The long and winding road

I'm sure this graphic is referring to something a little more serious than IT Band Syndrome, but it rang true to me.  My recovery plan after the marathon was to take a few (like 2-3) weeks off of running and work on correcting the muscle imbalances on my left side.  I would feel better every day, and my return to running would be a straight line up on the mileage chart, much like the line for expectations in the graphic above.  

What I've gotten, however, is the tangled up mess that is reality.  I am all over the place, both physically and emotionally.  Some days I feel great and have no discomfort in the knee or hip.  I get hopeful that a run longer than a quarter mile is within my grasp, and I'm happy on those days.  

Other days, like most days this week, I have this dull ache in the hip and stabbing pain in the knee.  On these days, just call me Debbie.  

These ups and downs are exhausting.  I keep trying to convince myself that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing and I'll run when I run, but believing it gets harder every time that IT band rubs me the wrong way.  I didn't realize just how difficult not running would be for me.  I didn't realize that running had become such a regulator in my life.  Obviously it has kept my weight in check, but it has an incredibly positive effect on my sleep and my moods.  Judging by how unsettled my sleep is now, I sleep much more soundly when I'm running regularly.  My energy level has plummeted, which also affects my mood.  I miss the freedom and the quiet of my runs.  I miss the feeling running gives that no matter what else happens for the rest of the day, I started it off by accomplishing something difficult.  

I read a blog post by Jess at Pace of Me where she talks about being in the "sweet spot" of running, where you are just coming off a big race and have not yet started the training cycle for the next.  You get to run for the pure enjoyment of running, without being a slave to the almighty Garmin.  I realized I feel a lot of resentment toward this injury because it has robbed me of the bliss of the sweet spot.  While nothing can take away what I accomplished by crossing the finish line (or hell, even toeing up to the start), I'm sad I missed out on the honeymoon that should have followed.  I just have to get over it and keep on keepin' on.  Because someday, my prince will come.