Running Gets ‘The Boot’

So here I am, five months out from my initial injury and we’ve just learned I have a stress fracture. With that said, I will be wearing the gorgeous Prada boot featured below for one month.

The first few days of wearing this beast felt like the end of the world. Maybe I’m dramatic, but that’s how it felt. We were waiting for Spencer’s melanoma removal biopsy results and this was the last straw. More than one person actually said, “Man, y’all can’t catch a break, can you?”

My dietician, who also happens to be a genius and our family hero, says, “Your body will take care of itself. It will also slow you down when it needs to.”

Well, I guess it really needed to, because it did more than slow me down. I’m flat stopped! While I’ve been swimming throughout my injury, my podiatrist asked me to give my foot muscles a break while I’m in this boot. Fantastic. I deal really well with limited outlets – not only is it a pain to go anywhere because this is also my driving foot, but I can’t even exercise. Unless it’s with a hand bike, but I’m not that desperate, so no thanks!

Therefore, I’m taking a month off and facing the facts. Below are a few:

1. I’ve secretly been planning my running comeback with a second lottery entry to the New York City Marathon, this time for 2015.

2. I somehow believe this is where/when all my dreams will come true.

3. In reality, I may not be able to run again.

4. Running definitely became an idol somewhere between the 2012 Turkey Trot and last week.

5. I am not a gym person. I only joined for the childcare, which I may not be crazy about.

6. I don’t want to fit my life around a training schedule (this also includes a shower schedule, since I’m weird about going outside after I’ve showered for the day).

7. My value doesn’t rest in accomplishment.

8. I’ve ever-so-slightly allowed a few eating disorder behaviors to creep back into my daily repertoire.

9. I will be just fine without running. After all, I took off a decade before the post-Brooks kick and I puttered along dandily.

And funnily enough, here I am, a mere eight days out from my Cinderella boot ceremony and I find myself grateful that this all happened. In reality I’ve been obsessed with getting back to what I’d convinced myself was the only thing that could make me feel good, the only thing I could call my own. As far as treating my injury, I’ve tried it all, read it all and worn it all to no avail, so here I sit finally accepting that God has been at work all along. Only now can I see that he was trying to get my attention. Or at least pose the question, “Are you sure you want to lose these precious years to wearing out your body for a picture or a medal that will only wear out?”

I’ve made my decision.

It’s: Nope. I love to walk and hike and bike and those are things I can enjoy with my children. I have the rest of my life to run, but I hereby choose my family over what I want. I guess this is what dying to self feels like, that bizarre freedom that comes with laying down our lives.

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