A lack of control

This week has been a trying one.  I've been fending off the second round of a cold I had 2 weeks ago.  My knee still hurts.  I haven't made it to yoga as much as I'd like to.  And life in the classroom has been a challenge, to say the least.  I haven't been sleeping very well, and I'm counting down the days until Thanksgiving Break...even though the weekend seems to be filling up with more plans than I'd actually like to have.

When I have weeks like these, what bothers me the most is how I feel as though I completely lose my sense of control.  Which is kind of a big deal to me.

I'm a person who needs to be in control.  And when I feel as though I've lost it, circuits in my brain go a little haywire, throwing my emotions, stress level, and ability to focus completely out of whack.

It feels very much like this inside my head.

I realize that having an obsessive need for control is not always the healthiest way to live, but I typically try live with this desire in only the healthiest of ways.  I find that the majority of the time, it works out pretty well for me.  And we all have our faults, right?  This is one of mine.

So when weeks like this happen, when all that surrounds me seems to be spinning into chaos, I have to slow myself down.  I have to decompress, take a deep breath, and remind myself of the things that I can control.  Because, in my life, while there are a lot of things that I can't control, there are also a lot of things that I can.

I can't control which children walk through my classroom door each morning.  I can't control the home lives they come to me from.  I can't control the social, emotional, academic, or physical problems they carry with them.  I can't control whether or not they are sick, or if they got enough sleep last night.  I can't control if they are bathed, or fed, or if they did their homework.

But I can control my reactions to all the baggage they bring with them.  I can stop telling myself "If only things at home would just get better," because more often than not, that won't happen.  I can try my best to make the classroom environment a safe, welcome place for them.  I can try to teach them the best way I know how, working together with children through any struggles that may arise.  I can choose compassion over frustration and anger.  I can choose to smile, even when smiling is the last thing I want to do.  I can choose to try my best, because that's the best I can do.  And when I finally leave the classroom at the end of the day, I can choose to leave those children and all their baggage behind me in the classroom.  Because as much as I love them, I love myself too.  And I can't spend all my waking hours worrying about all the parts of my job that I can't control.

I can't control this slowly creeping chest cold.  When I wake up in the morning, and my throat hurts or my nose is running, I can't snap my fingers and make myself better.

But I can control how I deal with it.  I can drink my Emergen-C twice a day.  I can sip hot tea all day long.  And I can try my best to get enough sleep to let whatever it is that's trying to sneak up on me pass through my body as quick as can be.

I can't control my still-painful knee.  I can't control the pain that radiates down the outside when I run, and sometimes even walk.  I can't make the pain go away by getting angry or frustrated with it.

But I can try my best to work through it and treat it nicely.  I can be a good girl and go to the doctor (PT appointment #2 coming up this weekend).  I can ice it (currently in progress).  I can foam roll, no matter how much it hurts.  And I can choose to run as best as I can, accepting and being happy with what I can do now.  Because I can still go out there and run.  And that is a gift.

I can't control the fact that running as much as I want to isn't a possibility right now.  Running, my solid rock, my stress reliever, my center for control when I feel I've lost it, can't be a huge part of my weekly routine right now.  I can't control the fact that after over a month of little to no running, I feel winded after just a mile or two.  I can't control the fact that running more than 2 or 3 times a week is all I can do.

But I can control what I do instead.  I can keep at it the few times I do make it out to run.  I can rejoice in the fact that those short, easy runs are perfect for getting Lucy back into running shape.  I can find other ways to relieve stress and find my center.  Like yoga.  And writing.  And wine.

And petting this lady.

There are a lot of things in my life I can't control.  Probably about 75% of what happens in my world is out of my control.

But I can control how I react to and deal with those things which I can't control.  I can choose to accept what life throws at me.  I can choose to see good where it doesn't seem like there is any.  Because there is always something good.  No matter how small.  I can choose to let the little things roll off my shoulders.  I can choose to let them go.  I can choose to not get upset about things that I can't control.  Because, obviously, I can't control it.  So why waste all the energy getting frustrated or upset?  The question is, what will I do next now that I'm faced with this situation?  And I choose to breathe deep, relax, and move on from here.  Because there are really only two choices: to get stuck or move forward.  And I choose to move forward.  Moving forward is what I do best.

In the wise words of one of my favorite authors:

~Kevin Henkes

Connections and crossed paths

Remember Donnie Darko?  Aside from the creepy rabbit, I loved this movie.  Especially the ending.  When the world slows down and suddenly Donnie can see all the paths we leave behind.  He can see the strings of our movement through the world, and how they are all infinitely connected.

Can you imagine being in the middle of a dark movie theater and having
this guy suddenly appear?  I would run screaming and crying like a child.

As a poetically philosophical, slightly depressed college student, I loved to think about those paths.  I'd walk the streets of New York City, imagining all of the crossing paths of the people that passed me by.  It comforted me to think of all of the infinitesimal ways that we are connected, even when we don't know each other and fail to notice or acknowledge one another on the street.

I still like the idea that everything is connected.  What we do in this world, the path we take and the choices we make are a result of these connections and become the catalyst for others.  Nothing, and no one, exists in isolation.

So what got me thinking about all of these connections this week?

One guess.

Running!

Surprised?

Last Thursday, after a painful 2 mile run with the Lucy dog, I finally sucked it up and made a physical therapy appointment.  I should have done it sooner, but I'd been secretly terrified that I was going to be told I had a stress fracture (like I did 3 years ago) and would be out of commission for a while.  I didn't want to be out of commission.  But another painful Saturday run only confirmed my decision was a good one, and I strolled into the office just before my 2:30 appointment.

My hour long appointment started immediately with stress fracture talk.  The PT seemed to be slightly concerned that the pain was in the same knee.  She pulled out an ultrasound, which apparently is a quick and easy way to diagnose the existence of a stress fracture.  The vibration causes a deep, sharp pain in the area of the fracture, if there is one.  I held my breath as she turned the machine on and touch it to my knee.

No pain!  Phew.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then we proceeded through an hour of connections to determine where this pain was coming from.  Because if there's one thing I've learned about the human body from running, it's that the source of the problem is typically not where the pain is showing its ugly head.

The PT started at the left outer knee (where the pain is), and worked her way up, deep massaging tendons, feeling for connections.  Before too long, she was measuring distances between my hips, knees, and ankles.  The first thing she noticed was that my pelvis was slightly tilted on one side.  A quick seemingly-chiropractic push readjusted it.

Then she started interviewing me.  "Did you fall down?"  No.  "Are you sure?"  Yes.  "This sort of thing usually happens from a hard fall or sharp impact."  Interesting.  Can't think of anything.  "Have you been in a car accident?"  In my in-the-moment, thinking-only-of-the-recent-past brain, my response was: No.

The PT kept following the connections and wound up finding an extremely tight knot of tendons in my upper right glute.  This didn't surprise me.  That spot always hurt.  For the past couple marathon seasons, after any long run or hard work out, that knot seized up for about a day or 2 after the workout.  I'd sit in the car on my long commute down to Federal Way or on the couch while watching Hulu with my knuckles dug into the spot, trying to release the pain.

But I didn't think anything of it.  This was just post-run tightness.  It always happened.  But as she massaged the tightness out of the space, I realized that I don't think I've felt that spot be completely pain free in my recent memory.  I was just used to it.

And as she kept probing me--"Are you sure you didn't fall down, or step off a stair wrong and impact the floor strongly or something?"  Apparently my tendons were "protecting" themselves from some sort of traumatic event.

Then I remembered this:

April 2010.  I totaled my little Civic on the way to work.

But that was well over 3 years ago.  Which is why I hadn't thought of it.  But Ms. PT's face brightened up when I mentioned it.  That was the most likely culprit.  She said on average it takes about 2 years for injuries like this to show up.

So let's connect these lines:

1)  In April of 2010, 2 months shy of my first marathon, I totaled my car on a dark rainy morning in the middle of Federal Way.  No one, including me, was injured.

2)  Between 2010 and late 2013, I go on to run 5 marathons and 10 half marathons.  Sometimes I get pains in my right upper butt/hip area.

3)  Late October 2013, my left outer knee starts hurting.

4)  Mid November 2013, a PT suspects that my knee pain stems from the pain in my ass, which is probably a lingering injury from a car accident I had 3 and half years ago when my pelvis was unknowingly tilted slightly askew.

Connections.  Some long, stringy pathways that have been winding and twisting their way along for years. 

The final verdict?  After some deep tissue massage and learning some recommended daily pelvis strengthening exercises (that's right, I need to strengthen my pelvis), I was told to wait 24 hours to try running again then come back in a week.

And after that, I started contemplating connections.  And how while some connections are not so good, others can be great.  Like this one:

1)  Early October, Lucy gets her first "senior citizen" check up at the vet.  The vet recommends some glucosamine to give her joints a kick start.  Just a suggestion since she's lost interest in running.

2)  Late October, my knee starts hurting and I stop running.

3)  Early November, Lucy seems a little more energetic.  And I decide to start slowly reintroducing running into our routine.

4)  Neither of us can or should run much more than 2 or 3 miles until we find our stride again.  Which is perfect: we can grow our endurance back together.

5)  Mid-November, we are both out there running together again for the first time in over a year.

Drying off after today's soggy run.

Circumstances crossed, paths made connections in unforeseeable ways, and now Lucy and I are re-attempting running together again.

Today we ran, and while my knee still hurt after about a mile or so, I was a happier runner than I'd been in a while.  Because I had my running buddy back out there on the roads with me, even if she was still slightly unenthusiastic about it.

Turns out, I missed her.

And if getting my running buddy back is the biggest thing that comes out of the knee/pelvis/pain in my butt issue, I'll take it.

It's a connection I'm more than willing to acknowledge and embrace.

Hello old friend

I wanted to run today.

That may not be surprising or earth shattering news to you, but for me it is a massive step towards a path I've been hoping to jump back on for a while.  The mere fact that I wanted to run today means that I might actually be mentally ready to quit this hiatus I've taken from running the past few weeks.

And for me, that's kinda of a big deal.

The past 3 weeks have been, frankly, weird.  I haven't quite felt like myself.  And I've felt a pretty big gaping absence in my life.  I knew exactly what was missing and why I wasn't feeling quite "me," but that didn't make the desire to get out there and run emerge from the recesses of my mind.

I may be sounding melodramatic here, but running started to fade and disappear and feel like an exercise that other people did.  It started to feel like something I used to do, in a different life.  One night late last week, I caught a side glimpse of my race medal rack on the wall and all the race bibs plastered around it...and they didn't feel like mine.  I didn't feel connected to them anymore--as if they were someone else's left behind from another time.

Who put those there?  Certainly it couldn't have been me.

I'm a person who has worked really hard learn how to live in the here and now.  To appreciate where I am and what I'm doing today, and not linger too long on what happened yesterday or may happen tomorrow.  And as I stared at those medals on the wall, I realized that I've truly embraced that "no day but today" mantra (yes, that's a Jonathan Larson reference).  When something disappears from my life, even if only for a short few weeks, it seems as though it doesn't exist anymore.

Running has not been my here and now lately.  Instead I've been hot yogaing my butt off.  Which has been great, albeit different.  Six sessions in the last 2 weeks have been interesting.  It's certainly not easy.  Some days, it feels like I'm making a lot of progress with my flexibility and strengthening.  Then other days, it seems like I can't even make it through half the class.  But I'm growing to enjoy it, now that certain parts are coming more naturally and I don't feel completely lost.

But like I said in my last post, yoga isn't running.  I would love to continue doing weekly yoga, but it could never take the place of running for me.

Last week, as our first Spring Team TNT practice loomed closer, I began to get nervous about running again.  Was my knee ready?  Was my mind ready?  What if my 3 week hiatus wasn't long enough?  What if I still don't quite love running right now?  What if, what if, what if?

Those certainly aren't "here and now" thoughts.

However, Saturday morning arrived, and as I pulled myself out of bed at 6:30am, it was excitement and not dread or fear that I felt.  I wanted to get out there again.  And I think the biggest relief of it all was that there would be no pressure on me from myself.  Because right now, my Saturday and Tuesday team runs are no longer about me.  They're about all the people I'm coaching.

Coach Erica and Coach Tessa, ready help TNT teammates reach race day
safe, injury-free, and happy.

I wanted to get out there and run on Saturday because it had nothing to do with my own mental games.  It was about my Teammates.  And once I was out there, walking and running alongside old friends and new friends, I began to remember why I like being out there.

Just a little bit.

After practice was over, and Team brunch was had, I got home and wasn't feeling quite ready to take my running clothes off.  It had been a while since I'd donned those running tights, and I wanted to see what else we could do together.  So, remembering my one-month no-numbers pledge, I took my watch off and leashed up Lucy.  That's right!  I decided that Lucy was going to give running a try again too.  We could both start back up together.  I knew she'd keep my pace slow and manageable, and I also didn't want to push her much further than a mile or two since it's been so long.

Slow and steady, we went out there and ran.  It was probably no more than 15 minutes.  No more than a mile and a half.  And my knee didn't feel great.  And Lucy was dragging a bit.  But we got out there and ran.  Because I wanted to.  And it felt good to have my pup by my side again.

And then I went to a hot yoga class.  And that was rough.

So I didn't do anything on Sunday (except watch the Seahawks and spend the entire day with friends, enjoying the day).  Carpe Diem.

Then this morning, I woke up feeling good.  I had the day off from work (small aside: thanks to all the Veterans out there--I can't imagine doing what you did...you're braver than I'll ever be).  I intended to have a productive day.  Grocery shopping.  Some crock pot cooking.  Laundry.  Vacuuming.  Hot yoga.  A little bit of school work.

As mid-day approached, and as Lucy's desire to get outside and move began to grow, that strange desire emerged.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to lace up my bright pink running shoes, throw Lucy's leash on her, and go for a loop around Green Lake.

But here's where the voice of smart, intelligent, realistic, and logical Tessa came into play.  I decided not to run.  Because my knee hurt on Saturday.  Because I wanted to relish in this desire to run.  Because as a hunger for running slowly grows in me again, I don't want to quash it with a painful, unpleasant run that could result in an even deeper knee injury.

Instead, Lucy and I went for a long walk.  On a gorgeous 50+ degree, sunny fall day.

I live in a beautiful city.

The walk revived me.  I wanted to run, but I didn't.  And I was grateful for my intelligent choice.  Then when I went to hot yoga, I felt better than I ever have--making it through almost the entire class without needing a break.

Tomorrow I will run again with the team.  I'm excited about it, but still slightly concerned about the condition of my knee.  I might actually break down and make a PT appointment this week.  I figure it couldn't hurt.

Whatever happens though, here's what I know:  Today, I wanted to run.  And even though I didn't actually get out there and do it, I felt more like myself than I have in months.  And I may not be able to run as much as I want to in the next couple of weeks.  But I am thoroughly comforted by the fact that, today, I wanted to run.

And for now, that's going to be enough.