Ever see a child playing with one thing, paying absolutely no mind to the other toy across the room, until you take it away and they start screaming that you took someone away from them that they didn’t really like to begin with?
That’s me with running.
After breaking my left ankle and right leg, landing me wheelchair-bound for a few months, the one physical activity I dreamt about (literally dreamt!) was running. Not walking, power cleans (my favorite lift), swimming, or dancing or anything like that. Running. Stupid, sweaty running.
I was never much of a runner growing up. I swam competitively all through high school, so when you put me on a track I was (you guessed it) like a fish out of water. Then in college I found and fell in love with CrossFit and did some occasional yoga and a few triathlons. My friends once convinced me to do a half marathon once, and thanks to a combination of under-training and over-sweating, the race gave me a pretty mean hangover, leaving me nauseated on my mother’s couch for hours after.
But for the past 16 months, running has been something almost mystical to me. And while I may never run more than 10 miles straight, maybe one day I’ll do a 5k, or run the full 2 miles in the CrossFit WOD Murph again. Just maybe…
And so here we are! Here I’ll document my quest for fitness, continuous recovery and healing and any other random stuff that pops into my mind.