Runner, Interrupted
I take running for granted.
Over the past seven years it has always been there. Through life changes, ups and downs, stress, grief, celebrations, and everything in between, I have known I could put on a pair of running shoes and head out the door. Maybe it would be a great run. Maybe it would be a terrible run. Maybe it would only be a mile. But the option was always there.
But this past week it wasn’t.
What started as feeling under the weather last Sunday eventually turned into a pneumonia diagnosis by the end of the week. One doctor visit became two, fevers came and went, and instead of tracking miles I found myself tracking temperatures. Happy to say that as I write this I am finally feeling like myself again.
Needless to say with a lung infection no running was had this week.
Physically, I think I will be fine missing a week of training for the Peachtree Road Race. Mentally, however, losing running for a week was more of an adjustment than I expected, especially when it wasn't by choice.
The Missed Run
I am stubborn and a little delusional. I think those are two reasons I stay consistent with running.
So when Monday rolled around, my first thought wasn't that I wouldn't be running this week. It was that I would probably feel better tomorrow. Tuesday came, the training plan popped up on my screen, and I stared at the workout.
Can I do this today?
Maybe just a mile of it?
Deep down I knew none of those were good ideas. But runners convince ourselves that almost anything counts as a good decision if it means getting a run in.
It’s a hard thing to let go when not by choice. In a fever dream, I see myself out on the run, clicking off the miles just to be snapped back to the reality of me in a cold sweat trying to make it through the next work meeting.
Katie reminded me not to worry, that I could run a 10K in my sleep. She is probably right. The problem was that sleep was proving just as difficult as running.
The Space Between
Running has become my place to think. It is where blog ideas come from, where I work through problems, where I replay conversations, and where I process whatever happens to be bouncing around in my head. Sometimes I find answers on a run. Most of the time I simply leave feeling lighter than when I started.
This week there was no run.
The thoughts that would normally get sorted out over a few miles just stayed put. The stress of the day lingered longer. The overthinking had nowhere to go. Instead of working through things one step at a time, I found myself sitting with them.
It made me wonder if running has become a crutch. Is it healthy that so much of my mental reset is tied to one activity? I don't know the answer to that. What I do know is that this week reminded me how much running provides beyond fitness.
It gives me space and when that disappears, I feel it instantly.
A Lesson in Patience
Running has always been simple on the surface to me. You get back what you put in. It has taught me consistency, perseverance, and my discipline and has played well into it.
Patience, however, has always been a work in progress.
When I want to do something I want to do it now. I do not want to wait. Running has helped me with this but it is the setbacks that have shown me what patience really looks like.
There was no workout to push through. No pace to chase. The only productive thing I could do was recover and for someone who likes measurable progress, recovery feels strangely uncomfortable.
I have been fussed at more than once this week for checking my temperature every hour as if the number might magically change because I looked at it again. Apparently obsessively refreshing health metrics is not all that different from obsessively refreshing running metrics.
I have practiced a lot of patience this week. I would argue my family has practiced even more patience dealing with me. Sick Dave is not always fun. Neither is Dave who can't run.
Running Is Not Going Anywhere
As I write this, I do not know when my next run will be, though my training plan says Tuesday. But that's the thing about training plans. You can have everything mapped out perfectly, the workouts, the shoes, the nutrition, the race calendar, and still not be in control.
This week taught me patience. It taught me to trust my body. It also reminded me that the world will not fall apart if I miss a run, even if it sometimes feels that way in the moment.
For seven years I have largely taken running for granted. It has always been there when I needed it. Waiting for me after a stressful day. Waiting when I needed clarity. Waiting when I simply wanted to see what I was capable of.
And it will be there again.
Running will still be waiting to humble me, teach me something new, and show me that I am capable of more than I think. The roads are not going anywhere. Neither are the trails, the races, or the goals.
But for now, the job is not to run.
The job is to rest, recover, and make sure that when I lace up my shoes again, I don't take that opportunity for granted.
