Haunted by Tuesdays Past
The other evening I went to my track club’s Tuesday night workout. Only I sat in the bleachers, passing time instead of passing people during a tempo run.
More than two years ago I felt a stabbing pain during Tuesday night hill repeats and limped back to my car, never to return thanks to chronic achilles tendonitis. That annoying injury eventually became a full-blown tear last fall and is what had me, four-plus months after being given “the boot,” staring at all my fit friends circling the Mesa College oval as the sun set.
I felt lumpy and misshapen and unworthy, sitting there overdressed in long sleeves and sweat pants. But I also felt inspired.
I now have a new running goal, unglamorous as it is. I’m going to get back into shape so I can return to those track workouts, and in a singlet and shorts that show off a firmer form.
The weather’s improving. My injury is improving. It’s time my ambitions improved too.
More than two years ago I felt a stabbing pain during Tuesday night hill repeats and limped back to my car, never to return thanks to chronic achilles tendonitis. That annoying injury eventually became a full-blown tear last fall and is what had me, four-plus months after being given “the boot,” staring at all my fit friends circling the Mesa College oval as the sun set.
I felt lumpy and misshapen and unworthy, sitting there overdressed in long sleeves and sweat pants. But I also felt inspired.
I now have a new running goal, unglamorous as it is. I’m going to get back into shape so I can return to those track workouts, and in a singlet and shorts that show off a firmer form.
The weather’s improving. My injury is improving. It’s time my ambitions improved too.