I didn’t realize how closely my identity was tied to my running… until I couldn’t run.
A few days ago, I stubbed my toe badly enough to require an Urgent Care visit. They glued it up and told me to stay off it for at least two weeks. No running. No trails. No ritual. Uh oh…
Getting sidelined from something so central to my identity and well-being stirred up some emotions for me, and I figured it might help to fire up the old blog to process a bit.
At first, I felt frustration about losing momentum. I just ran the Big Sur marathon (my third!), and I’ve been feeling strong. A two week break is gonna set me back a bit.
Suddenly, travel feels less exciting. I’ve got two back-to-back trips coming up. If I don’t run while I’m there and post ocean sunsets on Strava… was I really even there?
Then came the deeper stuff: sadness, guilt, even vanity. Running isn’t just exercise for me – it’s how I structure my day, how I process emotions and work through problems, and how I connect with community. My daily runs motivate me to finish work early so I can spend more time outdoors – or to wake up extra early to meet up with my trail community before the day begins. Without these things, the days feel a little emptier and less exciting.
And then there’s the vanity angle: I like being able to eat whatever I want 🍕. I rely on running to balance things out. The fear of gaining weight crept in, and if I’m being totally honest here, I feel some shame even acknowledging that fear.
Aside from a few bouts with Covid, this’ll be my longest time away from running since I started in earnest back in college. But this feels different, because I’m in my regular routine – working, walking around – not bedridden.
As I think about what the next two weeks will look like, I notice the gaps in my mornings and evenings, and my mind jumps to fill them. I have so many interests that I rarely make time for… Maybe I’ll write a blog post (check!), finish the three books I’m reading, play around with DJ gear, and start a garden.
But hold on a minute… what’s up with this instinct to fill every waking hour with productivity? I keep telling myself it’s not an avoidance technique, but maybe there’s something deeper I’m not seeing.
As I packed for my upcoming trips to Monterey and Santa Monica, I realized that my suitcase had some extra space. No running shoes. No hydration vest. No wrestling with a zipper.
Life without running feels… simpler? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
Back in April, I spent five days at a silent meditation retreat at Spirit Rock. We were encouraged to “walk mindfully” – slow, deliberate steps, noticing everything. I’m moving like that again now, not by choice but by necessity. And maybe that’s okay.
There’s a little relief in letting go of constant motion. I’m curious about what stillness has to teach me.
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