Running Chick

Running used to be such a great pleasure to me, but it's not anymore. It's become some sort of cruel lesson in pain management.

I'm tired of taking time off to rest. I'm tired of having to continually cut my schedule and my runs short. I'm tired of trying to figure how out I can cross-train enough to maintain my endurance. I'm tired of researching. I'm tired of tweaking. I'm tired of trying this and that and everything else. I'm tired of being consumed by it. Nothing is working.

Mentally, I just don't have it anymore.

And I think up until now I've been in denial.

Maybe if I cut my schedule back from four runs/week to three runs/week, I'll be better.

It's not.

Maybe if I cut my schedule back from three runs/week to two runs/week, I'll be better.

It's not.

Maybe if I don't run at all, it'll be better.

That's the reality that came crashing down on my head during my five mile run this afternoon. Only it didn't turn out to be five, it only turned out to be 3.5 because I just couldn't go any farther. I stopped and stood there feeling defeated and feeling like crying.

This injury. It's like a toothache that never goes away. Sometimes you can ignore it, other times you know it's there, but you can deal with it. And then, after a while, after it's gnawed it's way through the mental barrier you put up to protect against it, you just can't deal anymore and you feel like taking a pair of pliers and yanking the tooth out yourself.

Running is now all about pain. Fear. Anxiety. Confusion. Anger. Frustration. Dread.

I'm a tough chick. I can take a lot of pain and I can withstand a lot of mental challenges.

But this injury. It's broken me.