Starting Over

 This blog has technically existed since 2016. And I blogged semi-regularly for a while, through 2017, stopping right before I ran a half-marathon. I picked it back up in 2019, after I'd ran my first marathon and was training for my second. And then I just stopped.

I started running because of a fear that I had. I was afraid that my chronic knee and back injuries were going to leave me unable to walk without aid, like I was told they would back in April 2007. They had given me ten years before I'd need permanent aid, so I started running because I refused to admit defeat. And I did. In April 2017, instead of picking out a cool cane to walk with, I crossed the finish line of the Oklahoma City Memorial Half-Marathon, almost twenty minutes faster than I thought I would. I was ecstatic and determined to run a full marathon the following year.

I completed the 2018 marathon and set my sights on continuing to run marathons. But I didn't do it the right way. I didn't train properly for 2019 (for a variety of reasons, which I may or may not divulge), and while I finished, I was injured. My feet and ankles were on fire. And for some reason, I thought I could rehab and go on to run in 2020. As I'm sure you can imagine, 2020 was a bit of a mess. I separated from my husband and continued to struggle with my foot injuries (in both feet). But I'd paid to run, so I did. And that was the beginning of the end. By the time I was done, I realized that I had potentially ruined by feet for years.

And years it has been. I spent the next three years fighting against my feet. It took over a year for my Achilles to stop hurting every day. But my plantar fasciitis took so much longer. It didn't help that I gained a lot of weight. There are a variety of reasons for that as well, not all of which I had any control over.

But earlier this year, I noticed that I was no longer waking up and having to manually work my feet before I got out of bed to avoid the pain and stiffness. So I started walking. Just short walks. Usually with my dog. Then I let them get longer. But I was still afraid to run. Because every time I had given it a try, the pain would come back.

And then, on October 1st, I woke up with a sore throat. It was super mild and I thought it was from sleeping while facing the air vent while the AC was on. But by the end of the night, my throat was on fire and I felt very congested. Waking up on Monday, my chest was burning and I my voice was very hoarse. I went to work, wearing a mask so no one would get my cold, and my manager handed me a Covid test and asked me to take it before I came back to work on Tuesday.

As I'm sure you can guess, I was positive on Tuesday morning. Luckily I was able to continue working from home. My daughter tested negative and immediately went to her dad's house. She never got sick, thankfully, and neither did anyone else that was exposed. I however, was rapidly getting worse. By Tuesday morning, my voice was gone, I couldn't bend over without losing my breath, and walking twenty feet to the bathroom required a rest break.

When I returned to work on Tuesday, October 10th, I was masked up and walking so slow I would have lost a race to zombies. All my other symptoms were mostly gone and my sense of smell had returned, but I was still struggling to breathe and needed many breaks. When I was told to go home halfway through the day, I decided I should go to Urgent Care. So I headed to the VA and was prepared to be told I was just being a baby (in nice, polite medical terms, of course), and just needed time and rest. That is not what happened and I got very scared when they opened up the exam room door with a wheelchair and told me they were taking me down to the ER, where I was admitted and started a battery of tests.

By the end of it, they confirmed my Covid diagnosis (I was still showing positive) and while my chest x-rays were clear, I was clearly struggling to breathe. Five medication prescriptions later, I was discharged with instructions to continue to work from home, and finish out my medications. 

By October 14th, I was Covid negative, but still struggling with fatigue and breathing. It's the 27th today, and I've only been inhaler free for about two days. But I've started running again.

Well, to be accurate, I've started a run/walk program, as if I've never ran in my life. I am starting over as though it wasn't me that completed those marathons. I put the medals away, which has helped remove the internal pressure telling me that I can just pick up where I stopped. My feet don't hurt after my couple of runs, though I can feel a little tightness, which I carefully stretch out. I stretch my calves and feet a few times a day now.

I have the lofty goal to run the OKC half marathon next year. I've carefully picked out my training plans and I think it is doable. 

Losing the ability to do something as simple as walk to my bathroom scared me. I've let my health and fitness lose importance in my life and after a scare like this, I'm determined to take my health back. So I'm starting over. I'm only 37 and I am plenty young enough to start again.