The Country Music Marathon and Half Marathon was today and for only the second time since the race's reincarnation more than a decade ago, I didn't run it. This time last year, I gutted out the half marathon when I probably shouldn't have run it. This year, I wasn't in anywhere near the shape I need to be in to run a half marathon, so I decided to sit the race out.
And in arriving at that decision, I felt really sad.
Since Joe was born in February 2012, I've had a difficult time striking a balance between work, family and running. I never anticipated how much less time would be available when Jude and I had our second child.
(Editor's Note - I am not in complainting about having two children. Jude and I have been blessed beyond hope and belief to have two active, healthy boys. Our lives would seem empty without them).
I don't play golf. I don't bowl in a league. I retired from city league softball after J.P. was born. What I do, though, is run. Or at least that's what I used to do. Now, I'm lucky to get 1 or 2 runs in a week, usually a quick 3 miles sometime after 9 p.m., after the boys are down for the night. I'm lucky to get 10 miles in for an entire week. 10 miles used to be a Saturday morning long run for me (those were the days).
I used to routinely run 20 miles a week, minimum. I've run 1000 miles in a year twice, once after J.P. was born. I used to race, a lot. I used to run the trails at Shelby Bottoms, the Bryant Grove Trail in Lebanon, the Bicentennial Trail in Ashland City and the horse trails at Percy Warner Park. I used to run in the heat, in the cold and in the rain. Now, not so much.
Last December, Joe got RSV and wasn't sleeping well. In fact, he wasn't sleeping in his crib much at all. He would, however, sleep in his stroller (God Bless the Baby Jogger City Elite). One night about 3 a.m., as I was struggling to carry the stroller upstairs, half asleep, I hurt my low back. I didn't realize it at the time, but for the next two weeks, I was in a great deal of pain. I didn't sleep much and it was hard to get around.
I have a history of low back pain, but I hadn't dealt with anything like this since I was in college. I stopped running and hoped it would pass. The pain lessened but it never disappeared completely. I've been able to run occasionally, but not with any frequency. I realize I should have gone to the doctor but, in truth, I've been afraid of what he would tell me.
Lately, I've had hip pain on my right side, worse after I run. That's been discouraging, as well. In truth, I haven't reallly felt right for the past 4-5 months. I vascillate between a feeling of resignation - this is what happens to your body as you get older (aches, pains), so deal with it - and a feeling that something more serious is going on. I'm to the point now, finally, where I want and need to know what I'm dealing with, so I'm scdeduled to see a neurosurgeon I know in a week or so. I just want to feel like myself again, from a physical standpoint.
Running has been such an important part of my life for so long. It's part of my identity, part of who I am. It's just something I do, for me. I take pride in it (maybe too much so), mabye to the point of vanity. Running keeps me sane. It makes me feel good about myself. It give me self-confidence and makes me feel younger than I am. It changes my outlook - and not in a good way - when I can't run. I've never had a stretch like this where I wasn't running regularly - not in the 20 + years I have been a serious runner. And it's absolutely killing me.
It's hard for me to explain to people who aren't avid runners. And it's hard for people who aren't avid runners to understand. When I'm not able to run, I feel like something has been taken away from me. Something I need to survive and thrive. I need to run.
I realize I'm feeling sorry for myself today (and lately), as it relates to my failure to run regularly. If I can feel better, I can run late at night or, in the alternative, I can get up at 5 a.m. and run in the mornings. Plenty of runners do that and there's not reason I can't do it, too. For me, usually, it's about getting the miles in, stacking them up, 1 mile at a time. 1 run at a time. I've got to get back to it. I have to.
Last December, Joe got RSV and wasn't sleeping well. In fact, he wasn't sleeping in his crib much at all. He would, however, sleep in his stroller (God Bless the Baby Jogger City Elite). One night about 3 a.m., as I was struggling to carry the stroller upstairs, half asleep, I hurt my low back. I didn't realize it at the time, but for the next two weeks, I was in a great deal of pain. I didn't sleep much and it was hard to get around.
I have a history of low back pain, but I hadn't dealt with anything like this since I was in college. I stopped running and hoped it would pass. The pain lessened but it never disappeared completely. I've been able to run occasionally, but not with any frequency. I realize I should have gone to the doctor but, in truth, I've been afraid of what he would tell me.
Lately, I've had hip pain on my right side, worse after I run. That's been discouraging, as well. In truth, I haven't reallly felt right for the past 4-5 months. I vascillate between a feeling of resignation - this is what happens to your body as you get older (aches, pains), so deal with it - and a feeling that something more serious is going on. I'm to the point now, finally, where I want and need to know what I'm dealing with, so I'm scdeduled to see a neurosurgeon I know in a week or so. I just want to feel like myself again, from a physical standpoint.
Running has been such an important part of my life for so long. It's part of my identity, part of who I am. It's just something I do, for me. I take pride in it (maybe too much so), mabye to the point of vanity. Running keeps me sane. It makes me feel good about myself. It give me self-confidence and makes me feel younger than I am. It changes my outlook - and not in a good way - when I can't run. I've never had a stretch like this where I wasn't running regularly - not in the 20 + years I have been a serious runner. And it's absolutely killing me.
It's hard for me to explain to people who aren't avid runners. And it's hard for people who aren't avid runners to understand. When I'm not able to run, I feel like something has been taken away from me. Something I need to survive and thrive. I need to run.
I realize I'm feeling sorry for myself today (and lately), as it relates to my failure to run regularly. If I can feel better, I can run late at night or, in the alternative, I can get up at 5 a.m. and run in the mornings. Plenty of runners do that and there's not reason I can't do it, too. For me, usually, it's about getting the miles in, stacking them up, 1 mile at a time. 1 run at a time. I've got to get back to it. I have to.
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