I post regularly about events that help me recognize there’s a page in my life that needs to be turned. One of the on-going topics has been the frustration of not being able to exercise the way I want. I had a love-hate relationship with running for the 4+ years I participated in that sport. What I loved was the ease and freedom it afforded me. I also loved the challenge of going further and pushing myself and seeing that I could do more than I thought possible. I loved to run in the rain. On cold mornings and in the heat of a late summer afternoon upon my return from work. I loved how I felt when I ran.
I hated how I felt when I ran. Something always hurt. I pain-free run never happened for me. And every step of progress I made in distance or time was hard fought for. I hated that running didn’t come easy for me like it does for others.
I loved the challenge of it though. I grabbed that challenge and forced myself beyond what I thought my limits would be.
And then I couldn’t anymore. I gave up on physical therapy almost a year ago and have wallowed and wallowed since.
And then I read this and was reminded of why I loved running and why it has to be a part of my exercise future. I made contact with the physical therapist yesterday. I’ll be committed to a physical therapy routine with his assistance for the next couple of months. If there isn’t some marked improvement soon, I’m going to the sports doc and demanding an MRI and surgery. There will be some bicycling as well because that helps strengthen the muscles in a different way.
I absolutely cannot wait until my first run in the rain when I have got to where I want and need to be.
Last week I also started first thing in the morning walks as many days as I can. So, this morning was out on my 2.5 mile walk when I was reminded of something else.
In neighborhoods all over the community I live in, virtually any time of the day, you can see older Sikhs walking. The men with their covered heads, flowing gray beards, and long white tunics. The women, in their colorful, flowing robes. Typically, the men walk alone and the women walk in pairs. Rarely do I see a Sikh man and woman going for a walk together. But, still they walk.
A little over two years ago and a couple of miles from my home, two older Sikh men out for their afternoon walk were gunned down while they took a rest at a bus stop. The perpetrators remain at large and that disgusts me. There are people who know who pulled the trigger and their silence makes them less than human.
This morning I was pleased to see, as I always am, many Sikhs walking in the neighborhood. Walk on. I know I will be.