Promises Shwamises

So, I didn’t make it to Doc Fit last Sunday.  I was afraid of aggravating the ITBS, I was exhausted from work that morning, and quite frankly I was simply too lazy to drive all the way to U.P. for a run that I couldn’t even really race in.  Blah…

I did make it to a gut-wrenching yet satisfying dry needling session last Friday.  It successfully loosened up the ITB and tight quads that were pulling on the kneecap.  But, after a 50-minute run-walk-yawn-run-walk-yawn session on the treadmill on Sunday, the injury reared its ugly head again.  Double blah…

I truly think that negativity yields to more negativity and, at the rate I’m going, I may just look at the mirror one day and see a fat, ugly witch (with ITBS, runner’s knee, shin splints, and plantar fasciitis) staring back at me.  So, I’ve made the following promises to myself:

1. STOP RUNNING. Some of you may be saying “FINALLY!”  But, it really did take me forever (three months of running with injury, to be exact) to accept the fact that rest is really the only answer for me at this point.  
2. STOP THINKING ABOUT THE INJURY. Oh, I can’t even count how many times I’ve browsed through my running journal evaluating my training.  How much time I’ve spent researching ITBS online.  How much effort I put into making my own foam roller (using a PVC pipe and yoga mat).  Or, how many text messages I’ve sent to friends for regular injury updates.  That’s it. I’ll just do my stretches, drills, and hope that things improve from hereon.
3. CUT LESSEN JUNKFOOD. No running leads to weight gain.  Once I stop running, the weight just comes crawling back despite swimming and spinning.  I’m currently at what I call my “injured weight”: the number that pops up on the weighing scale once I decrease my mileage and increase intake of chocnut due to depression.  Hopefully, I have enough self-discipline to cut back on my favorite snacks.  I bid you farewell, Cheetos,  Munchies, and Stick-o!
4. BE HAPPY. For now, I’ll just keep myself busy with family, work, spinning and the elliptical. (Can one truly be happy on the elliptical? Blech!)  Oh well, it’ll be fine.  So, I can’t run.  It’s not the end of the world.  Now, if I don’t get to run on the Skyway in Condura Race, that’s an entirely different story!