Missing the high: Are my running days over?

I have not run in over four months.

My last run was on the evening of November 27. I don’t remember much about it, but according to my running diary, I ran for 34.19 minutes starting at 5 p.m. I ran along Washington, Green Mountain, and First Avenue. I wore my pair of Ghost 9s. The sky was partly cloudy and the temperature was in the mid-50s. Though my run before had been “another bad one,” the run on the 27th “was another dream. It was smooth and easy, enjoyable. My pace was slow and steady, manageable.”

The thing I do remember, the thing that stands out, the thing I can’t forget, is the sunset. It was one of the top five most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. While walking past Bates Field before running, I paused to admire the western sky. Though the sun had set, the horizon glowed. The clouds streaking the sky were colored yellow, orange, red, and purple.

Little did I know then, as I stood in awe and wished I had my phone to take a picture, that that sunset could double as a colorful end to my enjoyable (yet checkered) running career. Less than a week after that 34-minute run, I could barely walk because of the pain in my ass.

“My left hip has been bothering me a lot lately,” I wrote in my running journal, “so I may take four or five days off before I run again.”

Four or five days. Ha!

At one of my last physical therapy appointments, my physical therapist said something along the lines of, “We’ll get this solved so you can start running again.” I raised my hands in objection. “Nope,” I said. “I’m done running.”

Am I? Are my running days over? Was that run on November 27 my last?

Maybe.

When recovering from past overuse injuries, my goal was to return to health and start running again. All I could think about was lacing up my Brooks and pounding the pavement. This time, I did not think about running once; all I wanted to do was walk, sit, and lie without pain. I easily resigned myself to the fact that running was partly to blame for my pain in the ass. The tilted pelvis, the super tight muscles, the crushed nerves—all were caused or made worse by my peaceful, meditative runs through Iowa City’s east side. If I want to avoid the crippling pain in my back, butt, and leg in the future, I told myself, I need to stop running.

When I was unable to do anything comfortably, I resolved to make 2018 the year of strengthening and stretching. Also, it would be the year without running. Increased strength and flexibility are two things that would be very beneficial for me, especially flexibility. I’m working on both, but now that I’m much better, no longer having symptoms, and am increasing my level of activity (it feels so good to sweat again!), I’m starting to rethink my running ban.

Though I did not miss running when I was in constant pain earlier this year, I am starting to miss it now. I can feel the void that was occupied by running for over a decade.

I miss the peace, the meditative calm, and the balance it brought to my life. I miss being outside and all the free Vitamin D. I miss the light rains, the early nights, and wearing layers during the winter. While I don’t miss the ice or snow, the impatient and seemingly blind motorists, or constantly washing shorts and shirts, I miss cooling down after a steady, easy, smooth run. I miss the satisfaction of sweating, dominating hills, and meeting goals. I miss the high, something I have been unable to achieve by either walking or cycling.

However, I don’t miss the paralyzing pain I felt throughout December. I don’t miss being unable to sit or sleep. While running may not have been the single cause of my pain in the ass, it was probably a contributing factor, and I need to avoid it for a while longer, no matter how much I miss it.

Runners passed me while I walked the trails of Hickory Hill yesterday. Some looked like they had been running all winter, while others looked like they were running outside for the first time all year. (They were struggling. Running on a treadmill is not the same.) Was I jealous? Yes. I loved running through Hickory Hill. However, as much as I miss running, it is better for me to take it slow and let everyone pass me.

At least for now.