Our Lady of Perpetual Hell

Sitting in the Coffee Lodge after my swim, sauna, and whirlpool Sunday aft, tucked away the corner, ensconced in the big stuffed armchair, sipping a large raspberry-chocolate coffee, with my nose stuck in my chi running book, there was one point when my frustration with my 7-week inability to comfortably run bubbled to the surface and tears started leaking. I snuffled and wiped them away before anybody noticed (I think). I’d just read this, which followed a list of chi technique tips to focus on when running (the author recommends choosing a couple from the list at a time, rather than the whole shebang at once, and focussing on those couple things for one run and then choosing anouther couple to focus on for your next run, and so on):

Granted, it’s a lot to think about… but so is a car when you first learn to drive. You don’t have to learn this by next week. In fact you have the rest of your life to master these focuses, so don’t pressure yourself to learn it all at once. Just take it in small increments one day at a time and you’ll be a happy runner.

[…tears started to leak at the thought of being a happy runner again…]

That advice is almost as if it was written especially for me. Because I am the type who wants to learn it all at once. And I am the type who has had to learn to deal with things one day at a time. And it’s been a long time since I had a reminder right there in black and white, although it’s certainly not the first time I’ve been told this recently…

I have been very fortunate over the past couple months of dealing with this injury to have wonderful sources for advice and experience… Not just my physiotherapist, but a relative and lots of friends who run, my chi running instructor, and one person in particular who has become something of a running mentor to me. He has addressed the physical and mental and emotional aspects–preaching patience and self-confidence, recommending cross-training ideas, and suggesting treatments for my injury and direction for my future as a runner–always remaining so positive about my return to the sport. I am very lucky to have this guy as a resource. He hasn’t led me astray; his advice has always been useful.

Even when it seemed like he might be kidding around, seeing how far he could push… Like the contrast baths. ‘Run a bath of ice-cold water (no heat at all) and sit in it up to your waist for 10 minutes. First two minutes, you’ll hate my guts. Last eight you’ll say, “This ain’t so bad.” Follow with a hot bath, which will be the best bath you’ve ever had. Do it after every run of more than 8k or so. It works. Like having a full-body ice pack.’ And, believe it or not, I have done this. More than once.

And while “hate” is prolly too strong a word for it, I have certainly cursed at him during those first two minutes in the freezing cold water, although I must say that between the swearing and the gasps of absolute shock at the cold, I was laughing. When I told Dave The Physiotherapist about it (afraid that he would reveal that my friend was a sadistic weirdo who’d been having me on, heh-heh), he said this cold/hot bath routine was excellent advice. But Dave was amazed that I’d actually done it, because it–let’s face it–is pretty extreme.

But I guess it just goes to show how much I have come to trust my friend’s judgement when it comes to running. It’s nice to know somebody who’s a few miles ahead of me on the road I’m on, and is willing to give me a hand navigating it. Y’know, I think I’ve taken just about every piece of advice he’s offered so far…

So I s’pose that means I’ll end up going to see the orthotist he recommended, too. Though, honestly, these things look awfully hard to run in…