Run Forest, Run!

Back in February a few of you lucky readers got to witness first hand, the long and painful road to recovery after I completely destroyed my left leg. After surgery, a hard cast, a walking boot, and 2 months of physical therapy, I am happy to say that I am feeling absolutely wonderful again! Actually, I feel better now than I did before I broke my leg. Now, this is not to say that there weren't days back in February and March where I wanted to stop in the crosswalk at school and let oncoming traffic finish me off. Believe me, I have never had so much time to sit and think as I did those couple of months when I barely left my room. So what's the point? The point is, one day I woke up and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I stopped complaining (for the most part) about how terrible things were and started thinking about how much worse things could be. I thought to myself, at least I have a leg, at least I have the ability to walk again, at least I have parents who can afford for me to take every available step to recover. I remember how upset I was on graduation day that my ankle was still SO swollen. I had to wear my brace when I walked across the stage to get my diploma. Then, I had to go home and put on tennis shoes just so I could make it to the graduation party. I was a mean person! I was bitter and unhappy and let everyone around me know it. And not once did I stop and think, well at least I am able to graduate!

But that was then and this is now. When I came home after graduation I went to see the doctor so that he could follow up on the status of my ankle. He told me that I couldn't run for another two months. Upon hearing this, I freaked out! I was tired of sitting around doing nothing and waiting for time to pass. I hadn't exercised in months and it showed, believe me. I had enjoyed too many late night trips to
Coldstone courtesy of my super patient boyfriend at the time and best friend. So, despite what the doctor said I started running. I said, screw it, now is just as good a time as any to see what this ankle is made of (mainly metal plates and screws, in case you were wondering). And I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran some more. And I'm still running, and it still hurts, and its still swollen, and yes, there are days when I still complain, but I know that I'm lucky and blessed to have the ability to run, and run fast and I will never take it for granted. Which leads me to a story. Not surprised are you?

Yesterday, for the first time, I gave in to my mom's request for us to go running together. I have been saying "no" to her FOREVER, and I finally said what the heck. Running with her made me realize how anal I am when I run. I have to have my shoes tied just right, a certain kind of socks, my ipod has to be adjusted properly on my arm, and I have to listen to a certain song before I start my run. Weird, I know. So needless to say the run with my mom was less than perfect. Turns out my pace is much faster than her and I don't exactly run in a straight line. I've noticed that when I run I look like I'm having a seizure/trying to out run a swarm of bees. I run in a zigzag pattern, on really good songs I sing out loud, sometimes I even raise my hands in the air and dance to the songs. To anyone driving by on the semi-busy road that I run on, it probably looks like I'm not all there mentally. But you know, I just really don't care. Whatever it takes to get me through those four miles. And believe me, sometimes it seems like I'm going to pass out mid run, but I always manage to make it back. It almost feels like I have to prove to myself that I still have it, that I'm still motivated and driven to make myself better. All I can say is, it feels good to be back.