I’m in a holding pattern.
In the last few weeks, I’ve become quiet to the issue of running or not running again. My body is starting to forget that I used to run. My running shoes are now gym shoes. Going to the market shoes. My clothing is tucked away…and I have slowly watched myself get out of running mode.
Losing running this Summer was devastating at first. I’m not an overly fit person normally. I found running at such a late stage of my life, that it was really not part of my persona. But. It is now. I look longingly at people running in the heat…like a dog at the window wanting to go outside.
So, I tried not to gain too much weight (I think I’m at 7 pounds right now), and I tried to do the best I could at getting in exercise…and also became aware that I might not be able to run again. Ever. So, I’ve done a little grieving about it, and have gotten into acceptance.
In one week I go to the doctor. If he says I can’t run, I will be okay. I have enough of everything I’ve ever needed. I have so far been blessed with 3 years of runs and races. I have met friends that I have reconnected with, who don’t run anymore either, or have shifted away from that obsessive-compulsive behavior…who are more well-rounded. They have shared with me ways they dealt with the shift of a new type of life…not one where every weekend is built around a race.
Still. I am hoping for the best. I am hoping I can run right out of the doctor’s office. If not, I have accepted my limitations…and I’m okay with that.