And on the sixth day...

Agreeing to rest was a struggle this past Sunday night. My well meaning husband, who deep down I know is just looking for ways for me to be pain-free as much as I am, basically had to force me to agree to a break. That night I couldn't sleep, I felt like I was near breaking. It's simple really, running is that thing in my life that I exert the most control; when, how fast, how far. I determine the aspects of much of my running life and this forced recovery has overwhelmed me with how promptly it has removed those choices. I've been left with little control over something that assisted me in feeling grounded.

Day one of rest was hard. I awoke to a life I felt removed from and yet had to live. My runner's life. My closet, my shoes, my friends, my Facebook feed, my calendar, my diet, they're all a runner's. The pain in my leg was matched with a pain deep within me, like that of grieving. Why would I think I wouldn't return, you ask? Because I fear failure to be my middle name, it beckons in my right ear and was now whispering in my leg. I couldn't get my bearings, it felt worse than it obviously was. The scene from inside the middle though can be so much different than the view others have looking in or that you might have looking back.

Weakness doesn't suit me, neither does the unknown. The pain in my leg and not knowing how long the recovery would ultimately last made Monday hours longer than usual.  I decisively reckoned I had to get out of dodge. I contacted my brother and asked for safe haven. I made plans for Tuesday's travel, it busied me in ways that made me thankful.

Day two was easier, there is something to be said about long car rides freeing the mind. I arrived in Manassas with a slightly less clouded view, but I'd be lying if I didn't say the runs I wasn't running weren't weighing on me. Time lost, fitness slipping. My brother and his girlfriend could not have been better hosts, they readily accepted our hastily planned visit. We enjoyed Mexican food and they showed me something called Spotify.

Day three I was ready for a reprieve from the pain in my leg, but it was still there as tender as ever. I spent hours with Jordan, my hopeful-sister-in-law to be, trying to narrow down the body parts that were ailing me. Turns out your lower leg is a complicated place. Only two bones but many muscles and tendons that I was unaware of, the pain while originating in one place up nearer the knee was also down around my ankle. It was hard to determine the names or even how many different overused parts were fatigued. We took a break in the morning to visit the battleground of Bull Run, the Stone Bridge in particular and allowed the kids to stretch their legs. I took a picture of Bailey running at one point, the smile on a young child's running face is so innocent and perfect, it made me miss enjoying running more than the act of actually running. Walking wasn't troublesome and as we passed runners I envisioned future visits, future runs. Once a runner...

Perhaps it was the social network and news of that evening's run for which I was absent, but Wednesday night was hard. Lying awake my brain was a buzz of activity. Thoughts good and bad, but predominantly bad, kept me wide awake with the help of two cups of Green Mountain Coffee earlier in the evening I probably should have skipped. Listening to Spotify and allowing my mind to wander I suddenly had a simple child-like epiphany.

When I was young I used to think my life was a movie, the music that I played the soundtrack. I imagined the writing of this movie, of my story. As I got older and realized that my life was not so glorious or even interesting, the movie just ended. Lying in that guest bedroom the other night I thought about my life as a story, protagonist, antagonist. Every good story has essential parts. And every good story has conflict. I thought of Brodie, the struggle I had while I was pregnant, him at the end, well there just couldn't be a better possible ending. I smiled, with nobody watching in a dark room, a smile I felt deep down in my bones.  To be any good your story needs struggle.

Day four began after a night of very little sleep and yet I felt better than I had all week. I began the trip back home, several more hours alone with  my thoughts as the children napped in the back seat. I got several  messages from friends, even a few calls, people checking in on me and my leg. Boy it's good to have friends that care about you. I had stopped thinking about what may be bothering me and had decided I was going to go see a doctor, the desire to know stronger than the desire to be cheap. I had just told Todd my plans to seek another's opinion when a friend messaged me with a possible solution to both my need to know and my pocketbook. The story writes itself if you will allow it.

Yesterday, day five, I wrapped the leg with an ace bandage and occasionally rubbed some Hyland's homeopathic muscle therapy on it. I am avoiding pain medicine and anti-inflammatory drugs, having read they may slow the bodies natural healing process down. I messaged a few friends, reaching out for further help and finding solace in their words.

In the evening we had made arrangements to go see a play at E.C. Glass. I'd read when you're injured do the things you never do when you're training. It was part of the reason I'd gone to visit my brother. The spouse and I attempted a normal date night. We started by heading over to the Aid Station for a massage ball. Currently out of the them, we tried on a few pairs of shoes instead. After a little while, my honest and well meaning friend Jeremy asked about my injury. He held back nothing I believe, and I hope he didn't. He told me I was stupid to run that 5k, stupid to run twice the day after Holiday Lake, stupid to amp my miles up so early when Western States was still so far out. What may sound harsh was actually the brutal honesty I needed. I needed to realize that I had been stupid, made stupid choices when I was in control, but that I didn't need to continue being stupid. Funny as it may sound, the more Jeremy pointed out how poor my choices had been the better I felt. Micah Jackson was there and the two of them told many a cautionary tale of runners who were broken, many making stupid choices similar to mine, wanting like me to ignore the whispers of a needed break. They both shared advice that I instantly put in the ' advice from ultra-runners I look up to' folder in my brain. The story writes itself it you will allow it.  

Here I sit, day six. I am still in pain but I am taking back control. I am going to rest this leg, seek help for the pain and advice for it's recovery. I am going to eat better. I am going to be smarter, but I may need the help, the quick slap every now and then when I made a stupid choice or an avalanche of them. Todd does his best to steer me but being my spouse his advice sometimes comes through cloudy. I am taking today for rest, and maybe tomorrow and the next day. I am so deep in appreciation of the sound advice and honest concern for my recovery and I know I owe the legs the break they have been asking for. I've not been running, but the simplest of all things was made clearer with a week off. I am a runner but it doesn't matter what you are, sometimes you need time off from being what you are so that you can be better at it.

This break has already done a few things for me. It's made me realize I couldn't keep up at the pace that I was going and make it to Western States. If I really want to make it to California I need to go about it a different way. I have realized I have some really great friends, both running and not, and I am always growing in appreciation, there is comfort in your words, now is a time of great need for comfort. Thank you, dear friends. I realized that you can't make every run, almost ridiculously this is hard for me, but I need to keep perspective, tomorrow there will be another run. My fear of missing out and fear of failure are fears I need to add to the lengthy list of things that will only hold me back. The final realization, I still have so much to learn but I am a runner.

And I will see you on the mountain again.

-Alexis