67: Insubordinate! (4M Run)

I broke my promise to the doctor. I was told what to do and I said I'd do it. I have been doing it. But something snapped in me today, and now, I've become an insubordinate.

I just couldn't stand it any more. I had to run. Here was my rationale. I am seeing the doctor tomorrow. He'll either tell me it's OK to run, in which case I'm just a day ahead; or, he'll tell me it isn't OK to run, and then fuck him, I'm not going to do what he says anyway. I've been feeling too blue and I just can't go on writing about ice anymore. It's killing me!

I marched over to the treadmill, defiant, and pressed the buttons. It felt foreign to be up there. How does something become unfamiliar in only 30 days? I last ran on August 1.

I told myself I would run for 10 minutes if I could, and I went. I began slow and steady at 5 mph. I started turning pink but I was comfortable. Almost immediately I slipped into a zone that used to allude me for miles back when I was training hard. I'm running again, I thought... it isn't all gone forever... and a rush of relief poured in. My throat tightened and I felt tears of joy squeeze up. I controlled myself though so I wouldn't lose my breathing.

I went 10 minutes, and then 2 miles and then 30 minutes and then I really had to set a limit. Four miles would be it. Not only was I tired, but I didn't want to over-do it. Slowly I'd progressed my speed to 6 mph, and then 7, and by the end I was doing strides at 7.5 mph. I finished gasping for air and nauseous. Oh, just like old times!

I cooled down for 5 minutes at the end and then had to peel myself off the machine as thoughts of "maybe one more mile" crept in. Was my foot hurting? Yes, like a mother. Burning, twitching, barking - mostly on the top this time, not the arch. But I was so "high" at the end that I didn't care.

I was elated, swirling in a soupy slurry of hope, relief, and reconnection with myself. I don't know why but my inner vision clouded over for a moment or so with a montage of heroine scenes from movies like Trainspotting and that great episode of The Sopranos when Michael Imperioli overdoses. I went to the elevator and pushed the up button, music playing in my mind, The Velvet Underground with, "I don't know just where I'm going. But I'm gonna try for the kingdom if I can."

I am, you know. No matter what that doctor says to me tomorrow, I'm going to try for the kingdom. So I'll take Advil for the next two months. And ice after every run. And all day and night. And bind my entire foot up. And keep it elevated 24 hours a day.

Let the doctor tell me what he will. This drug is too good to put down. It took me 100 days to make running a habit; but apparently, it only took me 30 to realize it's definitely more than that - running is an addiction. How could something that feels so bad, feel so good? All I know is, right now, I'm in a fix.