Fifteen minutes

Fifteen minutes can be a life-changing experience.

I said it in my last post, which is funny because it wasn’t too long after that I wasn’t able to run anymore, but I was training for an ultra-marathon. This wasn’t going to be my first-rodeo. And I am hoping it won’t be my attempt at a last either.

I woke up one morning after a long run with a severe pain in my butt. Yes, it was a literal pain, not a figure that I made up in my mind and let get to me over time. I say that with out any sentiment of brevity or lightness because right now I am writing something with the intention of posting and I am more emotional than I have been in most posts. No, I do not mean emotional like I am sitting her hovering over my keyboard with tears streaming down my face. There is not a pool filling the gaps between the keys. No, I am mad.  I could be downright livid if I let myself get to that point, but there isn’t really need for that. All I really need to focus on is putting that anger to good use: putting into my rehab exercises, my change of diet, my sleep. Making sure I have all the little things down, and then everything will come into alignment when I am able to start running.

This is not my first time on the dance floor with injury. Especially over the last three years. I even had a dear friend tell me I should tell everyone it’s been a six-year nagging injury.

Guess what? We all go through slumps. Some of us happen upon them more than others. I am not going to tell you every single one but over the last three years, I think I may have run 12 full months. I have taken extended periods of time off for everything from toe pain, to hip misalignment, to depression, to just flat out not caring anymore.

I am frustrated more this go around. Which I feel like I shouldn’t be.

I am being treated like a child by people I respect.

Reading an article on Competitor magazine’s online publication I came across an article featuring Anton Krupicka. He is pretty well known in the Ultra-marathoning world, and very well respected. Some have even said that he has “fallen off the map” a bit. But I would definitely say he is a hero of mine. Someone I look up to and respect.

Competitor asked him if his fans really knew him. Krupicka’s response struck a chord:

“People like to categorize and project so they think they understand something. It often comes down to me being tied to minimalism or not wearing a shirt, the long hair and the beard or stuff that I don’t identify with at all. Those are all superficial things. Everybody is way more nuanced and layered than some label you can stick on them. I wear real shoes when I run. You get all of this attention and adulation and flattery, but it’s not that fulfilling because these people don’t really know you. It’s an artificial connection between a fan and a follower.”

I am nowhere near the level of Krupicka. Nor am I trying to at this point in my life.

All I am saying is that if you don’t know the person, you don’t know their history don’t tell them what to do. Don’t tell them how to react, or how to be. Just let them be.

It is a lesson I must learn myself, I know. Stop projecting. Don’t tell them you understand how they feel because that one time you… STOP. Tell them, “Hey, that sucks. Your feelings are valid.”

Don’t question their dedication. They’re doing everything they can. Don’t question their willingness to succeed. Because they have dreamed about moments you may never even imagine. Don’t question their goals. They’ve had to rewrite them on new scraps of paper because the others have become threadbare from watching them for so long. Don’t question, just be there. Don’t tell them it is in their head, they’re already worried that it is. And once they hear that, they could lose it all. Don’t tell them they are making a poor choice. Don’t tell them what they are doing is wrong, when they know they’ve tried everything else and it isn’t right. And if you can’t, tell them that. They would rather have you walk away than fake it. They don’t need negativity in their life. They don’t need you to push them away from something they want so badly it hurts.
They lean on you for support. So be strong in your stance. Don’t let them falter because you’re wavering. 

I want to thank everyone who has been there for me. Who has sat with me, cried with me, taken me on runs, taken me out, fed me food, and gave me beer (of the gluten free variety!). I am eternally grateful. 

Let them fight the good fight. Let them go down the road. And if you want to be by their side, then shut up about it, hold their hand and say, “I got your back, player.”

UPDATE: I’ve run fifteen minutes each day the last two days. Comeback train!!