a new kind of training plan

It's been exactly one month since my surgery.  It both seems like it's been that long and feels as though it was just yesterday.  And I can't believe that next week is October.  I have completely missed September this year.  Actually, I feel stripped of September this year.  At least of the one I was supposed to have.  No last trips to the beach.  No taper runs.  No trip to Germany.  No marathon.  No leading trainings at work.  It feels weird to have had a whole month planned and then it just didn't happen.  At least, it feels like it didn't happen.

This week, I finally moved back to my apartment.  I started working from home.  I made myself breakfast, lunch, and dinner...well, most days.  Going out to eat in the middle of the day never gets old!  My medical leave is ending.  And yet, I am still limited in my movements. I'll feel just fine but then move a certain way that I used to in my own house, and I'll feel a twinge and remember.  Monday was my first day working from home as a start to a slow return to full time work.  I worked on the computer for three hours, took an hour break, worked one more hour, and promptly took a nap.  Whew!  I'm still not used to this new baseline where I don't have as much energy as I am used to.

I want to just return to my life and it's slow in coming.  Small pieces are falling into place, but it feels weird to me when only one part returns and not the rest.  I am walking further distances and I am more assured in my steps, but it's not the same as running.  I discovered that everything in my apartment is set just a bit lower than at my parents' house so not bending over takes more thinking that it had been while I was staying with my parents.  I feel ok reaching up on my right side but not reaching down on my right side.  Good changes that point to healing but just when I think I'm "there", I realize I'm not quite.

This past Sunday was the Berlin marathon and I was so sad not to be running.  I know that most people wouldn't feel sad about not running a marathon, but I was.  My parents were so validating as I shared this emotion and reminded me that for me, this experience was a trauma.  Not only for my body, but for me emotionally.  My diagnosis came so quickly and in less than 24 hours, all my athletic, fundraising, and travel plans for August and September were cancelled.  All of my training seemed for nothing.  The thing about long distance racing is that it's not the race that's the hardest thing, it's the training.  The race is fun and celebratory and tough in it's own right.  But the training, that is what takes it out of you.  I participated in all of the difficulties of training and planning but didn't participate in any of the excitement or celebration.  That is sad.

At one of my follow-up appointments, my surgeon reminded me that my body is running it's own marathon right now as it heals.  I'm trying to think of my healing in this way.  I can't just run 26.2 miles the day I sign up.  I have to put in the effort of training for months in order to get there.  So right now, I'm one month in to a new kind of training.  I'm training myself to go easy on my body instead of always pushing.  I'm training myself to call it quits at work and take time to rest.  I'm training myself to listen to my body and rest when I need to.  I'm training myself to be ok with relying on others when I need it (believe it or not, this is very hard for me!).  So instead of building mileage, I'm building a new kind of strength to return back to a level I used to be.

I have been faced with disappointment before and I think that I have a pretty good set of coping skills to deal with it.  But this was a big one.  And moving on has been tough.  But I'll get there.  One training day at a time.