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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (June 8, 2000)
Posture lessons The obstacle this runner must overcome is not injuries but learning to stand still You ask me if I ever watch ‘The Tom Green Show?” My answer to you is, “Have you ever seen a runner stand still?" March 2, 8p.m.: Racing down Normal Bouletard in a loosely formed pack of six. Wet rain falls steadily on my face and my breath is like white steam from a freight train, puffing out into the cold gray air in quick hard shots. My feet pound methodically and my stride stretches as my legs reach to grab hold of each step coming faster, closing the gap between seconds, time. Closing die gap between two faster runners up ahead in the dark their forms have become black ink smudges against this blurry-eyed runner’s vision. The colors of the city lights and buildings mix and run together, green, blue, red, yel low, pink neon sign in the window. I won’t overtake them anytime soon and we are still five miles away from home. But I will run faster still and feel my lungs expand. I will feel my pow erful legs close die gap with a final sprint at the end when I will sur prise them as I come up fast from out of nowhere. 1 smile as 1 think of the remainders of the pack behind me trying to close the gap on my dark form. All of us sin gle solitary run ners. This is who we are. This is what we do for fun. There was a time when I’d breeze past I young boys with my six-minute miles. They would say their regrets and I would look back and smile at their exasperated strides trying to catch me. Then, one sunny morning, a car hit me as I ran. Pieces of bone cut through my elbow. Shards of glass glit tered around me try ing to lay frame to my body on the street, but I got back up and after surgery, I ran again. Later, there was a time I had a 7:40 mile. Ten miles out in the sleet and rain I would laugh at all the sedentary people driving by in their machines. “Droids,” I thought, “you are all droids.” I taunted as I hurdled thickly plowed mounds of wet snow. Then one evening while laughing, play ing around A with my dogs, I tripped and land ed hard on a wrongly turned ankle. The bone snapped in the mid dle, like two kids pulling both ends of a wishbone. And as I came crashing to the ground all I could do was curse God for ruin ing my upcoming race. Friends told me to be lazy - enjoy the vacation. One even suggested I watch television. Obviously they didn’t know. A runner doesn’t stand still. Today, three months later, I beam at my doctor and say, “I’m training for a triathlon. I could run three miles at the end of the race couldn’t I?” He looks at me, he’s been down this road with me Melanie Falk/DN before and he patiently asks me how soon the race is. “July 16th. Still a month away, plenty of time right?” One look from him and I know the answer. He pats my knee and I know that when he looks at me he is seeing the sickness in my eyes, the desperation. The pain of hav ing to let go of something I love so much. “Listen, you’re a trooper, but you have to take it slow. It’s only been three months.” At this I want to exclaim, “you mean it’s been eternity.” But I keep silent as he continues, “we’ll get you back to speed, but this is not your summer for running, you can bike and swim, but running fast, running far, is out of the ques tion.” I leave his office and some thing finally begins to settle in. I finally realize I cannot be a runner right now. Therefore I have to learn to stand still. Time, I finally realize is not going to speed up for me. I can’t speed up die days die way I kick in a fast sprint down a beckoning hill. The sunset will sink slower now as I walk toward it instead of racing toward its last golden light. I’ve had days and months to wonder if this run ning wasn’t an unhealthy addiction instead of a dazzling love affair. Just to punish myself I pay a visit to The Athlete’s Foot. As I am looking at a running shoe with longing, an eager voice from behind the counter asks me if I am a runner. Instinctively I turn to him and proclaim, “Why, yes, I am.” But I’ve not been a classified runner for over three months now so I add, “well, actually I’m a recovering runner.” But I have to blurt out too, “But I’ll recover, and soon, because I love to run, I’ll get back in the race someday.” He looks at me and I catch the recognition in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s awesome. I’m a runner too. In fact, I run for the university.” I can see that he does in fact have the dis ease I have too. The disease of not being able to stand still. And I am sad now that he can run and I can’t. I wish him luck and leave the store. So while I may have to learn to watch the runners go by this summer, I know that eventual ly I will rejoin the pack. And I’ll look for you in your car come this cold December.