I needed something that would be tangible but tough, something that would be emotionally, physically and mentally challenging, that would make me cry, laugh and above all, make me do fist pumps and bring happy tears to my eyes once I met my goal. Some may say, "but that's why you have three beautiful girls. Aren't they a factor in any of this?" Absolutely, 100 percent. In fact, they are a driving force of why I've decided to do this. As girls growing up in a society that is completely different from the one I knew years ago, I want them to create goals for themselves and work hard to reach them, and not become too comfortable within their lives. I want them to always strive to do better and be better, but know that they already are wonderful and beautiful and gosh darn it, people like ... no, LOVE them. Of course, a tiny part of me wants to inspire them, but 99 percent of me wants them to be able to get that heart-swelling-with-pride-for-themselves thing going on after they reach a goal. Do I feel guilty when I leave for an hour of the day to go for a run? So incredibly much. My heart aches when I drive (or run) away and my girls are standing in the window, waving. But after soul searching this fall, I realized that I HAVE to have some "me" time to be a good wife and mother. I HAVE to find something, aside from my family and photography, that brings me to my Zen, that leaves me walking away feeling great and accomplished, just like my family and photography does. And running is it. Sure, I'm walking a very thin line of balance, and some days, I just want to throw in the towel because my legs literally cannot take me anywhere else in the scheme of daily life. But, I don't. I can't. I won't.

I couldn't do what I do without my wonderful family and close friend circle. They see me at my worst and cheer for me at my best. They know my faults, they acknowledge I'm human and make mistakes and try my very best and know I have the love of my family FIRST, on my priority list. They know that every single move I do throughout my daily life, I do it out of love for my children, husband, family and friends. They know I wouldn't do what I do on a daily basis -- running myself ragged, at times -- if I didn't love the things in life that matter most. They certainly don't give me guilt trips, and they love me unconditionally, despite my protests of sore legs, heavy workload and little sleep. To them (and they know who they are), they, along with my girls, are the beacons on a stormy night, and I'm forever grateful they allow me to be in their lives.

Thanks for stopping, thanks for reading, and if you have a spare moment, get your tennis shoes on and take a walk, breathe in that fresh air, and find your Zen.