What if I Stop Running?

It's been a tough few years for me as a runner: Crohn's problems, knee surgery, a busy job. After 22 half marathons, four marathons, and dozens of 5ks and 10ks in 13 years, I've slowed down significantly in the last two years. At first I thought it was just a motivational crisis, but as I try desperately to get back to at least half marathon shape, I find myself struggling seemingly beyond simply motivation. 

The last few months I've been wondering: what happens if I stop running? What if I stop trying to get back to half marathon shape? What if I stop stressing about the fact that I'm not in shape to run more than a 5k? What if I just don't want to run more than 3.1 miles? Isn't that okay?

I miss race day. I miss lining up with thousands of people and the buzz of a starting line. But I can get that with a decent 5k, and my body will be happier with me. In the last few months I've been boxing and cross training. I'm not as skinny as I was when I was running, but my workouts are more fulfilling at this moment. Running used to be my happy place. Right now it isn't.

It's a hard shift. I love running, but my schedule coupled with the limitations of my body (that I'm forced to confront) have made it challenging to fit in. It's made it challenging to want to fit in. I'm so busy that I don't want to spend weekend mornings away from my family. I don't want to wake up before dark and churn away on a treadmill. 

Last weekend I ran my second 5k of the year. It was the inaugural Izzo Legacy 5k, and we went to a VIP reception before the race where my husband got to get a photo with Michigan State's beloved basketball coach Tom Izzo. It was a fun reception, and the race was a beautiful course on MSU's campus along the Red Cedar River.

The race made me realize I am absolutely not in running shape. I pushed through a respectable 27:22, but later that day I felt like I ran a half marathon. My body was so exhausted. Later that day I developed a migraine and assumed it was dehydration. 

I didn't used to be this relieved to be done with 3.1 miles. 

On Sunday my migraine was legit. I alternated taking Excedrin and Motrin. I massaged tiger balm into my temples. No relief. I took two naps. No better. It felt as though my head was going to explode. 

On Monday I got up for work with the headache still raging. I called my doctor who managed to get me in that morning. I got an injection of an anti-inflammatory pain killer. My blood pressure was very low. My doctor started lecturing me about getting at least eight hours of sleep. I did what any normal chief of staff would do: went home and ate lunch and then headed back to the office until 10 pm. 

Tuesday morning I woke up at 5:30 am (which is less than eight hours after I got home for those of you playing at home). I pulled into the parking garage at work at 7:15 a.m. I felt like an absolute zombie all day. You know what I hadn't thought about since Saturday morning? Exercising. More specifically? Running.

So what if I give myself a break right now? Sure I'm not logging that many miles, but for all the miles I'm not logging I find myself worrying and beating myself up over the miles I'm not logging. Maybe I just say that for right now I'm not running. Maybe the occasional 5k. Maybe the occasional quick run to dust off the cobwebs. But right now I do not have time to log real miles unless I wake up at the crack of dawn and make time. And how will I fit in 8 (okay who am I kidding...6) hours of sleep? 

I've identified as a runner for the last 13 years. Running is my therapy, my sanity, and what makes me feel normal. But for right now I need to make the hard admission that running is not a priority. I'll get it back. I know I will. But my mental health (including sleep, managing my schedule, getting up to snuggle with my son) has to come first. It's not you running; it's me. And this isn't a break up...we're just on a break.