I ran today for the first time in two weeks and two days.  I participated in the Martin Family Tradition of running the Dallas Turkey Trot.  I’ve done this once before, two years ago.  I walked the 3 mile course with Sarah1, Paula & The Girls.

I’ve been sick, as you all well know.  I am voice-less, harboring an upper respiratory infection and not exactly in my top running condition.  Icing on the cake: Sarah1 and I knocked down a couple of bottles of red wine last night at Martin Thanksgiving dinner.  Running 8 miles was a stupid decision, to say the least.  A stupid decision that I purposefully made because I can not back down from a challenge.

Zack ran with me the whole race (despite the fact that he could have easily finished the 8 miles about 35 minutes faster than I did) to encourage me and keep me company.  We kept a nice pace through the 5 mile mark, and that’s when my body started to fall apart.  My left knee developed a very sharp very painful stabbing sensation behind its knee cap.  My hips and butt and inner thighs and EVERYTHING hurt really badly, but it was the knee that finally did me in.  We walked and jogged the rest of the way in to the finish line, after bring joined at about mile 6 by Zack’s dad who we spotted running by us in a crowd.

Now I’m just plain tired.  My legs are pretty sore (which is to be expected), my knee still feels like someone’s trying to pry off my knee cap with an ice pick, and I’ve developed a pretty severe pain in my right ankle–I assume from running weird during the last 4 miles to try to compensate for the knee pain in the other leg.  I didn’t have any panic attacks while we were running, but I did have to breathe my way through some disappointment hyperventilation a few times.  Zack was always quick to remind me that today was a big victory for me, whether I was able to run the whole 8 miles or not.  Six months ago I had a hard time running for 90 seconds in a row, and today I bravely choose to Y right* at the 3 mile/8 mile split.  That alone means a lot — that I feel confident enough in myself to attempt to run for 8 miles.

So sure, I feel like death warmed over.  And sure I’m sad that I got sick and missed my last two weeks of training, and that I wasn’t able to run across the finish line and say, “I did it and I never stopped.”  But that doesn’t mean that I failed.  I just had to change my perspective a little bit.  What I accomplished today was an accomplishment.  A punishing accomplishment that is going to require me to pay attention lest I exceed the maximum daily does of Ibuprofen, yes, but an accomplishment nevertheless.

*Right, not Left. Thanks for the correction, Zip.