"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
So, I've been sidelined again. This time: my left knee. It has been bothering me since doing lots of walking back in November when I went to Chicago for a teachers' convention. I managed to run a marathon, a Spartan race, and a half marathon on it. But after a heavy leg day, my knee said, "That's enough." The pain was no longer an annoying ache; it was more like a screaming toddler demanding attention.
The first two weeks of no running was a roller coaster. I swung wildly between, "That's fine; I'll focus on cross training," to "OH MY GOSH! If I don't start running again SOON I think I'm going to die." Once again, I'm left contemplating my running addiction. The two weeks I took off were the first two weeks that I had not run a single step since I began regularly running in 2008. I know that I struggle with finding balance. I find it interesting that every time I really begin to loose balance, I end up sitting on my butt with some type of ache or pain that prevents me from running.
This time it feels different. Having pain around my knee is scary. It's different from a sore quad, which is just annoying. I'm taking it seriously, and I'm realizing how mindless my training is most of the time. I'm guilty of going through the motions: logging miles faster than I should; lifting faster than I should. I'm committing to being more mindful of each movement. Of being more careful about foot placement and form. My body is getting older and there is no room for sloppy training. I'm committing to more stretching. To yoga a few times a week. And to rest. Not just taking a day off of training, but taking my mind off of training as well.