My brother nearly died of heat stroke when he was a skinny little red-headed kid. None of us could ever handle the heat very well. And we lived awhile in the Tropics, where our lack of heat managing capabilities were obvious.
We were the beet-red kids on the playground. The ones who sweat quickly and often. Heavy exertion must be followed by heavy naps for us.
And so, I shouldn’t have been surprised today when my Dr. called off my distance running career. He did. This tendency toward dehydration + my typically low blood pressure + surgical history x long runs has developed a problem within my GI system that is dangerous if it goes on, and completely reversible if I just stop with the endurance sports.
I’m really more of a strength and sprinting girl, it turns out.
And though I’m trying to be light about this, the truth is, I’m writing with a lump in my throat.
This lump doesn’t make any sense.
I have been running for less than a year, not my whole life. I don’t make a career of it.
Okay, so there’s the half-marathon coming up. I’ll take off early, and walk it, crossing the line with my buddies by jogging just at the end, and with plenty of pepper left to carry them home if I have to.
And then, I wasn’t planning any more long runs. I was planning, in fact, to head back to the pool, the gym for the fall and winter.
So why am I so sad?
I suppose some little part of me imagined one day becoming one of those 70-year-old Boston Marathon competitors you read about. I imagined myself into a triathelon next year. And I like the shoes. I like the gear. I like race events. I like wearing the gear knowing I earned the right to it honestly. I really, really liked finishing a 12-mile run.
But my body is speaking. And it’s saying it wants to do something else.
So there it is. I have no choice but to give it what it really needs and not what my ego thinks it should have.
This is a come down. I have to say. Humbling.
I’ve already had two large helpings of corn chips over this. But at least they were organic corn chips made with non-hydrogenated oil. That’s something. They didn’t help the lump in my throat one little bit, I notice. Typing helps a little.
A warm bath will help more.
Well, okay, friends. This road to fitness has potholes. And if you can’t miss them, you take a few bumps. That’s all. I’m feeling bumped. It’s no big deal. I’ve been bumped before. I will work through this and find the next thing. And I’ll enjoy the next thing too. I’m quite sure of it. I’m going to focus on speed and strength now. Performance and precision. Do aerobic work in moderation.
So, now I’m going to post this and then go find a stupid movie. That and a very large vat of water and maybe flannel jammies. Two dogs and two cats.
I’ll feel better in the morning.
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