I bought a ridiculously overpriced girly running skort last summer as a "reward" for having survived neck surgery (survival apparently wasn't enough, I needed a pressie, damn it). The reward wasn't actually for surviving the surgery, it was for surviving the 3 months post-surgery with no exercise. I was allowed to walk, but no running or gym visits for 3 months. I did what I was told and followed every command given to me by my neurosurgeon. I didn't think I would ever run again.
Before my first run, I was consumed with irrational worry. Creepy thoughts like, "What if I go for a run, and I trip, and land on my head, and the screws in my neck get all wonky?" Seriously, looking at the x-ray of my neck, after the surgery, made me feel strange and anxious, like I now have to take care of this piece of plastic holding my C5 and C6 together. It could come undone, work its way loose. My head could fall off! Snap like a twig.
My hysteria wore off when I took my first run. It was a little baby trip. Half of a lap around the lake, just over a mile. The next trip was a full lap around the lake, 2.5 miles. I've said it before, I don't run fast, and I don't run far. My form isn't pretty, but it's consistent.
Six months after my surgery, I ran my first race, a 4-miler (4 on the Fourth, July 4th). In October, I ran my first 10K. On Thanksgiving morning, I ran an 8K. During the long-ass winter this year, I ran 3 days each week at the gym on the treadmill, a minimum of 4 miles, at a steady pace. Two weeks ago, I ran a 5K with a friend, my first race since November.
Yesterday, on a fantabulous spring Sunday morning, in that overpriced girly running skort (which is now a size too big), I ran the best run of my life. 5 miles, two laps around the lake. It wasn't my longest distance or my best time, but I was my most steady and confident, post-surgery, and it was perfect.
--Amphitrite
