There Are Two Types

A friend of a friend who was an avid motorcyclist back in my college days once said, "There are two types of bikers; those who've gone down, and those who are going to."  The idea was crystal clear; you don't ride your bike without "putting it down" at least once.  If you're lucky, you walk away.  If you're unlucky, your first time may be your last time.  In the case of my friend, his first time was his last time, because it was almost his last ride on earth.  After his crash and 24 hours of unconsciousness, a pin in his arm, a horrific case of road rash, and a life saved by a helmet, he scrapped the bike for a car-and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

To me, however, this is a metaphor; it's not just about riding a motorcycle.  You can say this about anyone who does anything with any regularity.  And for me, it's about running.

I'd always known the day would come when I was going to fall on a run.  It was only a matter of time.  I've been running for two years now.  While I exercise 4-6 times per week, my running varies.  In the spring and fall it's almost daily, minimum of 2.5 miles.  In the winter it can be maybe only once a week or once a month, and the rest of the time I'm the hamster on the elliptical :).  Regardless, there are two types of runners; those who've gone down, and those who haven't yet.

Today I transitioned from the latter group to the former group.

Last Tuesday I ran the longest and furthest I'd ever run; 5.2 miles, 55m29s.  Today I wanted to beat that record; I wanted to run 6 miles, approximately 63 minutes at my average pace, nonstop.  It was the perfect day for it.  Low 70's outside, a light breeze, ahhhhhh.  My kind of weather!  I struck out, and on my loop took a street I'd never run.  Halfway down it, the sidewalks disappeared and I was left to run on the shoulder.  Now, those of you who know me know how cautious I am about running.  I like to run on flat, even, level, predictable surfaces.  Not because I have weak ankles (come ON I wear 6" heels all day every day!), not because I can't run on an incline (although it's true, I hate to) but because uneven surfaces = unsure footfalls.  And unsure footfalls = turned ankles.  And turned ankles = 6 weeks on your ass while you recover.  And Lisa does NOT do recuperation gracefully.  So, I was trotting along the shoulder at an easy pace, saving my stamina, about two miles into my run, when sure enough, I landed poorly with my left foot. 

When I was a kid in gymnastics (it was brief, believe me) one of the first lessons we were taught was that when you fall, you should "go loose".  This is why neither small children nor drunks are easily injured in car accidents; they don't have the reflex responses to tense up, which causes more damage than the impact itself.  They're loose.  The minute I felt my ankle give to the left, I let both knees buckle (loose!) and dropped purposefully to my right knee.  I hadn't even hit the ground and I was wondering how much damage I'd done to my ankle.  My boss later commented that the first thing she thinks when she falls was, "WHO SAW THAT?"  It took me a full two minutes to even consider the existence of others.  All I could think about was how bad my ankle might be and whether or not I'd be out for the training season. 

The funny thing about us panicky, high-anxiety types is that, when there's a REAL emergency, we are the coolest mofo's you'll ever meet.  We are literally, constantly in contingency planning mode, so when the real shit hits the fan, we are completely unruffled.  We live our lives PLANNING for this shit.  Roughly sixty seconds after my fall, as I sat gripping my ankle, it occurred to me to stop my stopwatch.  At about the same time my mind divided; there was the worried part freaking about my training, and then there was The Overlord.  The Overlord is the emotionless biotch that kicks in when all hell is breaking loose.  Over the low murmur of my worries she said in an authoritative yet bored voice, "You're FINE.  Check for swelling.  And for pete's sake, quit WHINING."  I pulled both ankles together and did a visual check; they seemed ok.  I pressed into the sore spot on the left ankle, then the corresponding part on the right.  Definite early signs of swelling on the left.  "Get up.  Stretch it.  MOVE.  Don't let it swell." The Overlord intoned.  I got up.  I extended my leg and did ankle circles.  At roughly THIS point it occurred to me that I was a mile from my office with no cell phone, and no one had stopped (gee, did anyone see me fall?   They HAD to have this is a busy street!  Man people are rude!).  I was going to have to walk anyway.  And then my divided mind reconvened; "Do you think I can run on it?" "There's one way to find out, isn't there?" "Let's walk a block."  So I walked.  It wasn't too terrible.  I could feel the pull.  Luckily, for other symptoms I'd taken some ibuprofen before my run.  I reached Sloan's Lake Park, and thought, "Well, you've got 23 minutes on the clock.  You have 40 left to go to meet your goal.  Your energy is great, and you seem to have full range of motion.  What have we got to lose?"  I broke into a trot, somewhat like a dog on a leisurely little jog or a horse cantering.  I felt little darts of discomfort, but nothing horrible.  My stride was definitely affected, but I could run.  But how far?

And that, my friends, is the moral of today's story.  Because there are two types of runners; those who have gone down, and those who are going to.  And there are two types of fallen runners; those who walk home, and those who walk it off, and finish their run.

And there are two types of runners who resume their run; those who compromise, and those who refuse.

And I refuse.

I clocked in my run at 63m18s.  One or two of those minutes was spent sitting on the sidewalk though :)  I ran 5.8 miles, so over my normal average pace, even if you knock 2 minutes off the time, but hey...

How fucking fast can YOU run with a turned ankle?

Better yet...would you have run it at all?

So the next time you're faced with a challenge, ask yourself; "In this situation, there are Two Types of responders; which type am I?  Am I the type who limps home, or am I the type who perseveres?"  Then actively choose to persevere.

As I wrap up this post, I'm sitting in my office, leg elevated, bag o' peas on the somewhat swollen ankle, getting ready to take some more ibuprofen for bed.  It's tender, and it'll need a *little* TLC, but if I rest it well tomorrow, by Thursday I'll be recommissioned :)

The moral of this story is not, by the way, to be stupid, and push yourself beyond your limits.  You DO have to know your body and listen to it.  If I couldn't have walked, I wouldn't have tried to run, and if I tried to run and was suffering horrible agonizing pain...I'd've walked home.

But you never know what you can do until you try!

Today, find out which group you fall into.  Try something you never imagined before.  You may just surprise yourself.  Don't ask yourself if you can.  Don't Think about doing it.  Just Go.

And afterward-RICE! ;)