So this past Friday marked the half way point. I was two weeks away from the day I went to the hospital and two weeks away from my first run. I realize the hospital is fading from my reality, condensing into a series of smells, sounds and emotions, highs and lows. For days, it felt just on the realm of my conscience, too close. I wanted to strip it away from me, scrub it off as though it didn’t happen. I know that the experience is part of my life and I will mine it, eventually, for something. But for now, I just want to be as far from it as possible.
In the last few days I am returning to my old self. I care more about the little things in my life that mattered to me before: football, baking, politics. What never left was my focus on running. Even in the hospital, I thought about starting first on the stationary bike, working my way back with walking, when I could start to strength train again, what could I do that would put the least strain on my core, at least for the first two weeks. I don’t know why, but when I couldn’t sleep or really had nothing else to focus on, I focused on that.
Good things that I can capitalize on include all my nagging little running pains will have ample time to heal. When I start back running I should start with a healthy, if somewhat out of shape body. I’m lucky, because I get to start over. My first running mile or two will be a new triumph. How many people get to do that again?
Hot Flash 