It's complicated...

I had good intentions when I started

Remember when we could put "it's complicated" for relationship status on social media? Do they even still have that as an option? Being married for more than 27 years now, I don't look at the relationship status profile section much.

However, "it's complicated" sums up my relationship with running since we first hooked up 5+ years ago.

I wasn't looking for a relationship at all, really. It was more of a fantasy.

I had fairy tale dreams of finishing a Walt Disney World race. I was barely out of the gate starting my health journey then. Walking was a chore. Running felt like the pumpkin chasing after prince charming instead of Cinderella in rags.

So I pushed myself. Hard. My determination and stubbornness got me through the discomfort, humiliation, and effort required to move a 350+ body. At first, it was about consistency. Then, it had to be about more. Longer. Faster.

I had to keep running. At the time, I thought it was toward a finish line.

And when I did that, it wasn't enough.

I had to do more. I had something to prove.

At some point, it didn't become about getting to the finish line. I was running away from the person I still felt I was while training for hours and hours a week.

A total fraud. A try hard. A wannabe.

I didn’t know it at the time, though. I just felt compelled to keep going.

During the races and getting the medals, I felt strong and powerful.

The endless training days and weeks in between? Despite all the hard work, I was the fat woman who was so slow. No one else ever told me that. It was all me.

I loved how it felt to finish a race. But the completion victory high was fleeting.

So, I kept pushing. Fatigue (both mental and physical) started to take its toll. But I wouldn't quit. I signed up for more races because it was the only time I felt I was accomplishing anything significant.

The injuries got more frequent. Many of them were small at first. Then my heel started acting up. Next was my IT band.

COVID came, and while I had a mild case, I noticed my energy levels weren't picking back up the way I wanted.

I kept running.

Races eventually came back. I was there. Even a few days after my dad passed away, I crossed a finish line.

I just kept running.

Finally, something snapped.

Specifically, the meniscus in my right knee.

It didn’t happen while running. It happened as I lowered my leg from a step exercise with my trainer—no pressure on it. I was preparing to put it down on the mat when it tore.

Luckily, it wasn’t a tear that required surgery. But, the damage was done. Forget about running. I was practically back where I started when walking was a challenge.

And all the fear of becoming the person I used to be before I started all of this came flooding back. Walking was uncomfortable or painful. Even my slow running was not an option.

And as I recovered, those medals I pushed for hung on my wall. What used to give me so much pride now felt like a cruel reminder of what I couldn’t do—a reminder of the person I used to be before the injury.

So, when we moved in January, I packed them up. I felt relief.

They sat in that box for six months. I didn’t feel worthy of having them on display anymore.

But the box in that office closet pestered me while I worked until I broke down and opened it up. I had my husband help me display the ones with the most meaning to me.

I still struggle looking at them because I’m not in the same shape I was when I earned them.

My knee is improving thanks to gel shots and a slow strength building.

I’ve been hitting the treadmill/dreadmill 2x a week. Mostly walking with a little jogging.

Until today.

Today, I jogged most of the mile+ I completed on the treadmill. I started very slowly and built up to a comfortably challenging cadence.

My goal was a mile. Not at a certain pace. Just to feel challenged but like I could still keep going when I hit the mile. And it happened!

I was SLOW compared to what I would have done a year or more ago.

But I felt like a rockstar.

I’m starting to re-think this whole health transformation thing…it hasn’t been comfortable at all.

Today I feel like I’m finally starting to come out of the fog.