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Returning to running after seven months of being sick and sedentary hasn’t been easy.
There have been some amazing moments, absolutely. But it’s so hard. Running is hard.
My body is recovering, but it’s still weak and tired — not to mention carrying significantly more weight than it’s used to. My muscles have all but disappeared and my stride is all over the place. My thighs chafe, my under-armpit-area skin hangs out over my sports bras and my breathing becomes heavy (and embarrassingly loud) at the slightest uphill.
Those first few runs back, exciting as they were, were the toughest.
I expected to come back somehow not having lost any of my speed, endurance or overall fitness.
I was so, so wrong.
I’d maintained nothing.
And so I had to start my comeback essentially from zero.
During those tough runs, I’d find myself frustrated, fully aware that what was once a run was now a very labored jog. More than once I ended up on the verge of tears, silently cursing Crohn’s disease and saying to myself, “I just want it to be easy.”
After months of fighting my body, I just want to move forward and I want it to be easy.
But it’s not going to be easy.
And I’m finally ready to fight. I’m ready to push through the difficult moments and accept them as milestones in my recovery process. I’m ready to accept the failures as fleeting disappointments on the way to my next victory.
I have a lot more to say on this topic, but it’s basically a short-and-sweet-something as an excuse to post this:
“Not only was Mick walking, he was running!”
It wasn’t easy for Mick. And it won’t be easy for me. That’s OK.
Talk about a kick in the short-shorts.
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