If you read my last post, you are pretty much up to speed in my running world. If you haven't, well, either go back a step, or continue on and try to keep up.
The Run Like a Girl event is just around the corner, and I am registered for the 1/2 marathon. According to my self-designed-due-to-injury running schedule, I was due for a 10-miler. Having just returned from a 4-day retreat where I spent the most of the time sitting, my foot was given a lengthy rest and was feeling pretty decent. I wanted to attempt this last long run on pavement, since that is the terrain I will be traversing during the 1/2, and quite frankly, I am sick to death of my treadmill. I planned my route as a 5-mile loop to run twice. Strategic parking allowed for the passing of my car 3 times during those 2 loops, allowing for the possibility that I may need to cut the run short, and there are several other access points to the trail from neighborhoods it passes through, providing easy access to anyone who may need to come to my rescue. I texted my husband as to my whereabouts, mostly to give him the heads-up in case I did need rescuing, and set off down the trail.
The first 1.5 miles went well. The foot was holding up and my pace was promising. I came to the first turnaround point and headed back. Not long after that, I felt a stab in my knee. Knee pain is nothing new to me, and sometimes if I slow the pace but keep moving whatever is going on in there will work itself out. A few steps later I realized this is not familiar knee pain. This felt like bone striking bone. Still, I was hopeful that if I kept moving, it might work itself out. On level ground, I felt nothing. But the slightest incline or curve in the trail that caused a change in my heel-strike resulted in a stab that nearly buckled me. By the 4 mile mark, I was just praying to make it back to the car. At 4.5, I couldn't run another step. Angrily, I resigned myself to walking the last half-mile to the car.
This, folks, was a "come to Jesus" experience. And come to Him I did ~ with every once and iota of frustration, anger, and upset I'd harbored during the last year and some change. I dare say this was one of my darker moments as I cursed God. It is a cruel irony that He has given me a strong will trapped inside a fragile body. And I promise I will bitch-slap the first person who refers to Matthew 26:41 or Mark 14:38. I am well acquainted with these verses. MY will is not HIS will. Miraculously, my body seems to hold up just fine when it's regarding HIS will. Only when it's regarding MY will does my body seem to fall apart. Way to be fair, there, God. I am strong enough to do what YOU want, but not what I want? Thanks. I must have looked like an utter loon walking down the trail crying ~ more from anger than pain ~ and talking to no one who was visible.
More than once over the last year, in conversation about the physical quirks I live with, it has been suggested that I may have a "non-specific" autoimmune disorder, or possibly EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). From what I have read, EDS results from a chromosomal mutation and can be inherited. Since I have inquired of both sides about family members who may have dealt with hypermobility and come up with bupkis, if EDS is the culprit, I apparently have the dubious honor of beginning the lineage of damaged genes. Go me. And considering that both of my boys are hypermobile, it seems also that I have passed on my broken chromosome. Sorry guys ~ truly. The only severely tarnished silver lining to EDS is that I have found nothing to indicate that the syndrome is progressive ~ unlike an autoimmune disorder. Generally, with an autoimmune disorder ~ for example, rheumatoid arthritis or HIV ~ one's own immune system continues to attack their own cells. In other words, the damage that has already been done is only the tip of the iceberg. If an autoimmune disorder is at fault, my connective tissue will continue to sustain damage, more than likely to result in increasingly lax joints and possible damage to vessels and valves of the cardiovascular system. Oh, the possibilities!!
As I came to Jesus after that failed run, I also had to come to terms with the physical defects and limitations I have been denying for years. As I have witnessed my own body deteriorate with increasingly numerous and frequent dislocations, sprains, strains, and circulatory hiccups, I have refused to believe that my body was weak in any way. Since the mantra of my life seems to be "This, too, shall pass", I believed that I could overcome every new ache, pain, or injury by sheer determination and will. That belief is beginning to waver. But what is more is that I have lived the last few years in constant fear of injury. Already there are so many things I want to do but do not for fear of re-injury, now I need to worry about injuring myself at all?! Why bother getting out of bed in the morning? Why give me the desire without a way to obtain the means? Again we come back to the cruel irony.
Someone once accused me of having no tolerance for weakness. The comment caused me a moment's pause to decide whether or not it was true, and what I determined was that I have no tolerance for weakness in myself. And yet, here I am, trapped in what I perceive to be a weak body. The ultimate humility.
Some might remind me that there are scores of folks in the world who have it far worse than I, and that I should leave the pity-party-of-one, put on my "big girl panties", and be grateful for what I do have. True. And I am grateful. But please remember, that you do not live inside this body, fight these internal conflicts, or war with these demons. Each are my own, and the battle tends to make one weary. So as I wallow in the weakness of my body, please forgive me the momentary weakness of my spirit. I promise I'll be back to my cast-iron bitch self soon enough.
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