5ks Are No Fun

That is, when you’re injured and can’t run.  Boo hoo.

Saturday was the Historic Roswell 5k that Eric and I usually enjoy running.  There are several reasons we like it.  It’s close-by, it ends in one of our favorite parks to run, and is topped iff with a Parade.  Cool or what?  Well, due to the stormy situation of the ankle gone rogue, I’ve been having to cancel my mileage for the time being in hopes that I can still run the 15k next Saturday.  Too much too soon proved to be a really stupid idea.  Running on a sprain and a fracture 2 1/2 weeks into recovery (as well as kickboxing and several intense sessions on the bike) has provided me with more swelling and pain than I was prepared for.

Why Georgia Cassi, why?

If I had a penny for every time I said that I was going to try and be smart about healing an injury or keeping balance in my training, and then didn’t, I’d be a very rich woman.

I did not, however, completely miss out on the race.  Eric and I loaded up the kiddos and reserved our sidewalk spot for the parade as we watched/waved to/cheered on the runners passing by.  First the speedy ones, then the middle-of-the packers, a few jogging strollers, the joggers and then the walkers.  We thoroughly enjoyed yelling out and encouraging each of these runners and our 4 little ones joined in on the action (even the one year old was participating in the cheer fest!).  It was one of those times where instead of pushing myself through the miles or focusing on a PR, I was able to stand back and admire what an amazing bunch of people these runners are.  Bart Yasso summed it up perfectly on Twitter today when he said, “The acceptance of all abilities and ages is what differentiates running from every other sport”.  So true, Mr. Yasso, so true.

Eric and our 4 little buns 🙂

In the midst of a rather dramatic mood (while sulking about my injured foot), I told Eric last night that I might as well go ahead and shut my blog down since I’ll never run again.  Knowing me well enough to not take my exclamation seriously, he solemnly reassured me that I would run again. “You’re going to heal, you’re going to run stronger and farther, it’s going to be fine.”  Often I blame him for being too much of a laid back Phlegmatic, but at times like these, he’s exactly what I need.  That quiet yet strong voice encouraging me to press on in the midst of adversity and to look with excitement to the future.

I may not have been able to run the 5k, but I loved being able to support the people who did.  I savored the moments where I showed my children how much fun it is to be a cheerleader from the sidewalk and how much it means to someone who is struggling up the unexpected hill.  I may not be wearing a bib number at the moment or collecting a finisher’s loot, but I am on the sidelines cheering my fellow peeps on.  I’m watching their faces as they push through the miles with a serious gaze or light-hearted laugh.  I’m here to hand out water or just a shout of support.  Who knows, maybe someday a fellow injured comrade will do the same for me.



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