bursitis

Comeback postponed

I’ve been good, like really good. Despite desperately wanting to, I haven’t run, not once. I’ve painstakingly crushed those urges and longings that fill me every time I lace up a pair of my sneakers, or read a Facebook post of a favourite running chick coming off a medal-worthy run, or see those head-to-toe Lululemon girls running down the boardwalk. Why? Because Dear Physio told me to. Early on in the pregnancy, when I was still dealing with the shoulder injury I got while running (you know, the night I found out I was pregnant) Dear Physio, who I swear has magic shooting through his fingertips, warned me that my already unstable hips would likely take a serious beating in childbirth, and if I wanted to run injury free, post pregnancy, I would be wise to heed his advice and make it a slow (and by slow, practically non-existent) comeback …

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Naked runner

Dear readers, I need your help, advice actually. But I’ll get to that in a moment. First, I need to express a little something here: Yippee! Hooray! Hourra! Wonderbar! Jupiiii! Urra! Hallelujah! Oh how I have missed you dear sneakers. I went for a run after work yesterday, just a short one, a painstakingly slow one in fact, and the whole time I was freaking out about my knee. I hadn’t run in 24 days, and as a result I knew my body would be rigid, un-flexible, and my head would likely be mimicking that of a bird’s with my shoulders scrunched right up into my ears. So, I stripped down my friends, ran completely naked … well, the runner’s equivalent of naked that is. No Garmin. No iPod. Just me, my sneakers, shorts, technical shirt and hat. Ahhh, so exhilarating ­čśë No ear buds, no Garmin. I purposely went …

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Release me

This morning my alarm blasted at 4:30 a.m.. For some reason I had booked a physio appointment for 7 a.m. Take note, my physio is located in the valley. On a good day, that’s 45 minutes away, but more likely an hour away. I probably could have got away with another 15 minutes of sleep, but I did not want to take any chances with being late for this appointment. I’d been waiting three weeks for this date, there was no way I would screw it up by being late. I walked through the door and the first person I saw was Dear Physio. He had a quizzical look on his face, but I just figured it was early. I walked up to the receptionist. We don’t have you on the list, she says. What? I booked an appointment, I made it three weeks ago. She looks in her computer… …

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