I’ve been a little down these last couple of weeks. I attempted a run Monday morning and was stopped after just one block. The pain in my shins screaming at me to not take another step. This time I listen. My legs are happy with this decision, my mind is not. There is a brief argument in my head as my thoughts drift to an upcoming race; a half-marathon for which I think I may not be ready. The thoughts which scream at me to not run have won this battle. It is a good win. I walk back to my home, my right shin reminding me of this decision. I walk up the driveway, hands on my hips as if to say to a potential passerby, “Whew! What a run I just completed!” I am the only one who knows the truth. This secret is safe with me. I retreat to my porch. If anyone would have been outside and saw me sitting on my porch, my head in my hands; they would have thought something to be wrong. Not this day, not at 4:30 in the morning, for there are no passersby.
I sobbed as I admitted to myself “I had pushed my minimalist running too fast.” The result? Painful shin splints which will keep me sidelined for at least a week. Thoughts flooded my head. What have I done wrong? I’ve had many good runs in minimalist shoes. Did I push too far, too fast? Thoughts continued to race. Should I keep my photography business open? Referrals are down and couples want the best package for next to nothing. I am tired! Emotionally drained.
I no longer desire to work 12-hour days. The days feel disjointed. I feel like I’m piecing together a 1000-piece puzzle. Everyday! I go to the sanctuary of my bed at night, reach for a book and read. The alarm sounds again at 4:30 AM. I sit on the edge of my bed contemplating another 90-minutes of sleep, run or lament the fact I cannot run right now. I rise and take a couple of tentative steps. My shin hurts. It screams at me to not run. I reach for the blinds and peer out the window. I relish the opportunity to be outdoors if even for a few minutes to enjoy the peace and solitude. I hobble down the stairs; my leg reminding me why I am not running, allowing me to feel twenty years older than I am. I make a cup of coffee, grab my fountain pen and journal and retreat to the humid air outside.
As I sit on the porch, my breathe comes with ease. The walls gone, unable to close in. I empty my fountain pen and fill the empty pages of my journal…thoughts pouring from my mind like water from a faucet left fully open. As my mind empties clarity follows.
I cap my fountain pen and close the pages of my journal on still damp ink. I gaze East and see the beginnings of what will be a beautiful sunrise. The rays of sun tickels the tops of the trees and filters through the humidity hanging in the air. I smile. I am at peace.
For now…everything is right with the world.