Runner, ID'd

More than a year has passed since I began running regularly and seriously. Only now, after injury and a doctor's visit, do I feel I've truly joined the runner's club.

Dancing has always come naturally to me, but I've always, very confidently, viewed myself as a "non-athlete." Exhibit A: In middle school, under peer pressure to make my spectacled, shy little self appear "cool," I ignored my parents' raised eyebrows and joined the modified soccer team, only to drop out after one practice because all the shouting and flying objects turned me into a nervous wreck.

I was that kid who was always picked last for the basketball team during gym class, the one who shuffled behind everyone else when they made you run the one loop around the track.

My little sister, the avowed athlete of the family, has beaten me in every sport or game we've played together since she was 5. (I'm 10 years older).

But now I've gone and turned into a Runner, y'all.

I left Tuesday's orthopedic appointment with a diagnosis of patellofemoral pain, instructions to see a physical therapist, and a hefty knee brace that is intended to prevent my knee cap from irritating and inflaming the soft tissue in my knee when I run. The pain syndrome is common in women runners, especially those who have "huge" quads, like myself -- which a glib doctor was kind enough to point out to me. 

Weak sartorius muscles are the culprit of my patellofemoral pain, I was told. Also, running straight down that twisting, horrible gravel hill at the Cross Country Classic in October might have had something to do with it. Argh, hindsight. Someone please get me Running for Dummies for Christmas.

Anyway, despite the fact that I need to educate myself further to avoid future injury, going to the ortho appointment also delivered to me a dose of affirmation that yes, I love, want and need running to feel good. And I will continue to stick with it even though the going is slow right now.

It's been awhile since I've felt that way about any one activity that
a.) is healthy
b.) is a self-identifier, and
c.) is completely within my own control. 

Fortunately there are no balls, bats, or throwing involved in this sport. Just the occasional snot rocket (still gotta learn how to master that technique), chafed arm pit and black toenail.

Distance running is lovely because of its solitary nature (running socially is an option, not a requirement) and also gritty because it can be the ultimate test of both an individual's mental and physical strength. 

This is all fine and good, right? But let it be noted, I did not miss the key lesson of this injury experience: cross-training, stretching and pacing oneself = good, to put it lightly.