Sixteen candles for sixteen days. Good end for this fall’s bees wax. One for each day since my last run. I’m walking without a limp now, mostly. Only succumb to the knee brace when vigorously gardening.
Two mile walk just completed, first real locomotion. Eighty five strides per minute the entire way. Sensing that movement itself lay at the base of my life long love of running. Speed matters, just going turns the key though. I’ve watched and felt my thighs do their best Houdini, atrophy while healing, to the point where I’m at square one when and if I ever can return to running.
So what is left?
Working on my head. The Mind is the Athlete after all. Completely focused this morning, getting the absolute maximum benefit out of the 28:30 I allowed as introduction to pedestrianism. Knowing I’ve got to walk before I dare dream again. Cadence. Posture. Heart rate. Respirations. See? Just the tiniest bit like running.
Working on my shoulders. A strong back carries big dreams. I’ve exchanged enough dna with the maple tree to start smoothing out grip marks. Learning now to use the many rafters and beams and supports and chains and ropes and ladders, our barn my personal ninja training ground. Good hard work, using body weight. Pull ups everywhere, hand over hand work, climbing every conceivable angle. Challenges always. Wishing I could have started 40 years ago. #farmstrong #barnstrong
And still, in that tiny corner of my mind. Running. My ultimate freedom. My ultimate honesty. Like an ember. Just waiting. For another go.