Today I might have violated my 10% rule in regards to running mileage increase. Get ready for it....
I ran a whopping 2 miles.
I did the same yesterday. I figure when the base you are starting out from=0.00 miles what is 10 % anyway? Today surprisingly felt a little better compared to yesterday where it felt like my pelvic hardware was jabbing my left adductor. Yesterday I also split up some of the laps, doing kettle bell throws, push-ups, and crunches in between. My PT said it would be better to break up the laps so I thought maybe I would follow some of the rules since I obviously already surpassed my 1200 meter limit.
Today however, I ran straight through. No breaks today and it even felt like I was going slightly faster than yesterday's crawl. Once I got a smooth stride going and warmed up, I started running the straightaways a little faster than the curves to get some sort of pace variation. I was embarrassed.... Embarrassed for running so slow, embarrassed for only running 2 miles, and embarrassed cuz I just felt like pretty much shi*. Especially given the fact the track I was running on was my old high school track and cross country stomping grounds. Now look at me.
Upon completion of my momentous distance, I sat on the turf on the inside of the track and cried. I'm not sure exactly why. I think I had a million emotions going through my head and that was how I dealt with them. Part of me maybe was happy for my new accomplishment, part of me was just pissed at how bad I sucked, part of me was like I said embarrassed, and part of me was just fed up and sick of being patient.
My patience is gone. I've been patient for 15 weeks. I don't think I am capable of dishing out much more. I want to get better and better NOW. Not next month, not this fall, not next year. Now.
I know I somehow must dig down deeper than ever be for and find some source of patience. My recovery journery realistically is still in the early stages. I have a long way to go. Somehow I'm praying I'll find that second wind to get me through.
Ironically, one of the things I have learned through this whole ordeal is that you should never take your health for granted. I remember my first day out of the hospital how estatic I was. Happy to be alive, happy to be out of the hospital, and happy to be back in the real world despite my wheelchair ridden state. We take so much for granted sometimes. It's funny because through these 15 weeks I have had so many good milestones: being able to swim again, bike again, getting of my crutches, and finally now being able to actually run again. It was like each one was never good enough. Once I could swim, I wanted to bike. Once I could bike, I wanted to run. Now I can run, I want to be fast.
When will I appreciate the present and stop focusing so much on the future? I really should be happy I'm alive, happy I can walk without a limp, happy that I can now swim, bike, and run. For now I should know better than anyone, count your blessings. They can be taken away in a heart beat.