My New Life as a Walk On

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While preparing for the official launch of Anne 6.0 next month, I searched for races on launch day and found only one in my area. It looked like an ideal competition – with a 10k or 5k on relatively flat, non-technical trails. I signed up, then got others to join me.

 

Then almost four weeks ago, I sprained my ankle. Like, a this-is-not-going-to-heal-in-a-few-days sprain.* It’s still slightly swollen and hurts when I flex it, but it’s much, much improved. [Update: that's because I actually broke it and it set wrong.] I went for a 1.75-mile walk the other day – per my PT’s instructions – and it felt good. I walked around Balboa Park for a couple miles today and it now hurts like hell.

 

The daily RICE regimen might have been more frustrating had I not also contracted Covid from a family member, and therefore had even more reasons to remain off my feet as much as possible. It felt like a moderate flu for a few days, and I didn’t lose my senses of taste or smell. However, until this weekend my head remained congested even after testing negative. That’s because we hit a warm spell and it confused all the flowering plants (see photo above from our “backyard” foliage blooming way ahead of schedule).

 

I spent more time than usual with my thoughts in recent weeks, and I’m now ready to admit something I should have a while ago: I’m done with running. Or, rather, running’s done with me. It’s one thing to wear out tendons and ligaments and continue running on arthritic knees and hips. It’s quite another to periodically fall for no apparent reason other than you no longer lift your legs like you used to. Your lungs are seemingly always compromised by germs, pollen or pollutants. And you just look a little pathetic pretending you’re moving at a pace you’re not.

 

Not how I wanted to age out of the sport.

 

But my day job requires me to connect dots and see the big picture. So, I’m a bit disappointed that it took this long to broadly assess big injuries and bagged races and conclude how counterproductive running had become. I have so many friends that I met through running, but that’s not me anymore. I have dozens of labels for blog posts, but apparently I never needed one for #walking.

 

So, instead of starting my seventh decade with yet another DNS due to injury or illness (or both in this case), I’m showing up. As a walker. Proudly, I hope.  My daughter will be with me, and maybe a friend or two for a few seconds before they take off. I know we’ll pick up the pace, but I also know my daughter will slow me down. She’s already told me as much.

 

And that’s why this is a turning point. 

 

I’m now a walker, on and off the course. I’m going to amble along most days, maybe a couple of miles and maybe more. I’ll walk in my neighborhood and on nearby beaches and dirt trails and across mountain ranges. I am surrounded by miles and miles of beautiful scenery; it’s time I enjoyed the journey instead of worrying how quickly I can get through it. Plan destination hikes that require BioFreeze for only a day, not the entire trip.

 

Do not let me lapse into longwinded stories of my running days. Not unless they are pertinent, and those opportunities should be few. Do not let me return to magical thinking of marathons, or even half marathons that now will never be. Instead, stand with me when I waver. Help me stay strong. Remind me of all the things I can now do because I'm not worried about going too far for too long. Come and join me as I finally get off the sidelines and embrace my new life as a walk on. 


*It wasn't sprained, it was broken. And it didn't set properly, so to this day I cannot run on it without immediate pain.

 

Photo of the pollenating shrubs outside our garage responsible for some of my current misery.

 

 

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