You cannot sprint off into the pace and distances you left before the injury.
You cannot run like the past weeks, months, and pounds never happened.
It is OK to be winded and weak and dying. It is OK for the pain to still crawl up the back of your leg and nestle firmly in the root of your hamstring.
You are still recovering.
Do not make it worse.
Breathe. Just run. Gently. Just enjoying being able to run. A little.
You’ll get back, just like you have before. Running will still be there.
Baby steps. Baby little zombie turtle wogs.
Take what you can get. You will find the float again some day. You will sprint again some day.
Today, calm down.
I am trying to be good. I am trying SO HARD to be good. I am trying to run infrequently, short distances, and slowly. I am trying to modify barre classes to avoid the exercises that aggravate my hamstring. I am trying to not work out every day or twice a day.
I am trying to temper myself. So far, I think I am managing to tame my obsession, but I am struggling on the mental side of it.
I feel that itchy, uncomfortable anticipation experienced in the race chute all the time. Those terrible last seconds before the start gun. Those wretched little pregnant eternities. Yet I feel that all the time. Restrained, held back, contained. Like I’m coming out of my skin.
Getting back to some exercise has helped, but babying the leg still gives me this trapped feeling. The benefits I glean from exercise come from pushing myself to my brink, from making it hurt until the endorphins wash over my brain. I can’t do that yet, so I’m just left feeling perpetually unconsummated.
I’m trying to think of this as an investment in my body. I am trying to process it as purchasing health on the other side of this injury. Yet, with my mental balance in free fall, I am finding it challenging to sell these ideas to myself.
Patience. Breathe. Calm down.