182 Days
Half a year without flight
It’s been 6 months since I’ve run
To be honest, I thought I’d go insane.
And I wasn’t the only one.
My wife was terrified.
In the early days, when we realized it was serious, I could see the terror in her eyes. Her fear was justified. If her husband couldn’t run, would he turn into an emotional monster?
It may sound absurd to non-runners, but we know it’s true.
Absent the outlet that I’ve relied on for many years to make the most of each day and keep myself sane, I was seriously concerned that I’d be reduced to a mess.
And I’m not going to sugar coat, it’s been awful.
But, to my surprise, I’m alright.
I’m not GREAT. I’m not my very best. It’s been half a year since I’ve gotten to start each day feeling the sense of flight that affords me perspective and optimism.
But I am okay.
And I’ve learned.
Despite my indignance, having had to navigate the pain and frustration of the past six months has probably made me a better person.
It’s the worst. But half a year has allowed me to step back from my favorite thing to see it for what it is, and what it’s not.
Not running is horrible.
It’s a no good horrible thing.
But, just because running affords physical exercise, and spiritual exploration, and social connection, and life-affirming direction for each day, that doesn’t mean it’s the only way toward a wonderful life.
That’s what I’ve been forced to face the past 6 months.
It’s possible to explore the world affixed to the ground.
It’s possible to truly push yourself without any impact at all.
And it’s possible to connect with friends, to find time to understand one another deeply, without covering even one mile.
Though all of those things are completed most efficiently on a run, that’s not the only way to live a wonderful day.
This is what I learned from 182 days without my favorite feeling of flight.
That this beautiful world still continues to turn.
And more importantly, I can show up in it even without a foundational piece of my personality.
So, if you’re struggling with pain and injury, I challenge you to take a step back.
First, feel free to scream into the void.
And then, move forward gently, with eyes open to the beauty that is afforded in each day.
Take care friends,
P
I made this piece into a reel using the images I’ve captured while not running over the past half year.
I loved how concisely and lyrically you expressed your running hiatus. I feel for you; I went three months last November - January with no running due to a partial tendon tear. Now that I'm in peak training for Hardrock (!), which has been challenging due to the injury comeback, I'm in a grass-is-greener on the other side of the race date POV, when I'm looking forward to the liberation of less running and a less structure to my training after July 12. I plan to engage more in other sports (riding horse and bike, golf) and then have a true ski season rather than prioritizing running in the winter months. When I was injured, I read more books and did more yoga and upper-body strength work, not a bad thing. I'm glad you found connection with friends and other positive experiences during this challenging period. Recover well and get stoked about a comeback! Life goes in cycles like this.
60 days so far for me. Learning to love lap swimming, thanks to your nudge. Grateful for hot yoga, weight workouts and long walks. The world keeps spinning and running is still with me, if not in the form of strides on pavement. Onward, Peter!