sometimes you just have to walk a little bit
notes on coming back to running
There’s definitely a multisyllabic German word for the combination of feelings experienced by many endurance/backcountry fans: part “life is too short”,1 part “run towards the fear/the only way out is through”, part “prove my body is not a broken piece of shit by doing something slightly stupid and really hard”, and part “that looks fun and cool when other people do it, I also would like to look fun and cool.”
Entrenched in a miasma of this complex emotion after some health issues in the fall, I decided to try snowboarding for the first time this winter.
Halfway across the world on the bunny slopes of Niseko, Japan, I did exactly what I didn’t want to do: hurt myself snowboarding in a way that impacted general running and movement.
Here’s what happened: I was attempting some easy rides, working up the courage to board a gondola, when my front edge suddenly caught in some tramped-up snow. I fell directly on my lower right rib cage, either bruised or cracked something. Running was still possible, just tolerably painful. Heeding professional advice from my PT & coach, I decided to take 4-6 weeks off.
Recovery is often equal parts gratitude and frustration. I am grateful I can move pain-free again, grateful for the miracle of a body that healed itself with some PT and stretching and breathing; but I am frustrated that what used to feel effortless is now a slog. They say it takes 10 weeks to get in shape, 10 days to get out of it, and this feels true. The body is astounding and infuriating.
This time around, I have been shocked to find the gratitude easily outweighing the impatience and aberrations, and it’s been so lovely. Perhaps it’s just what happens with age & experience; perhaps it's the years of therapy & SSRIs; perhaps (likely) both. This isn’t my first rodeo. I have been injured and rebuilt several times, cycling through setback after setback. Running is one of the longest relationships I have had in my life. At this point, I have proven to myself that I can recover fully, even surpassing prior limits and goals. I have confidence in what I have achieved and what I am capable of, now and in the future. I trust my body. I trust my practice.
My motivation has shifted as well. I don’t run to someday run a sub-21 minute 5K or prevent weight gain (cringe). I run because it makes my brain and my body happy, because it’s my favorite way to get fresh air and move my body outside. I have tried to tell myself “I get to do this” in the past, but it never landed. Now, running pretty slow on easy routes after work feels like a gift. I don’t want to get faster (though I wouldn’t hate it if it happened). I want to run pain-free multiple times a week until I die of old age.
I was supposed to run 4 miles last Saturday. Halfway around the lake trail, I felt the sudden urge to take a walk break. I walked for 5 whole minutes until I felt like running again, then ran the rest of the way. It did not ruin the run, or discount it, as I once feared.
Sometimes you just have to walk a little bit.
good things on the internet
drinking stoop coffee as community building. I love the distinction of “broadening vs. deepening: we bucket our events into “broadening” events which have the purpose of meeting new neighbors and “deepening” events which allow us to get to know our existing neighbors better.” ☕
currently reading
Pachinko by Min Jin Lee: I feel very stupid & American saying this, but I had no idea that Japan occupied & colonized Korea in the 20th century until reading this engaging multi-generational family saga.
James by Percival Everett: Flew through this one! You do not need to read Huckleberry Finn to enjoy this reclamation of Twain’s titular character. CW, graphic depictions of slavery.
Brain Fog is Here to Stay by Katie Arnold-Ratliff (The Cut):
“Maybe you can’t shut down part of your mind for self-preservation, for sanity, and expect the rest to keep functioning at peak speed. I think the fog never lifted for many of us — for me, certainly — because the horrors never did, either. Life, specifically American life, continues to demand that we perform this dance, that we balance the mundane and the frightening without going insane. Change your bedsheets and dine with friends and buy your niece a birthday gift as you wonder if you’ll be put in a “wellness farm” because you take Zoloft. Drive past men in ICE vests on the way to Staples. Is tomorrow wacky-sock day at your child’s school? Will the school be underwater in a decade? Google crypto-fascist while you wait for your turn at self-checkout. As best we can, we assimilate these terrible things into the doldrums of our days. We tell ourselves we’re managing it. But quietly, our brains shudder beneath the weight of the task.”
this week’s jam
photo of my cats
aka big 2012 Obama-era YOLO energy