Rehab

4 May

Hello lovelies!!!

And how are you today?

Sunday met me with fatigue. I slept in beyond the sun rising and although my body needed it I woke up with guilt. I hate wasting the day. 

I shuffled around my city apartment eager to prep for a run. That’s right—a run! 

The doctors tell me NO running but over the course of the past few weeks I’ve logged miles and sweat that rehabbed me just like Hawaii did. Am I always predisposed to opposition, especially from doctors—yes…but perhaps all I needed was a the salty elixir of the beach, too many glasses of chardonnay and tequila, fresh sushi and a place that reminded me how vast this Earth is. 

I believe all I needed was a break from the strict regimen that I created. Hawaii was an excuse for a mental rehab, a healthy diet without counting calories while indulging in a little more than moderate alcohol consumption. Was this the cure for my hip? Did I need to exercise some bad habits because I was too prudent before with my exercise routine? Yes. I was walking a tightrope and I desperately needed to fall. The safety net was the sand, hiking, and water. 

I speculated that I was living before in the walls I confined myself to. Then I found myself on an island where I captured endless panoramas of the sky and the sun kissing the water’s horizon.

 I wasn’t confined to any space at all, anymore. I had an infatuated and romantic spirit romanticizing every scene discovering new memories and treasures. I didn’t worry about my lack of miles journaled. It was outrageous! This was the first time I traveled without working out. I lived in the moment. I Inhaled the thick air and allowed it to be my compass to new maps and new chance meetings. I treaded the map without caution. No barriers. 

Talking about barriers, I was recently confined to the small space known as an MRI. Oh man that machine can double as a familiar nightmare. It was one hour of awkward positioning, feet strapped in unnaturally like I was in a psych ward sending sharp pain to my right hip, and loud noises that sounded like an alien-invasion—but no worries, while the alien invasion noises echoed I was acquainted with the backdrop of classic rock and roll promising me all was right and normal in the world [insert obnoxious alien sounds here 🎶]…What a clever way to haunt a patient while blinding them of the reality of what is really going on.  

What really went on was that these aliens, aka Doctors, diagnosed me thereafter and warned me that I can’t run anymore without surgery. I was indeed blind-sighted. Not running is not an option. 

A month has gone by since the MRI and I have been healed through the salt of my tears and sea; tears for several inexplicable reasons and tears for reasons that you know. So today, Sunday, I decided to run the tears out. 

It was a late start but I started nonetheless. My recent experiences, a divorce, going to Hawaii, being united with my loved ones, they have all been powerful and equally fundamental agents in my healing. The experiences have been my compass and like the thick air of Hawaii, they gave a pulse to my veins and a pulse for my run.

So I ran. I ran only 6 miles today and all the miles were euphoric. I’ve been to a lot of places and I ran this stretch of course before, but it was unlike my other runs. Was it my new breath that changed its scene? Or was it my new compass and the direction of my dreams? Today’s run didn’t have that voice in my head lambasting me with my foul ups of the past. My voice was encouraging me and promising me that the damage I had done was done. There was NO war-zone. It was a peaceful run for the most part—but an equally difficult one as I rummaged through my recent memories that had me transported home with family and friends where unconditional love, kindness and support thrive. I wanted to cry but for ALL the right reasons. 

I didn’t cry. I just ran. I started slow to make certain I didn’t aggravate my hip; however, keeping a pace of 7:40-8:00 for a 6 mile run was torture. I needed speed. I picked up my pace, drove my knees forward, tightened my stomach and kept turning over my feet until my lungs felt challenged. I found the familiar rhythm of my steps. Oh thank goodness. A month off of regimented running and I still had speed—even after an indulgent vacation! I call this REASSURANCE!  

And so I ended my run with an attitude of gratitude. I was (still am) grateful for the hiccups, the blessings, the past, the memories, the present and the future. I’m grateful I was able to run without pain. I am grateful that I am making my way for a comeback.  

Today’s run reminds me that the only walls I want to ever be confined to are those of an MRI. Hawaii was good for me. The open space, the majestic and powerful water, diverse panoramas, laughter and the endless chardonnay were my healing agents. Sometimes the best cure for an inherit body quirk is time off from routine. 

Salute to taking your running shoes off and letting your feet glide over the cool sand while you slow dance to the harmonious symphony any of the waves crashing upon the shore under the night sky. 

This has been my rehab.

 “Making a comeback is one of the most difficult things to do with dignity [on and off the course]” – Greg Lake.

What has your running rehab been? How do you take time off that feels rewarding?

Thanks for stopping by and happy running and happy living! 

 XO

Valgal

   

   

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