Between Valleys and Peaks

Have you ever had the flu or a cold and missed so desperately the ability to breath through your nose? Just hoping to wake up tomorrow and feel good, no headaches or fever? For the past almost two months I have just so severely missed the ability to run comfortably without pain. Dreaming that the next run would be accompanied by relief, result in real enjoyment. Instead, solo runs were spent convincing myself to take another step, yet easy and cautiously. Group runs were spent aching for what others were doing so effortlessly, praying that the tightness would slacken in that weak and angry calf, that some day I would in fact feel good again.

The week before Terrapin I could sense the pain was departing though the leg lacked quite a bit of strength. Then the week after Terrapin I got sick, this along with my new approach on recovery and rest, forced me to take the whole week off with the exception of a slow run with the Wednesday group where everyone was up for a pedestrian's pace.

Saturday, squeezed between Easter egg hunts and family dinner plans, I ran solo at Candler's. The entire run my leg felt good. I kept the run short and ran a recovery pace but it was the first run in six weeks that didn't require a long warm-up or result in muscle cramping or tightness. It was like the world's best gift.

Yesterday, a group met at Candler's. Mike Donahue, one of our original weekly Wednesday night participants, was in town and had arranged a trail run. A large group took off out Panama from the parking lot and before I even realized it and without consideration I was running fast. When the heart began to suggest that the pace was one I wasn't really trained for I offered the compromise that I would only continue that sprightly pace until we reached the camp.

There was a great deal of rapture wound up in this run, in the fact that I was able to run among the friends I've longed to run with over my injury. That I was, in the simplest definition, just running. My legs felt fine, they carried me well. I was grateful for the chance to play in the woods, to play chase, run unfamiliar trails. I knew a mile in that I was having the best run of the past several weeks, but miles later when we began to visit more hilly sections I felt a solid strength that has just been absent from my runs for far too long. I was running hills. Have I told you lately that I love hills? I may not be great at them but they empower me, they force all of my being to compile our strength and work together. There's accomplishment awaiting every hill I run, a certain satisfaction that fuels me, nourishes the desire to feel strong, powerful, healthy.

Running up Peak to Peak my calves were working hard to get me to the top. There was a pain, but it wasn't the crippling, fear drawing kind but rather the kind that suggests weakness being pushed aside to make room for strength to come. For someone who suffers at times from a severe self-confidence deficit there was great reward in feeling simply capable.

I know I must remain cautious, that I could very easily go out and do something stupid and end up all too soon on the injured list once more, but yesterday, I felt like my old self a little. I felt at home.

-Alexis