I got lost. I was running with a bunch of other runners, I had a map in my hand. But I got lost. What started as a relaxed, peaceful run turned ugly but it has made me reflect on my attitude these past few weeks.
When my running friend informed me that she would not be able to run, I still decided to head out with the rest of the running group, knowing full well that they were all way faster than me and would most probably run off after the first km. I still thought I was fine. Map in hand. Off I went.
It was when I got passed 7.5kms that I started to worry. Where was the turnaround point? Was the map right? Why was I stuck on such a busy main street? Where were the other runners? I couldn’t see any of them so I decided I’d better head back the same way I’d come. But somehow, I got it wrong. I took a wrong turn and landed up in the dodgiest of streets.
My gut told me things weren’t right. I suddenly felt scared, alone and incredibly vulnerable. All I wanted to do was cry. I started to blame others; the faster runners for not waiting, KK for not being with me; my gammy knee which had started to ache; pretty much everyone got a swearing. But most of all I blamed myself. I hated that I found myself in that helpless situation. I hated the fact that I ran so slowly and couldn’t keep up with anyone else. I hated running and I had no idea where I was going.
It’s been two weeks since the incident and I’ve spent lots of time reflecting on that day. A lot of what I went through feels so familiar to how I’m feeling at the moment. I’m lost. I don’t know if it’s just the end of the year fatigue setting in, but I’m not myself.
It feels as if I’m still out there on those streets with my body filled with anguish and confusion. It feels as if nothing is familiar. The more I run, the less I see. The faster I go, the further everything feels. I’m not myself and my map is not helping me. I’m blaming everyone else for my lose of direction. I’m irritated with everyone, including myself.
I’ve lost sight of the goal. I’m lost. I need to find my passion again and I’m glad I’ve stopped to realise it now before it’s too late. Instead of blaming and allowing the situation to overwhelm me, I need to take back control.
This past Sunday I went out for a long run. Compared to the previous week, my head was right. I was prepared. I loved my run. Every single minute of it.
Its called runners amnesia, the wonderful ability to forget the sweat, blood, tear and fears and go out and run again and again and again.
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I love this!!!
This story is way scarier than you’ve let on here and I’m sorry you had an experience like that. But from the ashes, the Phoenix rises. Glad you’ve had some time for good introspection. May you rise again.
Thanks Brenda. Yeah, I need to learn what I can from it and like you say, rise again. So many lessons we learn from running…
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