Seven Months In

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This is a piece I wrote and submitted to Another Mother Runner in response to their call for essays entitled "Seven Months In: Life and Running Amidst the Pandemic."  So of course it's a bit more autobiographical and about running... but also about the ups and downs of life during the pandemic. Enjoy! 

In these strange times, my emotions have run the gamut from grief to gratefulness and everything in-between.

March 13th. Friday the 13th. When hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes became our new best friends.

The weekend when most everything changed, running remained a constant. I could still lace up and head outside for some mind-clearing and stress-busting miles. 

I was slated to run a half-marathon in June. I imagined it as my “comeback” after a few years off from that distance. But late spring when my depression worsened and my energy dipped, I questioned whether I still had it in me to run that far.

Yet I managed to follow a training plan. I ran that virtual race, and it was fun! I stopped at a friend’s house for water, and my 10-year old son biked along for jokes and moral support.

Then life marched on. June brought an unfortunate accident and cast for my daughter.  That month I also bought a road bike and rediscovered the joys of cycling. The bike was perhaps the best investment of the summer… until it wasn’t!

One early-September morning, I headed out on what I imagined would be an idyllic ride. The kids were sufficiently engaged with virtual learning, so I had an hour or so to myself - HOORAY!!

But not more than 2 miles into the ride, the totally unexpected happened. As I was shifting gears, I glanced down and noticed the seat coming loose. I tried to stop, but it was already too late. My seat fell completely off! As I tumbled and skidded to a stop, my elbow was the unfortunate “brake.”  When I stood up, it became apparent that my elbow was severely out of place.

My husband was working from home, so it was a quick rescue. The x-rays at the ER confirmed a bad break. Surgery was slated for the very next day.  

Soon I was a bit of a wreck. Not just my bones, but my emotions as well. Surgery always scares me. Thank God for the compassionate nurse in pre-op who gently rubbed my back, like a mother would, and assured me that “We’re going to take good care of you.”

Then the rollercoaster: successful surgery; feeling good enough for a short walk the next day; but then a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding; the necessity of a cast.

Then came the swelling, and the realization that I wasn’t going to be able to do much of anything for the next two weeks. Major bummer. I allowed myself a small pity party, but then decided not to wallow.

Yes, biking is out for the rest of the season. I’m not sure when I’ll get back to running. But I still have functioning legs and can get in 10,000 walking steps most days.

Life is utterly unpredictable. But us runners are resilient people. We tenaciously believe that life can get better when we just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Some days that’s all we can do. And it’s enough.

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