I had to stop running again. This time due to achilles tendonitis. My achilles started acting up when my hip injury from last year was recovering. I’d gotten it under control, or so I thought.

Here I am after that last race. A 15k. I remember being cold. I don’t remember my ankle bothering me.

I’d been following a training plan for a race and largely running on the treadmill as it was cold at 5am during the winter. (I can do dark, I can do cold, but I don’t like to do dark and cold.) After the race, I decided to run whatever I felt like for a while, which I always do. It had also warmed up enough so that I was able to do most of my runs outside. I suspect the combination of running as far as I felt like in addition to the change of terrain aggravated my ankle.

Around my birthday, it became clear that this was not going to heal without some time off. I scheduled an appointment with a physical therapist and stopped running. I tried biking, but it aggravated my achilles also. I’ve been incredibly frustrated.

I’m now on week two.

Three days a week, I go early to the gym and use the Arc Trainer before class. This machine must have been invented for injured runners. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s like an elliptical, but the footpads just go forward and back instead of in a circle. You can even swing your arms like you’re running. Two days a week, I do a walk outside, with some slow running interspersed if everything feels okay. Saturday and Sunday have been crap shoots, but generally very long walks.

Cloud occasionally likes to come and make sure my productivity levels aren’t slipping.

I also walk on the treadmill during the morning while I’m working. I used to do inclines at certain points to switch it up. I’ve taken those out. They seem to aggravate the ankle, so I went from mostly walking on inclines, to walking flat.

I remember having a thought that it was a shame that I wanted to work out so badly and physically couldn’t while there are all of those people out there, completely capable, with no desire to get off the couch. A lot of people probably won’t even understand why it’s so hard for me to take several weeks off of running. I’ll try and explain.

I’m paranoid about what I’m eating because I had just gotten down to a weight I was happy with and don’t want to gain anything back. I could start counting calories again, but I tend to get a bit obsessed with numbers when I do that, so I’d rather leave it as a last resort. As a result, I’m hungry a lot because I’m scared that I’ll overeat due to what I was used to taking in. I know I’m not burning what I was. So every meal has a little more stress attached.

My ARC Trainer screen after Thursdays workout. What it should say is ‘Sunrises seen: 0.’

Those hours spent in the gym are hours that I’m not outside, enjoying a sunrise, being a nature-communing-hippie. Generally nourishing my soul. It’s why I’m doing the walks a couple times a week. I probably burn more with the ARC trainer, but I need the time outside.

I’m in my forties now. I’m concerned about losing muscle tone. I know that I will eventually get it back, but it’s more and more difficult. I’ve never been one that put on muscle easily. Yes, of course, I’m still doing my weight training, but the effects of the treadmill inclines on my butt and thighs were noticeable (and kind of the whole point). I was feeling good about myself, now I’m just wondering how long until I don’t.

I’m wondering if this is the beginning of the end of my favorite exercise.

For the past few years, I’ve felt like injury begats injury begats injury. I’m a good patient. I do my physical therapy religiously. I follow directions. I eat healthy. I go to bed early. Etc. I know that everyone’s body sputters out eventually, but I was hoping to be one of those cotton headed people still enjoying the running trail.

This cheese. This guilt free cheese on the weekends. That’s another reason to run.

I’m worried that I might have to have surgery on this. This is probably borrowing trouble in advance, but I know that with my age, it’s a possibility. I’ve never had surgery. That’s terrifying. I also know how much time off that would necessitate. It terrifies me. It’s one reason I stopped.

I get my best ideas when I’m running. I work out problems in what I’m writing. I am hit by new ideas. I’ve come up with entire scenes on my run and pounded them out when I get home. When I’m sitting on the ARC trainer in the gym, there’s enormous televisions everywhere, playing the same cat videos and music videos on repeat. Week after week! Can we get some new cat videos at least? And they grab my eye. I don’t want to look at them, but the eye goes there. The brain becomes blank and useless as it absorbs the same orange tabby squashing itself into an empty fishbowl for the upteenth time.

In short, my creative fuel line has an enormous kink.

I know this isn’t forever, I’ve been through it before, and I usually try and put a positive spin on this, but I just can’t this year.

I don’t want to miss the spring for a second year in a row.

I love those early sunrises. The winter before last, I kept telling myself that getting up at 5am would be worth it when spring came and I was used to it. And yes, I still got up at 5am, but I couldn’t do what I wanted to do. I just didn’t want to miss it this year.

So I’ll go to physical therapy, and hope that something can be done. And I hope the solution isn’t to stop doing everything for a while.

Keep your fingers crossed.

It's not just running ~ when your body fails.