Running in Prison

Orange is the new...spandex?

No, I haven't done something stupid(er than usual) and got myself incarcerated - it just feels like it.

I have actually been getting out for some semi-regular runs, and even managed to go long enough to make the last few count for the 100 runs in 100 days challenge. Last night's 30min trot 'round the neighborhood was my final one for the challenge, which ends today - it both started and finished on a Friday, which is always a rest day for me. With the 3 runs I've been able to add in the last 7 days, my ending total is 67 - good enough for the top 100, but still a far cry from the top-10 placing I was holding down before I got hurt.

Also: not even good enough for the bronze medal (which requires 70+)

A friend of mine commented on an instagram post I made after Tuesday's lunch run - my first lunch run in 6 weeks - saying "She's back!". I know it was well-meant, but honestly I just found it a bit depressing.

You see, running right now really does feel like I'm imprisoned. I don't feel the ankle is ready to run every day yet; I've only just come to a point that every second day feels ok. I can't choose my distance and routing according to my fancy: I'm limited to what I think my ankle can stand, which so far is only the least interesting terrain I can find. I haven't even tested out a rail trail yet (let alone the technical trails that really make my heart sing), as I know that there is still ice and mud out there that could cause real problems. I can't dress the way I want to, as I have to make sure I won't go hypothermic if it turns out I need to stop and walk the rest of the way back to my home or office. Even if I ignore all that as necessary precautions, my lost fitness over the past weeks means I no longer have an "easy" pace - even very slow running leaves me gasping and wheezing, a prisoner of my severely reduced athletic capabilities.

This isn't what I'd call "back"

I know I sound like a petulant child - really, I'm grateful to be able to run again at all, even if it's not totally comfortable and severely limited for now. I know that five weeks off is fairly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and that I'm lucky I'm not still in a walking boot or relying on a cane to get around at all. Still, one of the things I treasured about the hard-won fitness I'd been able to build over the last few years was the freedom to go run whatever I pleased, whether that was a tough hill workout, an epic multi-hour trail adventure, or just an hour of exploring the streets of a town I was visiting.

It's easy to say that things will improve and I will (hopefully) once more regain my freedom; the ankle will get stronger, my aerobic capacity will return, and I should simply focus on what I'm able to do right now instead of comparing to the past. The reality, though, is that I'm slapped in the face every day with reminders of things I want so badly but simply cannot do: passing a trailhead or driving along a route I used to run, or even seeing friends' photos and stories of amazing runs and trails they've enjoyed. I try to be happy for them, but I won't lie and say that I don't struggle a lot to stay positive.

"No, no - you guys go ahead. I'll be fine...really.."

I may not be in solitary confinement anymore, but I'm still wishing I could at least get a day pass...if not full parole.