I started my physical therapy journey in the hopes of running right, running straight, running period. Little by little, layer by layer I am peeling back the years of abuse to find the core of what’s right. It’s been a tough mental battle, but I won’t back down. Every day I that I spend lying on that PT table and Mr. Muscles is kneading my leg to screaming I think about what got me there. I’ve confronted the sights, sounds, touch and taste of That Night but this is the first time I am staring down the aftermath. For real.
I never wanted to really think about why my hip could pop on command. I never wanted to admit that the sharp, shooting pain in my groin was somehow related to That Night. I never counted on the pain inflicted 23 years ago to be able to hurt me now. It is taking everything I have to face the anger of what was taken from me. Still. But I can’t back down.
I ran last night and, for the first time, found I was afraid of me and myself. My heart felt like it could lurch right out of my chest and, according to my monitor, its rate was out of control. 186bpm. Normal resting rate is 61-64 and run rate is 165-172. I had to slow down and really listen to what was going on. I ran with with wild thoughts – was it the murmur? High blood pressure? High cholesterol? Could I have a heart attack right here and now? I was being completely fatalistic but realistic. Something wasn’t right. After 35 minutes I called it quits. 3.26 miles.
Tonight is 45 minutes of walking and core work followed by an hour of yoga. I’m thinking during core I will have plenty of time to assess the situations. All of them. Yoga will allow to to clear my head of those assessments and wipe the slate clean. One thing remains. The courage to go on. I refuse to back down.