By "rest," I mean that I started, once again, my Hundred Push-Ups app, increased how many times each week I did yoga, and finally got the bike tuned up (more on that in a future post).
To say I was frustrated is an understatement. While I do enjoy a good downward dog, I feel like I NEED running. It's some of the only time I have to myself each week, when I am free to listen to the music I want to listen to, to think without being interrupted by a small voice calling "Mom" fifty times, and not worry about anyone else but myself (and Zooey, but she's pretty low maintenance). Giving up that precious time to heal was….difficult.
So, when my friend Christie asked me if I'd run the Run for Ryan House 10K with her again this year, I jumped at it.
Without obviously doing any math to see how many weeks I would have to start training my way up to 6 miles again.
January was about healing from shin splints.
February is about getting over the fear of hurting myself again.
I am the tortoise.
Fear is the hare.
And right now he's out in front.
I've been running two miles twice a week on weekdays and then slowly working up my mileage. But the miles have been a bit slow, and I've been… tentative.
Zooey basically rolled her eyes at me Saturday morning when I told her that we needed to go slowly and pace ourselves.
Have you ever had a coonhound roll her eyes at you because you're slow? #embarrassing
I've taken to wearing Sheldon up there fairly regularly as a reminder that regardless of my speed, I'm moving forward. Forward movement means that, eventually, fear will be overtaken.
But in order for me to remain out front, I have to be conscious of the fact that it's there, and I must avoid becoming complacent about where I am regarding my health. I don't want to usher in another new year with champagne and shin splints.
I am the tortoise.