Gnats

Gnats.

Some people say, oh, nuts.

I say, oh, gnats.

Define irony.  Starting a blog about using running as a tool for grieving, and then actually being unable to run.

I blame the gnats.

Two weeks ago, I was out, quite literally, pounding the pavement in my neighborhood.  I've been training for quite some time now to do a 5K in Disney World this fall, specifically, in the Animal Kingdom.  I thought that since the 5K would be outside, maybe it was time to mix actual outdoor running in with my beloved treadmill at the local Y.

Bad idea.

Bad, bad.

Don't get me wrong.  Despite having skin so pale I make Caspar look tan, I do love being outside.  The fresh air, that feeling of cool as the sun is getting ready to go down.  The sounds of kids playing outside, the fact that I, after so many years, actually have a neighborhood to run in, dare I call it, MY neighborhood.  My husband and I bought our first home in April, and so this is a rather new thing for me, having my very own neighborhood.

Which is lovely.

And beautiful.

And at sundown, filled with bugs.  Damn.  Freakin'.  Bugs.

I'm no priss, okay?  I can spray on the OFF and head out.  But OFF doesn't work on those dang gnats.  They just love to get in your ears, and all around your face, and basically make your life not nutty, but gnatty.  And honestly?  It's just annoying.  Especially when you've been spoiled by the cushioning of the treadmill at the Y, by the friendly staff who greet you when you come in, by the ability to easily people watch through the glass windows lining 75% of the large work out room.

So basically, I was doing okay.  But for some reason, despite having read The Courage to Start, despite knowing that it's really important not to push yourself, I thought, man, I need to do the 5K outside!  Never mind that I was perfectly capable of completing it indoors, I thought, I should do this.

Oh, those darn shoulds.  Come up at the worst times.

So I pushed.  Against the gnats.  Against better judgment. 

I pushed too hard.

And I injured a muscle in my upper left thigh.  I layed off for a few days, and tried running again last week.  No dice.  After some advice I didn't want to hear but knew to be true from two separate running sources, I have forced myself to take some time off.

Me.  The girl who hated to run.

Now addicted and craving my run.  The regularity of it, the success of it.  Knowing how hard it can be on my body and still wanting to do more.

Me.

For lack of a better term: benched.

I blame the gnats.  If I hadn't punched it at the very end to outrun them (because if you run faster, they don't get in your face and ears) I might have done okay.  And if I hadn't run outside in the first place, then this never would have happened.

And I realized something.

That much like everything else, in running, there is no need for "should."

I don't have to like running outside in my neighborhood.

I don't need to put up with the gnats.

If I'm a treadmill girl, then that's okay.  And when I get back to running, that's what I'll be.

For now, I'm taking it easy, and having a good laugh at myself.  For falling prey to the "shoulds."

Maybe running outside taught me something after all.