Here in Southern Vermont, we were spared any of Hurricane Sandy’s wrath. We had been prepared for the worst, per TS Irene last year, but received only heavy rain and wind.
Earlier in the day, I read a runners blog out of NYC. She wrote about gratitude and the strength of fellow New Yorkers’ resilience post-Sandy. She loves her town and it shows. She said, and this is big, that the she wasn’t concerned right now about whether the NYC marathon was on or not. She has bigger fish to fry. Wow.
I spent the first 17 years of my life in Manhattan. I don’t often consider myself a New Yorker, unless its to brag. It is an origin of convenience. Or whatever. I never loved NY, it was just where we lived. But, somewhere, deep in my DNA is New Yorker. On 9/11, the first person I wanted to talk to was my mom. In 2001, it had been 10 years since we moved to VT. But, I ached for my city then as though I’d never left.
I’m feeling a similar tug to NY today. The pictures I’ve seen, the posts, TV coverage are all unreal. I feel frustration and anger and sadness. And all I can do is pray. It has to be enough.
So, what does this have to do with running, you ask?
I took a whole week off of running, without really meaning to. After my long run and then the CHaD race, my shins felt like they had daggers in them. Every.step.hurt. I didn’t want to stop, but I HURT. I hiked, I stacked wood, I cleaned (aggressively), I raked more leaves than any one person should. I walked. But, none of it is running.
And, I started to get bitchy. Really bitchy. Stop chewing so loudly bitchy. I started thinking maybe I didn’t need or like running anymore! WHAT!!!?!!! Okay, enough, go run. Slowly, gently.
This is the trail that started it all.
Mile and a half in, and no shin pain. Amazing. I guess I did need some time to heal.
Ahhh, and I’m back. I love these trails. They are my GF bread and butter. I can feel my mood lifting. I’m pushing out the heartache and the depression.
My gratitude is rising. Aggie is happy to run. I’m happy to run. I don’t feel as messy as I did. And less hopeless and helpless. Thank God for running. This was a short three mile run. Just enough to get moving and not re-injure. And to get my head screwed back on. I love running, I’m passion about it, and I better appreciate what I gots while I gots it. Before its gone. Big sigh of relief. And it works to help get me out of the way of me.
I think I’m more available for prayer for my fellow New Yorkers now.
I’ll always love you New York.- Ryan Adams