Coming back from an injury is a humbling experience.  After one of those injuries that wholly derailed whatever course you sought to chart, you might find yourself gasping for air after a 20-minute run.  In those moments, it is hard to tell whether your body or pride is more uncomfortable.

    I recently found myself at this juncture, where excitement and dread collide, after an accident added insult to a chronic oveuse injury.  As patterns of this spring would have it, I happened to get hit by a car while riding my bike to work; and contrary to my insistence that I was fine, my body needed to heal from those impact injuries I sustained.  After time off, my excitement spawned from the idea of being able to get out the door to run and my dread bubbled up from the physiological facts of inactivity. 

    Thoughts about the workouts I did not complete, the races I did not finish (let alone start), and the times I did not hit festered to some degree in the back of my mind, but much like with the [relatively very lucky and not serious] accident, I barely had a split second to respond.  Something clicked.  Contrary to how injuries undoubtedly diminish the competitive collegiate runner’s oft-self-absorbed identity, my schedule was sufficiently jam-packed that I could not skip a beat.

    I could almost hear my Achilles and knee muttering, “Take a hint.”  So, coaching high school track revealed significant learning moments.  Spectating burned subtly; but sitting back provided a unique perspective.  Icing required I sit still.  Directing the Cleveland Community Field Project enlivened my determination. 

    I poured energy into endeavors to which I’d been previously committed; and I could not help but realize four lessons I hadn’t had truly to re-learn for a couple years.  First, control evades not just the compulsive distance runner but the entire human race.  Second, reason is hidden in apparently random orders of happenstance.  Third, over-extending one’s commitments renders them all moot.  Fourth, running enables feeling alive – whether that life is ridiculously out of shape.