Who am I?

 

Years ago, blogging was the in thing.  Everyone had a blog.  People wrote things that were funny, or insightful, or they just simply journaled.  I threw myself into the ring and used my blog for all of the above.  Then Facebook came along.  Within months everyone ditched their blogs and jumped to Zucker's space and then eventually all kinds of other social media platforms.  I did the same.  However, the last several months, I am feeling the pull back to my own spot on the www.  I enjoy writing.  I like pounding out my thoughts or experiences in a much longer form than that of a few characters that other places allow.

So I made the New Year goal in 2022 to get back at it.  Go back to what I really love and journal in a place that doesn't prohibit me from expressing my true feelings and if, God willing, my children or grandchildren ever want to know the REAL me, they can come here and find it.

How often will I write or share?  I don't know.  Regularly I hope.  Enough to satisfy myself.  And except for a short period in time about 11 years ago, I keep my blog public.  If someone stumbles on it and finds it amusing, great.  If they find my words on a particular post inspiring, even better.  If they hate every word I ever type, so be it.  Whatever.  Am I the best writer?  HAH!  Far from it, but I like using my words the same way I speak soooo.... there's that.

Some thoughts rattling around my brain the past two days:  Back in August 2021, I had an appointment with my sports med Orthopedic doc that changed my life.  I have recently been diagnosed with "severe osteoporosis" and been dealing with some foot pain that isn't going away.  He told me that running was no longer an option for me.  I'm at too much of a risk for more stress fractures, or worse a fall that could be devastating.  I cried a lot.  Took months to process and tried to come up with a new normal.  I've started intense daily treatments for the osteoporosis, walking, using my stationary bike and wearing a weighted vest for weight bearing exercises.  All trying to stop the bone loss and encourage new bone growth.

As runner for most of my life, being told no more is crippling.  However, I changed my mind set and decided I could volunteer at my favorite trail races, and maybe speed walk a few of the shorter distance races.  Cool. Great plan mCat.  So with this mind, I registered with my running tribe for the traditional St George Half marathon.  My plan was to build up time on my feet and speed within the walking parameters.  Enter the holidays, between sickness, time constraints and overall stress, I didn't get the work done.  I have found I can get to about 6 miles before my feet are unbearable.  So sadly, when we got down to St George and checked in for our packets, I transferred to the 5k instead.  What a loser!  When you've been ultra distance running, a 5k feels like a big fat nothing.

St George sunrise

Saturday morning came around, we drove to the start line, got our picture together and then my girls started.  15 minutes later it was time for the 5k.  I meandered over to the start line chute and gradually walked forward to a comfortable place in the crowd,  Started loosening the legs, started my music, got my Garmin ready and reminded myself to just walk.

I love these women like my sisters.  Brenda, Joni and Mindi

Whelp.  The race started, and damn if I didn't start running.  I literally couldn't help myself.  I started talking to myself to adjust fire.  If I ran the whole thing, best case scenario was I would give myself shin splints.  Worst case scenario was.. I don't know.  I don't know just how bad my bones are, all I know are numbers from a dexascan and the diagnosis.  I could fracture something.  So I willed myself to walk.  I was miserable.  Now I needed to adjust fire again.  What is a workable plan I can live with?  I allowed my self to run a tenth of a mile, then walk two tenths.  I did this for the whole 2.75 miles and then I was like "to hell with this" - and ran to the finish.  Only 3.10 miles.  That's usually a warm up for me.  My friends wouldn't be done for another hour and a half at least so I decided I would walk some more and try to get more miles.  But first I'd check results.  You see, I moved into a new age category, so the odds of placing in my age group rose.  The last several years, I have taken first or second in my age group.

Well damn if I didn't place 3rd!  Okay, only 4 in my age group, but hey!  There was a cool award that came with it. I called Splenda Daddy laughing and told him my good fortune, but also had to confess that I cheated and ran some of it.  I collected my prize, took it to the car and then walked the course backwards until I could get the miles I felt okay about and that my feet would tolerate.

My girls finished, we changed clothes and headed home.  Another weekend, another race with my besties.  This is the life I love.  However, as I noticed their fatigue and sweaty bodies, I felt so left out.  So unfulfilled.  So jealous.  So sad.  I've set a goal that if I can get myself out of the "severe" category, I'll let myself run again.  Stick to my treadmill and the trails that are softer than the road and go back to enjoying what I love.  But that didn't help this weekend.  That's months away if not another year.  It didn't help the grief I was feeling.

As I drove home I kept thinking of the way my life used to be.  Running every day.  A race every weekend.  The adventures of training and exploring new places to run or race.  The highlight of the Boston marathon I ran in 2014.  The exhilaration I felt after finishing my first 50 mile race.  The ice baths I would take, the massages, the hundreds of running shoes I've retired over the years.  The friendships that I have made through the running community.  Becoming a certified coach.  Running has defined me.  It has been my life.  Actually, just being active has been my life, since I did many triathlons and century rides over the years.

And now what am I? An old lady who has health issues?  A washed up has-been?  That's what I feel like.  But no.  I am not those things.  I am more than that.  I'm still trying to define what that is but I know I am more than that.  I'm a lot of things, but old and washed up ain't it.

I think that's my quest for 2022.  Find out what those things are.  Beyond the obvious - wife, mother, Mimi, daughter of God.  I have more in me, and I'm going to try and find out what they are and cultivate them.

So cheers to the new year.  Cheers to finding ways to stay involved in the running world without wallowing in my grief.  Cheers to finding new talents and passions to add to my life.   Cheers to you.

Traditional Beaver chair picture

Onward and Upward my friends.

xoxo

mCat