After each layoff I calculate a contrived post injury plan that’ll lead me back to Dreamland Drive. Without fail it always fails. Like trekking 3/4 of the way up a mountain only to miss the breathtaking view at the top; I consistently am sidelined for the pinnacle race.
Whelp, my plans have failed once again; I have tendonitis throughout my lower left leg and foot, and right knee. The domino effect of plantar fascists -> posterior tibial tendonitis -> opposite patella tendonitis is a persistent problem. I made it through 9 weeks of training – right before the sum of successive impressive workouts are capitalized on.
But instead of falling into an abyss of overwhelming doom from my inability to take a step without sharp pain shooting from my foot, I am attempting to embrace the forced time off. I have worked a ton of overtime, interviewed for new jobs, booked a flight to Europe for a 2.5 week solo tour through France, Germany, Italy, and Spain, and have loved coaching.
When I left Boulder a year and a half ago I hoped to find the rest of me. There is more than a runner behind this thick skin and it’s been pining to be discovered. And I finally feel like I am getting there. But, running is still the sole contributor to my sense of fulfillment – my reason for waking each morning and sense of happiness. Some rise for money, others never desire leaving their bed, but I get up with a vengeance, chug several cups of coffee, and grind. So, when my coach asked me if I was frustrated from injury an outrange of emotions fluttered through my soul. Hell yea I’m frustrated. I am resentful, anxious, and crestfallen too. I want to lace up my neon kicks and be worry-less again. I want to fly around the track as the sun is rising. I want to Kenyan shuffle along the river at dusk. I want to run. But I’ve successfully failed once again.