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.
