First things first, I hope everyone recognized the reference to The Hobbit. J. R. R. Tolkien is a literary wizard, and I am strongly of the opinion that there is a Tolkien quote for every situation. Many of my college bonds have been formed as a result of a mutual affection for Middle Earth (Perhaps most significantly, my first true college friendship and the realest human being I've ever known, Andre the Great Vandini, freshmen chem lab partner extraordinaire, slayer of snakes, and Twin Tuesday partner for life whose friendship with me can be marked with the response, "When we look back on college and remember when exactly we became friends, this is it" to a tweet of mine about watching LOTR to get through treadmill runs). Team Tolkien nights are a bonding experience that I would definitely recommend.
So, now that I've distracted myself with my own blog title and gone off on a complete tangent, please allow me to get to the actual point of this post. Guys...I'm running again! On dry land! With extreme supervision from Sonia to ensure that I don't get over-eager and misbehave and take off sprinting at five minute mile pace until my heart explodes and I drop dead in the training room! I did my first run outside of the underwater treadmill since early December last Tuesday, and they were the most wobbly and wonderful three miles I've ever run. If I were to paint a word picture for you all to imagine how I looked, I would have to describe the scene as Sonia looking on in half-amusement, half-horror, as I weaved back and forth over the midline of the treadmill because I was too excited and too busy grinning like a sociopathic baby deer learning how to walk while simultaneously trying to convince a panel of my peers that I had a full range of human emotions by refusing to wipe the creepy smile off my face to care about silly things like running in a straight line. Three delicious, pain-free miles with no throbbing in my back afterwards and no protestations from my body. And what's more, between dry land miles and underwater miles, I was over halfway back to my normal weekly mileage (eighty miles a week) as of last week, AND Sonia has me running faster on the underwater treadmill than I ever did pre-injury. Based on my progression right now, I could potentially be racing again by the end of March, although I'm still intending to take this season as a redshirt so I don't feel pressured to rush into anything too fast and risk getting re-inured.
Another big step took place this week in the form of me running outside for the first time in three months. (!!!!!) I decided to visit Bozeman for spring break to catch up with some old friends and teammates, so I got to do my first run back in the open air on the first route I ever ran as a collegiate athlete. Never again will I take for granted the ability to spit freely and remove your shirt on a run. In my months confined to the training room, I forgot just how liberating being outside was. Once again, passersby most likely thought I was an escaped convict based on my overeager grin and the fact that I was bolting through the streets like I was running from the law. It's very fortunate that I was given a strict set of paces for this week, because otherwise I think I would've run the first ever female sub-four mile for my first outside mile then immediately dropped dead on the spot. It would also seem that the state of Montana is still a little bitter about my abandonment because the two years I lived here, I never once slipped or fell on a run, and on my second run here after being back in the state for just over twenty-four hours, I hit a patch of ice and wiped out hard. I guess that's what I get for being overconfident and declaring myself the indestructible queen of winter.
It's been a little strange this week and last, celebrating benchmarks like running five miles at eight minute pace or running over forty miles in a week, when this time last year training for my first season as a true distance athlete specializing in the 10k was in full swing and I was running several workouts and seventy miles a week. Almost exactly one year ago, I was running my first official 10k workout which consisted of eight miles of tempo work (4, 2, 1, 1 mile repeats) and wondering how on earth I was going to survive this season. It's also definitely not easy seeing competitors that I ran with all through the cross season toeing the line at nationals this weekend, but I realize that isn't something I can change for myself so there is no point in stressing myself thinking of all the "if only" scenarios that could've been if I hadn't gotten injured. The important thing is that I am on a path to a place that is better than where I started pre-injury, and I didn't lose anything in the process. (Based on my first run back outside, I actually gained from this experience both physically, mentally, and emotionally). More than anything, when the what-ifs try to start cropping up, I just remind myself that I am HAPPY now and I have re-discovered the pure, untainted joy for running. I have officially made it through this injury and come out the other side better for it.
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