running injured

Mother-Runner, these terms are for me, inseparable, one word, without one I am LESS of the other. It is like breathing in without the exhale. “IN” mother “OUT” runner, over and over, for the rhythm that I move most gracefully to. When the movements begin to shift to one-side, I feel the strain, everyone around me does too. I begin to close. I imagine that my daily duties, chores, burdens, are like stones that I carry, some small, some large. As I work out of the rhythm of  “in” mother “out” runner the heavier stones shift, roll, creep their way to the top, as my “identity breath” shifts and narrows, these stones block my path. When it finally occurs to me that I have neglected “runner”, and this is so easy to do. First it appears as something indulgent, then it turns to frustration, and then onto self pity. But so luckily that soft song of the road finds its way back to my heart and begins to tug, I head out alone once again and begin to settle to the rhythm, “IN” mother “OUT” runner.

The rocks shift, moan, groan until they begin to find footing and secure themselves to the solution that was always there. The surrender begins to sweeten me, it warms my legs, my back and finally my heart, the stones settle to the sides they begin to resemble a shape as I move forward more, I can recognize that its home. I wonder why I allowed confusion and fear to keep me from this pure joy, how could I have refused such a gift?  I actually spoke the answer out load to my self, one part of me responded to another part of me.  “You are injured”.

I was, am, running injured.  I knew something was wrong, of course did. i filed it under things like “not in the zone” just a “bad week”  maybe I’m not eating right?  The weather changes, seriously? The weather?  Yes, I was avoiding the real issue.  It is very hard to lie to yourself while running, so I avoided the run. Like a person, just a quick hello, how have you been? Keep it light, 5-6 miles, nothing longer because it starts to get too personnel.

In March my brother was hospitalized, it was very serious. It changed everything for me, completely broke me open. I’ve been trying to come back together ever since, but i don’t think I can use the same parts anymore and it is taking so much to grow the new ones.  I think for me, being an only child for 13 years in a family that can rival any Jerry Springer episode,  my brother was my first “constant” my first anything “wonderful” really. Just plain pure love.  We stuck together like glue, we still do, it was always “US” . What do I do if that changes? Who will I be? “US” is where I came from, I will have no history if he has no future.  Those missing parts left me too injured to run, to run with my heart that is, because for the moment it was in a million tiny pieces.

But writing this, realizing this, means it is mending.  I am coming back together, I can hear the road calling and waiting.

Love,

Zak