Will I ever tire of this overhead view of my legs and running shoes? No. Never.
Like my new Brooks Pure Connects? I sure do. They were a Christmas present (as were the fleece-lined running tights). They are the perfect flat, minimalist running shoe designed for speed work, and guess what?
I can't go fast.
I can barely move.
My chiropractor cleared me a week or so prior to Christmas, stating that my hamstrings and glutes felt strong enough to resume my normal running schedule. I wasn't experiencing any pain (my legs just felt tired). My runs were getting better. I thought I was healed.
Last night the pain came back in full force. During mile 1 of a relatively easy workout, I tried to ignore the dull ache that suddenly took over my legs and kept running, but once again it felt like I was trying to run through a pool of Jello-O. I was trying really hard, but my lead legs could not and would not speed up.
I stopped my workout and walked home, crying. I'm partially relieved that Clayton wasn't home at the time because as much as I love his comfort, I just needed a few minutes to have an epic pity party by myself. I laid on the floor our living room, simultaneously stretching my sore legs and sobbing.
The sob session was kind of cathartic. I've been in a funk the past few months for numerous reasons, so it was nice to get all of the bottled up crap out at once. (Funny how that works. One incident can set off a chain reaction that brings up emotions you weren't even fully aware of.) What started out as frustrated tears over my injury ended up being tears about so many other things. It was good to release it.
I can't see my GP until February and I can't see my chiropractor until mid-January. I've been doing absolutely everything she told me to do (stretching, strengthening, foam rolling). I thought I was over this hump. What did I do wrong? What is still wrong?
Ugh. Today is the last day of 2015, tomorrow is the first day of 2016, and I won't be able to run either day. I'm trying not to feel too sorry for myself, but it's hard.
2015 has been an interesting year. It was also a challenging year. I turned 30 (which was fine, but it was still a big deal), obsessed over the decision to change careers and fretted over people's reactions, and I started very slowly rebuilding one of the most important relationships in my life. 2015 wasn't my favorite year by any means, but it wasn't a terrible year. I feel like it had more downswings than I would like (injury, didn't perform as well as I'd hoped in my half marathons, etc.), but it was still way better than when I started going through puberty in 1996.
2015 definitely wasn't all bad. I raced in several 5ks and managed to still place in my newer, faster age group. I finally figured out that parting my hair on the other side totally hides the cowlick on the back of my head. I challenged myself to be more upfront and honest, and just the other day a co-worker commented on how much they admire my gentle honesty in the workplace. I went to Austin, Texas for SXSW and I saw Will Ferrel and met Stacy London and GRUMPY CAT (still not over that). I had the most magical evening EVER rocking out in a sold-out stadium with my best friend and Taylor Swift. I added several delicious go-to weeknight meal recipes to my cooking arsenal. I learned that The Secret Life of Pets was going to be a thing.
2015, I will happily make a toast to you (because of course I have champagne), but I'm much more excited to welcome 2016. It's nothing personal.
Thank you to everyone who stuck with reading my blog for another year. My writing was, to say the least, inconsistent and spotty over the past 12 months. At times I was legitimately too busy to sit down and write for myself, but I mostly suffered from an intense case of writer's block. I haven't been feeling creative (remember that funk I was referring to? It came and went a lot this year.) and whenever that happens, my blog is always the first thing that suffers. I would write several drafts, but ultimately decided that the posts were stupid, too boring, or that my life was too mediocre to capture in writing (which is weird because I once wrote a minute-by-minute live commentary on an episode of TLC's My Strange Addiction with people who shoot coffee up their butts for "health" reasons. I put "health" in quotations because they're lying.). I really hope next year will be different. And I hope you'll keep reading. I want you to know that it means everything to me.
Happy New Year! I hope your year ends with a bang (a safe one) and may your 2016 be blessed.