I knew the morning would come, when I would stumble into my running clothes and then out my door. I always just start running the second I pull the door closed behind me….no turning back at this point. I always look up at the stars second. I have a thing for the twinkling mystery and allure of anything is possible that I get when I look up. They also, for just a moment, make me feel back at home in Montana when you can look up and see more stars than could ever be counted stretching across a black vastness as deep as any dream could possibly fill.
It’s been a year and a half since I injured myself, literally having a “pain in the ass” that wouldn’t go away. I described my excrutiating pain to a friend and in a matter of fact tone told me it was my Piriformis. I couldn’t even say the word for probably the first six months, nor did I even want to. I believe that when you talk about “having” something you give it power to continue to be something that you “have” and I didn’t “have” anything….other than this pain that now woke me up at night, changed how I walked, made it so driving was almost unbearable, and running was agonizing from start to finish.
I, however, had classic distance runner syndrome, push-on-at-all-cost…..until I couldn’t. I knew I was going to have to figure this thing out, and make some difficult changes. I had started seeing a chiropractor at this point and was not really running at all. I had gotten a bike and I could bike for a while without too much pain, so at least I could move.
I think for us “runners” it is about the run of course, but I wonder if it isn’t even more important for us to just move, to be outside, to be with nature, the sounds, the wind, the sunshine, all by the power of our own minds and bodies…..
I was lucky enough to be pointed in the direction of Tri-Covery.
A place who was willing to hear my story of why I thought I was hurt, honor my “toughness” to try and keep pushing through, listen to my sadness about not being able to do what I love, what makes me whole, and then roll up their sleeves and begin taking me down the path towards healing. The therapist Steve, that I work with is everything I could have hoped for. He listens to me try to explain this unexplainable hurt, I can see him thinking and making a plan, he listens to my constant chat about my adorable daughter, he knows about the students I teach, he knows about some of the sorrows in my life, and he has a hand in some of the reasons for my joys! He refuses to give up on healing me and so we have a partnership. I work hard for him both when we’re together and when I’m doing my own healing during the week. He is vested in me, works with my schedule, and I became the student who didn’t want to disappoint. I wanted to hold up my end of the healing too.
I’m a diligent stretcher now and I listen to my body even more closely than ever before. When I run, I still don’t often wear a watch and I just run because I can. I want to be my own best, and for those around me I want to be their biggest fan who makes their most glittery sign. I don’t want to compare myself or be compared. Because each day I feel myself getting a little better, the excrutiating has became pain, has become nagging, has become tender, has become ok …..
And so……my morning came, I shut the door, I looked up at the stars and it wasn’t until a half mile later that I realized I didn’t hurt. I stopped, I really looked up, and I started to cry. It’s not everyday in life that we get to wash ourselves in uncontrollable tears of joy. Life’s tears are too often sorrowful, and life knows that I’ve cried my share of those, but this morning was different. This morning I was washed in tears of determination to get better, to heal, because I knew I would, Steve knew I would, we never gave up hope. I cried for the sacrifices that only now seemed worth while on my way to recovery. I cried because I had slowed down, and by slowing down my runs just took a bit longer and gave me all that much more time to look around. I cried because I feel like my injury kept me away from friends, but then I’ve also enjoyed new friends and new routes I may not have ever tried. And I cried in gratitude of Tri-Covery’s Steve and for his gift that he shared with me, that has helped me get back to me. Thank you.
Groovy Girls Go ….. Washed in Joyful Tears That Come From Healing