I see a runner far ahead of me zig-zagging up the single track. I push harder. I don't know how else to be when it comes to running. What can I say, it's in my blood. "Go get him" I tell myself. This was supposed to be an "easy" run but now I am full-steam ahead.
I continue flying up the steep and eventually I cruise past the other runner. I am daydreaming. I am thinking about Javelina. I am lost in thought. I envision crossing the finish line and collapsing to the ground. I have tears streaming down my salty face. I get up and say "my job here is done" and everyone cheers. I smile. This is what I dream about.
The single track flattens out and I am all alone. I am running fast. I am running very fast. I hop from rock to rock like a billy goat on crack. I continue to dream. I lose myself.
Suddenly I am jerked out of my dream state when I catch a toe on a rock and I am sent airborne. The amount of time spent in the air couldn't have been more than a few seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. I could easily see that this wasn't going to end well. There was nothing but jagged rock to cushion my fall.
I land hard on nothing but rock. The wind is knocked out of me and I choke. I am dazed. "What the hell..." I mumble to myself, "did I just wreck myself for Javelina?" This wasn't part of the plan.
There is blood pouring out of several large lacerations and I can't feel a thing. I wrap the worst cut up with my bandana and take off. The blood is splattering as my legs begin to turn. I stop for a moment and look down. There is a pool of blood beneath my feet. I laugh.
Instead of cutting it short and turning around, I continue on. Blood pours off my knee as I hammer out 6's coming down the Tram Road. I still feel nothing.
I make it back home and survey the damage. Besides having some pretty gnarly cuts, I am okay. "Damn, dodged a bullet there.." I tell myself, "and hey, I got a few nice scars!" I really am an optimist.
Sore but undaunted, I remain poised.
It's one week until Javelina and I am running entirely too fast down the Tram Road. It's my last training run before the race. I take a step. A step I have taken thousands of times. But it feels different. My right knee is filled with pain. "What is that?" I ask myself as I grind to a stop, "That didn't feel right.." This wasn't part of the plan.
The remainder of my run I limp along. I am bruised-up, cut-up and limped-up. "How could this be?!" I am enraged. "Why does something always have to go wrong?!"
Well, I am not always an optimist..
I toe the line at Javelina feeling like I can't run a hundred yards and I run 65 miles. Is that a failure? I must accept that it was not meant to be. My legs are back and I am blessed to be doing what I love once again. I am more motivated than I have ever been.
This is part of the plan.
No comments:
Post a Comment