A couple weeks have passed since my last post. I've put off writing for various reasons. 2 days after my last post my 2 year old daughter spent a few days in Primary Children's Medical Center. For a full account please see my other blog. (scroll over space below to see link) http://juliespilledthebeans.blogspot.com/2010/02/annelieses-trip-to-primary-childrens.html
Well needless to say my husband & I were at the hospital really late at night. He would stay over with Anneliese & I would go home, sleep, juggle our other 3 children around & make arrangements for us to be gone the next day. I didn't run, I was an emotional wreck, I was tired and I was overwhelmed.
We came home on Friday and we were trying to figure out our new normal. Saturday I decided to run. I was supposed to run 10 miles if I wanted to stay on my schedule. I thought it might help clear my head or maybe give me some sort of balance back into my life. I was stressed but I didn't want to give up my goal.
I ran. I ran hard. I ran up hills that I didn't even realize I had gone up until I was done. My mind was in a daze. My body was running like it never had before. It was around mile 4 when I stopped running, I fell to my knees on the curb and cried. I just couldn't do it. I had nothing left to give, not even to myself. I felt like I had ran emotional marathons everyday since we took her to the Dr. I felt like someone had lifted me up, thrown me off a cliff and I was grabbing at roots and rocks to try to keep alive only the rocks keep falling and the roots keep breaking off. There, alone, in the street, everything came swelling up and my body became immovable. I called Zach to come & get me. I was done.
A week passed and I had no desire to run. Besides... my early mornings were packed with more Dr appointments and I had no time.
Sunday came and I didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to socialize or talk to people, I was mad and didn't feel like acting for people. I wasn't mad at anything or anyone in particular, I wasn't mad at God or my Husband, I guess I was just mad at the situation we were in, I was mad that I wasn't taking care of myself, I was mad that I was letting my goal go and didn't care to do anything about it. I was mad that I had somewhere else to go that day. I was mad that I had been self medicating with chocolate and Pepsi for 2 weeks. Maybe I was mad that I was feeling everything I was feeling, after-all, it's not like she had some terminal disease, she wasn't going to DIE from this! She was going to be fine, I should feel grateful! Am I mad because I'm ungrateful? I have no idea WHY I was mad, I was just upset... depressed. Zach suggested that I take a break for the day and go run. I didn't really want to go. It took me 45 minutes to put on running shoes. I got on You-Tube to try & find something that might spark some positive emotion about running. I found it. A girl who had just ran her first marathon and how she felt throughout and after the process.
I went out the door with a new determination. 10 miles. I feel like I have no control over my life and what happens but I have control over this and I NEED to do this. I ran 3 miles and started to feel physically drained. I couldn't run anymore. I started to walk. The idea was that I would start running again after I gave myself a break. I tried a couple of feeble attempts but didn't get far before I started walking again. That's OK, I'll just walk the 10 miles.
Around mile 7 my foot & ankle started hurting again. By mile 9 I could barely step on my right foot. The pain was excruciating. I thought the Plantar Fasciitis was gone! I had one mile left and I thought about calling Zach to come & get me because of the pain but I NEEDED to finish. Somehow this extreme pain was almost... relieving. It made me feel... something... something other than emotional pain. I just kept repeating in my head... I CAN do this, I WILL do this, I AM doing this. I finally made it home, iced my feet and took a shower that seemed to wash away more than dirt & sweat.
I'm feeling a little better everyday. I have the 10 mile race this Saturday. (The hardest one yet.) I know I won't be able to run it. I'm determined to walk it, I don't care if I'm the last one to cross the line, I just want to do it. The Podiatrist wrapped up my feet again and is sending me to physical therapy so I can heal in time to run the marathon. The hope is that there will be no more pain in 3 weeks. I'm stuck back on the elliptical in the meantime which I'm not excited about but at least I'm still moving forward.
I had this little wrench thrown in that stopped everything from working perfectly and I'm still just trying to figure out how to make everything work... it will be different, I know, but we will get it worked out again.
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