Farewell to running shoes, for now

Since the exposé of my diagnosis and my best attempt at embracing it, I was surprised (and warmed) by the amount of encouragement and support I received in turn from my readers, most of whom I’ve never even met.  Thank you for your kindness, stranger-friends,  it has brought me strength and boldness I didn’t know I had.

This said strength has led me to make a change I was truthfully dreading, but one that I knew was necessary.

I had to take a break from running.

Dun dun dun

Noooo!  (Insert Jen fit here)

Now, to some that may sound like something only a crazy person would say, who likes running anyway?

Oh yes, I do.  Actually, it had become something of an addiction.

Running has, for me, provided much needed relief at the end of the day wherein I can leave my troubles behind on a trail somewhere and be free from everything and everyone for a blissful 45 minutes.   It has been my therapy for a long time, my glass of wine, my island, my nowhere.

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During the past few months, however, the recent developments in my joints have gradually made it less and less of a freedom and more and more of a painful trial I had to face at the end of the day, leaving my body more broken than it felt to begin with.

While it may seem like an obvious and easy choice to make, it was not. It took more strength to break away from this as I expect one must possess in suddenly discontinuing their consumption of alcohol.

Of course, I wouldn’t know for sure, that is not something I’ve ever tried Really, lets not get crazy now.

In any case, after much ado I finally bit the bullet and began a strengths training program I could do from home instead and put my beloved running shoes on the shelf for now.

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I miss them, no doubt, but the break has seemingly provided some amount of relief. I don’t know that I’d say it’s worth it, but then again I am known to be a bit stubborn.

Ok, a lot stubborn.

It’s been helpful to do something else with my body for a while, as my need for physically exertion must be met in some manner or another, lest I go mad.  I really ought to learn to be more creative in this realm if I am to survive myself.

I think that is the hardest part about Lupus. It’s a fight against oneself, literally.  Your body is attacking your body, serving as both the friend and foe all at once.  It is overwhelming and frustrating beyond measure to be trapped inside the convoluted war-zone it becomes while trying to take care of it.

btlle

“What the hell do you want?” is a question I often hear myself asking.  Of course, there is never an answer.

I think that is why I ran, as I felt it was the closest I could get to escaping my own body, and the furthest I could find from it’s complexity.  I will back to it soon enough, I’m sure of it.