I haven’t been running a lot. I’m injured, I’m tired, I’m taking my time. Following instructions. Trying not too read too many running blogs.
I broke down in a little ball on my terrace just once. I cried like a crazy person and claimed that this was like losing someone you love. Not being able to run hurt just as much, and in that similar no-one-can-understand-this-pain-sort-of-way that a broken heart does.
However, the tragedy was short lived since the doctor told me I could do some short runs. (I almost hugged him, but then he said, "until we see the xrays, at least" and then I sighed inside.) Oh but those few short runs have been fantastic, I haven’t been able to stop smiling. Just grateful for each step.I won't be running my A race, the Empúries half this weekend, but this fall I will run faster, better halves than ever before. I'm dealing with this hip head-on: strength training and eating better, resting and stretching. Running is about daily practice, a way of life for the rest of my life. Slowly but surely.
Last Thursday I headed out quite late, around 10:30 pm, and as I ran past the corner store at the top of the little hill on Carrer Lledò, my biggest fan, a young shop clerk, was just pulling the heavy metal shutter down, finally closing up for the night.
“Glad to see you,” he said, his face slowing opening up into a full grin. “I was worried.”
And with that I cried the last few hundred yards home.