Excuse me if I sound a little completely melodramatic here, but I am having a really rough week and I feel the need to get all of my feelings out right now. This past week I have felt unusually sad about never being able to run again. Yes, other things have troubled me as well, but not being able to run has heavily weighed on me lately.
It all started Sunday. While Zac and I were cleaning the house, we had some music playing. Many of the songs were my classic go-to songs to help me get through a particularly difficult treadmill run. Each time one of these songs played, I just broke down and cried. Cleaning rag in hand, I just fell to pieces, completely lost focus of the task at hand, and downright sobbed. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t, and still can’t, explain it. And worst of all, this hopeless feeling that overcomes me and makes me utterly upset is the same feeling I’ve had all week.
This continued throughout the week. Earlier this week I drove by some of the old running routes I routinely ran and the same thing happened. I sat there in the car gazing blankly at the trail, remembering what it was like to glide over the trail so effortlessly as if I was flying. I was thinking about how it was when I was alone on the path, lost in my own thoughts and inner-monologue, and could hear the steady cadence of my feet hitting the path with rhythmic precision. It only got worse when I drove right past the park where I use to meet my running group at for our weekly long training runs. It was the first time I saw the park since I learned that I can no longer run and that, technically, I am no longer a runner. Oh, I have such great memories from that park. I looked forward to every Saturday morning where I was awake before the sun was. I looked forward to conquering the long runs, the 18 and 20 plus mile runs, with my running club, who really were more like family to me. I looked forward to feeling so accomplished afterward. I looked forward to being one week closer to a race. Now I feel like all of that is lost.
This week has also been particularly tough, or at least tougher than earlier, when I see runners. I get this pang of resentment that just comes over me. I am outraged that I can’t run and tremendously jealous that the runner is doing something that I feel like I would do almost anything to do. I get so angry, but that anger quickly turns into a feeling of hopelessness and despair.
So while I do try my best to remain positive about the situation, it is getting much more difficult to do so. At times it almost feels trivial to be this upset about not being able to run anymore, but it is rather unfortunate. It has been more than a year since I last ran, and while I am use to not running, I am not prepared to never do it again.