Something’s Missing

I've been running since the fall of 1967, that’s 42 years, and I had to stop the last two months due to an injury. It was a scary two months thinking my running career might be over. I was lost.

During my two months away from running there were several rehabilitation attempts that ended in re-injuries. I’d rest for a week, try to run, and I’d be reinjured after a mile. I rested another week, tried to run, and reinjured myself again. I tried two weeks of rest before running with the same end result. At that point any fitness I had was completely lost. There was no reason to hurry back to training, so I decided to rest for four weeks before attempting to run again.

It was after the third period of rest that I really started to get anxious. I thought my lifetime of running was over. I felt as if a close family member had died. It felt like something in me had died. Something important was missing. It was something deep and heartfelt. Yard work and long walks weren’t filling the void. Obviously I missed running, but what is it about running that I was missing?

The camaraderie of the running group was a part of what I missed. I missed my training partners and the discussions on bizarre topics that occur during group runs. This aspect was fun and entertaining.

I also missed the serious aches that let me know I’ve run a good workout. The walks I was doing caused some soreness, and so did the yard work, but neither replaces a run. The general feeling of good health and a fit body were missing.

Perhaps the thing I missed most was the sense of being alive during a run. My chest laboring with heavy breathing, my heart pounding in my chest, my legs hurting going up a hill; in such a moment I’ve never been more aware of how alive I am. It’s the converse of “the pain lets you know you’re not dead yet!” (G.I. Jane) The pain lets me know how alive I am. It is a proud moment too, if pride isn’t too ghastly a sin, to know that I am capable of that kind of exertion that few seek out, and fewer still are capable of performing.

There is something visceral and natural in running. It feels good to move. All the parts of the body are doing what they are meant to do, especially when they are doing it well. It feels like my body was meant to do this. At least it feels good when I get back in shape. Right now it feels like hell, but that too is good. I’ve been through this misery many times over the years and it is okay, because I know where it leads. It leads to competence, then proficiency, and maybe some degree of excellence. Somewhere in there is competition, which is yet another form of fun.

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All is well. I’ve been able to run 8 out of 10 days now, and the two days off were by choice, not by necessity. It was slow, but it fit the technical definition of running. It will be fun to be competitive again. I am working as hard as I dare during every run. Life is good again.

Darth Dad
April 19, 2010