Children love building
towers of blocks. Some of them enjoy looking at them for a couple of
seconds and then swiftly knocking them over. They find that
hilarious. The power to construct something only to tear it down
makes them drunk with excitement. As they get older, they start
wanting to save what they've created. Savour it. Show everyone,
beaming with pride.
By the time kids grow
up to become adults, most of them have gotten over the phase when
knocking things over is fun. The rest of them? They become demolition men
or the main income source for the local shrink. Some of them become
runners. I guess.
See, when you are a
runner with a long history of injuries and you finally get a
long injury-free streak, you don't think ”Hey, maybe I
should cherish this injury-free streak and not do anything stupid”.
You don't think ”I spent months getting to the great shape I am in
today, maybe I should just be happy I am able to run without pain
regularly”. No no no. You think ”Gee, I wonder what would happen if I took
this here hand and swatted at this great tower of blocks. What if I ran 100K?”
And that's what I did.
I took a big swing at my poor old defenseless tower of blocks. Good
thing I am a runner and not the main income source for the local
shrink or I'd be seriously broke and/or in jail.
Unlike the child that
never grew up to appreciate the work it took to build the tower of
blocks, I found no joy in destroying what I had built. I had
succeeded in my goal to run 100km, yes. But now I was injured again.
And that's no fun!
My chiropractor set my
foot bones back in their right place and the pain faded away. Only to
be replaced by pain in my hip instead.
I took all this in my
stride. I rested for 3 weeks. I found new hobbies. Strangely
coinciding with the fact that I had decided to work part-time and
have Thursdays off, an avalanche of new extracurricular responsibilities landed on my lap to fill this new void in my life. Weekends were busy with family
and friends, both old and new. I didn't miss running.
What scared me most
about this was how it wasn't scary at all. I was okay with reading
for hours on end. I felt great working on a crocheted
throw. I had a blast going to the movies and trying to stop myself
from eating all the popcorn before the film started. And I guess it
was kind of entertaining trying to stave off that drunk guy who said my
hair looked like ”falling stars” at the bar the other night. He
wasn't referring to hair loss. I think.
All of this was great.
This was who I was. A creative woman who loves reading and watching
films. I had time to pursue my hobbies, hobbies that I had neglected
what with spending all my free time either running or too tired to move.
But...
But there was one
crucial puzzle piece missing. I did not feel entirely like
myself. I grew increasingly restless. My body was stiff and ached,
suddenly in a state of disrepair and neglect. My thought patterns
were altered. For example, I briefly considered switching to shorter
distances next running season. Fortunately, this was only a momentary
lapse of sanity and not, like I feared at first, the result of a forgotten blow to the head from the fall I took in the woods a few months
ago.
I started jogging again. Apprehensive and loathing running because it held the possibility that my hip would act up, I
tentatively began building a new tower of blocks. The first couple of
blocks kept tumbling down but I didn't give up. After a few days,
they stuck. So I added some more. And then some more. I am up to
running 10 km with no more than a niggle in my hip and currently
content with the way my tower is shaping up. I do not intend to knock
anything over in the foreseeable future, even though I do wish I had
more time to devote to my other hobbies. This running lark is taking
up so much of my free time already.