I am addicted to running. It is more then just running to me, it is who I am, it defines me. The addiction explains why we obsess over niggles or run through injuries or have endless, and often unproven treatments, just to make sure we can continue to run. In the past when my GP commented on my low resting heart rate or my excellent blood pressure, smugly I would answer - of course it is because I am a runner. Now my resting heart rate is much higher, my blood pressure is low and my body fat is many percentage points higher then when I was running. Can I still claim to be a runner?
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| A feeling of a runners high - a picture I wish I had taken. |
I though I was over my addiction to running until I met Hammer for breakfast last Sunday at Belmoral. He ran the Mosman Reversed long Sunday training run while I went for a short walk to Chowder Bay. I have run the Mosman course so many times and I loved that it always challenged me and I would arrive at the rotunda absolutely spent but euphoric that I managed to do it yet again. Run a long distance in training, over challenging terrain in heat and humidity having chatted to old/new acquaintances along the way. A sense of accomplishment and an achievement of a better me. I did not train because I wanted to win, I just wanted to challenge myself to do the best I can. Never confident in my ability and always testing and pushing what I thought were my limits. The feeling of overcoming my weaknesses would carry me until the next fix.
Being at the finish of Sunday's training run, meeting people I would have run with in the past was a powerful reminder of just what I have lost. Seeing the exhaustion, the satisfied grins on faces and the happy chatter I felt like an outsider standing under the rotunda, I no longer belonged. All I can do is watch but I am unable to connect and there was no camera to hide behind. I could not distance myself, I could not share the joy and I did not wish to be a wet blanket by detailing my 'injuries'. The depth of my despair with my 'injuries' did not belong in this setting. I think it is funny that people still ask how my injury is going. The last person to asked me that question did not wait for an answer but proceeded to tell me how their injury flares up after three and half hours of running. Sweet lord, if only I had an injury like that. Even I can't call what has happened to me a disease as it is somehow and admission of something beyond my control. I refer to it as a condition, it sounds a lot more manageable. According to my logic it OK to be around healthy people when you have a condition but not when you have a disease.
Going to a sea-side cafe for breakfast with Hammer, Matt and Brig afterwards was nice but there were no post-run endorphins to add that extra kick. The following morning I was surprised by hot tears welling up in my eyes and streaming down my cheeks as I recalled my rotunda realisation.
The other end of the emotional yo-yo was the absolute highlight of the year - last week Hammer and I went to see the Sunny Boys perform live as a support act to Elvis Costello - A Day on the Green at Bimbedgen Winery in the Hunter Valley.
For one sweet afternoon, nearly 30 years melted away and once again I felt like an infatuated 21 year old singing along to songs that back then were so profound and had so much meaning. Life was so simple then, but I definitely would not want to go back there. Psychologist Søren Kierkegaard said:
Life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards.
My photography has stalled a bit over the past few weeks. Suffering a shocking flu and endless medical appointments. Good news and sunny days must surely follow.
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| Happy pills ! |
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