Back to Black

I am not so sure where I wanted to go with this post. I started out going in one direction, but towards the end, realized it was not where I thought it would go. So I am going to try this again. Please hang with me, for the road may veer left and right, but hopefully will run straight.

I went for a run on Monday. I knew going into it that my back was already sore. Monday's tend to go that way - I have a meeting every Monday really far from my house, which requires tons of driving and hours of sitting, so all of that together equals bad back.

When I got home that afternoon, I knew I had to go (especially since I ate a box of Mike nI kes for breakfast....and lunch), so I got dressed, grabbed the IPod and off I went.

The first thing I noticed was how amazing I felt. And I mean immediately. I could breathe (so long, lung infection!) It sounds stupid, but it is crazy how a little thing like being able to breathe will make a run that much better.

But I stareted out good - I paced well, didn't go to crazy, and was only going out for 30 minutes. I even set my IPod to the Slow Song Playlist (you have one, you know what I'm talking about - great for the random or drawn-out break-ups, rainy Friday nights working from home, or whenever you just need a good cry...or so I've heard...ummm..moving on...) And I did it intentionally so that I would not go balls-out crazy on what should have been an "easy" run.

And then,

there was the turnaround.

I took off. I felt like I was flying. Like I had little wings I my shoes, I did. I was even listening to "The Show Goes On" by Bruce Hornsby, which is slow and sad and makes me cry every time regardless of where I am or what I am doing, but there I was flying down the beach path, barely sweating, steady breathing, and lip syncing at the top of my lungs.

I knew, as I passed the children's park, the rocks, the beach house, that on this run, something was different. Something was pushing me from behind, cushioning my steps, pumping strength into my legs.

Or maybe this ability to fly came from the sensation of a weight lifted. The ability to run and to literally leave it all out there, to fly almost without effort, because finally, after a very long time, I felt healthy, inside and out. I felt the power of being healed, inside and out. I felt the absence of toxicity and anger, which I watched fall into the sand and then stamped out by my Adidas.

I need to stop for a second and note that this is not ordinary. I have NEVER been one of those runner's that will say, "I get so lost in my thoughts I don't even remember running" or "I love to just meditate when I run, and just end up at the end without knowing it."

I dislike those runners.

Fine, whatever, I am jealous of those runners.

'Cause make no mistake - I not only remember my runs, I often rue them. In fact, many runs (especially these first ones back in training) more often than not feel like the death grip of Mortality's Hand around my lungs, like my mom's around a wine bottle, while my heart rate immediately skyrockets like my sister with a new American Express at an Anthropologie sale. Yeah, like that.

So to have a run that you truly only read about on the last page of Runner's World was pretty cool. I hate those last page stories, btw. I really just want someone to say, "Yeah, I hate running. In fact, I only run so I can eat the 5-pound bag of M n M's my wife picked up at Costco last week, and washed down with the six-pack I keep hidden in the garage and drink when she thinks I'm mowing the lawn." Or even better, "Running's was never really my thing, until I noticed the 26-year-old soccer mom with a 23-inch waist, D-cup, and a husband that travels who moved three blocks down, so now I run past her house twice a day, and I've never felt better! It's a Win-Win!"

But yeah, you never read that.

Anyhoo, let me make my way back to the post.

So despite the 15 minutes of out-of-body-never-felt-before-who-is this-runner-girl high I got, and the day-after reflection of lifted weights and stripped-away anger (which truly I could have spoken more about but feel I have inundated you all with so much reflection lately that I am giving you a break - your welcome), I woke up this morning with this:

What the FUCK just happened to my back?

And this is more or less what I have lived with all day. I will spare you the details of the how much Ibuprofen I have taken, or how I have made my house guest give me innumerable massages, but suffice to say that holy-mother-of-all-that-is-peaceful, it hurts.

And to think, I was seriously going to go to the pool today. Really, I was. No kidding. I was THIS close to going, but dang, this back thing really got in the way....(wink)....

Oh, the pool.....I so love/hate you.

So let's see what happens tomorrow. There are a couple other factors that might also be exacerbating this back issue, and I hope to have them resolved by the morning, or at least the afternoon. I'll keep ya updated....