She biked. For about an hour and a half on Thursday afternoon. It felt good. Nothing hurt.
And now, this morning, after all of that deprivation and relatively good-humored despair, my leg hurts. Just a little, but still.
This is starting to get me down. I really did think a week of No Running would take care of this problem. Obviously I was wrong, because here I set with an ice pack on my leg and no prospect of EVER RUNNING AGAIN.
Yes, I'll run again. I'm just having a few moments of weakness, after all. But when?
Having not run for most of the summer, I am still trying to understand the lure. Why this need to constantly move forward? To feel the ground under my feet in that very specific thump-thump way that nothing but running provides. I yearn for the thump-thump under my feet. For the pleasant, stare-inducing exhaustion that comes after a good, long run. Just for the feeling of moving at a decent pace across the earth for hours at a time.
No, this isn't life or death. Yes, I am whining. I have so very much in my life to be thankful for, and Not Running has highlighted much of that. And assuming I do return to distance running (yes, for goodness sake, you will), I will be ever so grateful for that first long run.
I saw a new physical therapist this week, because my usual PT, Bill, is on vacation. She said this to me: "You're almost there. It's getting much better. You should be running again in two, three weeks!"
Okay, breathe. You'll live. You'll run again.
The upside of all of this is that I have finally gotten myself into the weight room. I saw a trainer this week for an hour and she showed me some great stuff. And my book arrived (thank you for the tip, Helen).
It's called The New Rules of Lifting for Women. I like the premise: forget toning, forget spot training, don't worry about bulking up because it probably won't happen, just get into the gym and go for it. The authors present six to eight months of great workouts to be done in succession, highlighting the big muscle groups. Once I can safely do a squat (I'll have to ask the PT about that), I begin the regime. I'm actually, weirdly, looking forward to it.
And now I feel better. Just walked around and let the dogs out and my leg feels fine. I want to go back and delete all of that whining up there, but I won't. Let it stand. I hope to go back some brighter future day and see how ridiculous I was. Move on.
Up side: I wasn't out running when this happened. (Yes, we have a bright plastic Slip n Slide in the yard. Sorry, neighbors!)
Or this. (The Country Fair for Nell's last day of camp at Terra Firma Farm.)
Or this. (How do these children survive each day intact??)
AND I cleaned the house and got some of our homeschool stuff in order. Who needs running when life is as rich as this?