Yesterday's short run did not feel traumatic, yet by the time I got into the office I could hardly move my right hip, which felt pulled out. This is my first bout of serious sidelining for a long time, and I am watching myself in amusement as I try to cope with my frustration. Not being out on the road has put me into running withdrawal, a syndrome characterized by irritability, low tolerance for stress, inability to regulate emotions, and sheer pissiness. Without that steady rhythm, which somehow sorts out my entire system, mind, body and soul, I am most certainly adrift. Running regulates my sleep, appetite, mood. Ok, so I did yoga today. And that was useful, no doubt, working through some of the tightness, soreness, and keeping my joints loose. But there is no substitute for consistent effort. Miami looms. I am determined, by Thanksgiving, my 2 month mark, to be on regular schedule and building up from 30 to 50 miles/week and more as I cruise into January. If I can't do this, I can't expect to pull out 26.2 miles. So here's to some healing and cooperation from the micro-universe of my body's internal structures. Let's go, boys and girls, let's get it in gear!
Meanwhile, everything is back to high intensity at work, full caseload, and lots, always, going on. The universe is never short on stories and plot lines which keep morphing into new permutations, interesting, heartbreaking, compelling, pulling at my skills and resources for compassionate response. I pray always to be effective, to utilize my talents well. I think it's all lining up as needed, and I have peace about the outward direction of things. Now, if I can get my body back into the game, and feel that integrity of strength and energy once more.
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