1/8/2020 0 Comments Attitude is everythingWhen I flipped open the January/February 2020 issue of Canadian Running this past weekend, I was dismayed to see that the editorial was titled, “Winter: The Spinach of Running Seasons.” Now personally, I love spinach, but this poor leafy green isn’t usually invoked to get people all fired up about whatever it’s being compared to. As I read further, my fears were confirmed. The gist of the article was that winter running is a miserable, “bone-chilling” affair requiring “a dose of grit and a dash of insanity,” only slightly mitigated by the benefits of calorie-burning, warding off the winter blues, and being more awake than the rest of your family members upon your return to the blessed (heated) indoors. And this was in a CANADIAN magazine!
Now, I’m no fan of the cold (see here), but while I’m the first one to extol the benefits of winter running (see here, and here), right now I’m recovering from an ankle injury (see here), and I can’t run at all, not indoors or out. So this article got me right in the feels, because I have literally been crying about my inability to run, and I’d love to have the opportunity to freeze my butt off while slogging through the snow, thank you very much, you whiny, entitled Canadian Running editor! I was so mad I couldn’t even read the rest of the magazine. But then I had to take a step back (a figurative step — my ankle is not stepping anywhere) and examine my own attitude. Here I was, mentally berating this man for having a poor attitude, while spewing plenty of whiny entitlement of my own. Pot, meet kettle. I’ve been most upset because this ankle injury crept up on me during the past few weeks (my last run was the Resolution Run 5K on Jan 1st, pictured above), and I’d been stubbornly running sore for a few weeks prior. Now that it’s less than a month to go before the Hypothermic Half Marathon, it’s looking like a real possibility that not only will I not be able to run it, I might not even be able to run down the block. I’ve dredged up all sorts of doomsday scenarios in my head: will I not be able to run the marathon that I’m planning to race this summer? Will I not be able to run even a 5K? Will I never be able to run again? I’ve been injured for only a few weeks. My brain has convinced me that I’m now disabled for life. Now, brain, get a grip. I know how you love to be all glass-half-empty, I know how you love to ruminate on all the worst-cases and could’ve/would’ve/should’ve’s, but you know very well that I am going to run again. Granted, it might not be as soon as you’d like, or as far, or as fast. But if I do my physiotherapy, do my stretches, do the whole Rest Ice Compression Elevation routine, eventually, I will be back out there. And there will always be other races to make up for any that I’ve missed. But, says my brain. But! You’re getting out of shape! You’re missing your running friends! You’ll miss the Hypo Half — you always run the Hypo Half! You’ll miss hanging out with your friends who are running the Hypo Half! You’ll MISS BRUNCH!!! Me: Gah, brain, calm down. Maybe I’ll still be able to run it. Brain: You know that’s a pipe dream. It’s only 3 weeks away and you can barely walk. Me: Shut up, you! Brain: Real mature. Is that the best rebuttal you’ve got? Me: Actually, Ms. Pessimist, that isn’t the best I’ve got. Maybe I can run half of the half. You know, one loop, 10-point-whatever kilometers. I’ll see everyone at the starting line, and hang around the brunch until they’re done. It’ll be fine. Brain: 10K still seems pretty daunting for an ankle that threatens to buckle after walking the kids down the block to school. Me: If I can’t run the race, I can volunteer. Standing outside for hours in the bitter cold sounds way more awful than running in it, but every year, people have done that for me. Maybe it’s my time to give back. I’ll still be a part of the race, I’ll be able to see my buds, and even help them out. Got a problem with that? Brain: Well… I still hope you can run. Me: Me too, buddy. Me too. I should be thanking the gods that I’ve been fortunate enough to run at all: that I’m healthy, more or less able-bodied (a little less than more, these days), that I live in a place that’s safe enough to run and where women are not only permitted to run, but encouraged to, a luxury which definitely doesn’t exist in many corners of the world. I’m lucky enough to have the leisure time to run, and the money to buy fancy winter running shoes and tights and gloves and thermal shirts and pay for race entries. I should be thanking the gods that my worst fear isn’t Where will I get food today? or Will the shelter be full tonight? or Are my children safe? but that it’s only Will my ankle heal in time for a race that really means nothing in the long string of races I’ve run and will run in the future? See? Attitude is everything.
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AuthorKathy Istace runs and races in one of the coldest cities on earth. Archives
December 2020
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