So, no updates here for about two and a half months. Largely because there has been no running for me.
The foot injury I mentioned refused to get better and, being a bloke, I chose to wait it out and so it was another month and more before I sought medical attention. During this time, I hardly ran at all but had a few other bumps along the way.
The short story is: I got a stress fracture in my foot. When the same foot was later squashed, that turned into a proper fracture.
So, I’ve been doing even less running (um, zero actually) while I wait for the break to heal. A couple of weeks ago, I was cleared for cycling. I’m not a fan but it’s a way to recoup a little of the endurance fitness and so I persist. This weekend, I plan an experimental foray into running. Perhaps as much as a kilometre. If that goes well, I just know the difficulty will lie in keeping progress slow, managed and steady. The temptation to do otherwise will be enormous, though.
Hmm. Time for a subject change. Want to go run. Now.
This is why I haven’t blogged much. It’s like having a particularly persistent mosquito bite. Leave it alone and you always know it’s there. But scratch it at all. Even just touch it lightly. Once. And suddenly, there’s an all-consuming need to scratch that itch.
During the intervening weeks, I took a friend to her first marathon. An event, in fact, that I had been going to run in myself. She repaid my kindness by blasting out her debut in 3h31m. Some people; no consideration. ;-) Mind you, it wasn’t so hard to decide not to run that day. I could hardly walk at the time and even hobbling around from point to point offering support nearly finished me.
Which brings me (finally) to the title of this post: Just recently, I have actually started to dream about running. Not sanitary-towel-advert, super-idealised running. Just running. Running in the sun, in the rain, in the snow. Running on roads, paths, trails and across fields. Running up hill and down dale. Everything, now I come to think of it, except running on a treadmill.
The dreams don’t have a prologue. Nor do they bleed out into some kind of weird metaphorical horror involving seabirds, soylent green ice cream and a very large aspirin. (I really don’t want to have that one again, I can tell you.)
And during my waking hours, I keep thinking about just getting back after work, putting on a pair of shoes and setting off for a few hours. Every day that it rains, I think about running tomorrow. And when it doesn’t, I think about running today. I want to run so much that I can almost taste it.
Soon. Soon, my oh-so-neglected running shoes, we shall be reunited on the trail.
Yes. Yes, we will.