It is nearly mid-July here in south Louisiana, and I have to say, weather-wise it has been a weird week. I have been in New Orleans for one month as of today, and yesterday was the first day of legitimate rainfall since my arrival. It has rained on and off since Monday, accompanied by a radical drop in temperature. When my family visited over the holiday weekend, 100-degree temperatures plagued us daily. The day they all departed, these rains came, and it's been cool ever since.
After work, I laced up my running shoes and headed outside, intent on taking advantage of the fact that it is indeed mid-July in south Louisiana AND at 6 p.m. it was 79 degrees. I have run on and off since I've been here, and blogged about the experience, but today was different. As I got started, I couldn't help but think that today may be the only 79-degree day I experience in this place all summer. And that could not be wasted with a quickie run around Audubon Park... today's weather offered a unique opportunity of which to take advantage.
Approximately 14 months ago, I ran a marathon. Crazy, right? I was wildly unprepared for it, my longest run only reaching 14 miles (for non-runners, a full marathon is 26.2),because about 3/4 of the way into my training, I sustained a knee injury- perhaps the worst kind of injury one can have, because it was by no means debilitating, but hurt me just enough to not be able to push myself as far as I would have liked in training. In short, it was not enough to quit running cold turkey, but it probably was unwise of me to go for it. But, I had plane tickets, family flying in, hotel reservations. And I am no quitter.
I crossed the finish line at the Bayshore Marathon in Traverse City, Michigan after 4 hours and 45 minutes. The pain was intense, in my knee and everywhere else. Though I completed a major milestone (good pun, I know) in my life as an athlete by sheer virtue of crossing that line, I have never experienced more self-induced pain and suffering in my life. By that evening, I could not move. I could not get out of bed on my own. I could not stop crying. Terry had to dress me. I could not sit, I could not walk without wincing. It was terrible.
And the knee was pissed. When I returned home, I could not do anything athletic for more than a month. I gained back all the weight I'd lost in training. I felt miserable. I had MRIs and x-rays, and the injury remained the same- not debilitating but ever-present. I was diagnosed with a small lateral meniscus tear; too small to operate, too large to function. I was resigned to hanging up the running shoes indefinitely.
But this year in Lansing, I've slowly been working my way back. All high-impact cardio stopped and was replaced by biking, yoga, and pilates; all good things, and things that kept me healthy. Substitutions.
I only ran a few times during the school year, afraid of my knee and the incessant pain therein, so transitioning into running again in New Orleans has been daunting. Today, however, I wanted to test things out. I mean, really? A 79-degree, breezy summer day in the flattest city I have ever lived in? Somebody upstairs was issuing me a challenge.
With a new iPod mix blaring in my headphones, I worked my way through the city. Somewhere around the 20-minute mark, a cramp in my stomach threatened to end my unique opportunity, but thanks to MJ's Man in the Mirror and the beautiful St. Charles Avenue sites, I pushed on through. The next time I checked my watch, 48 minutes had passed. Not a whisper from the knee, mind you, not even a twinge. As I crossed the entrance of Tulane, a broad grin drifted across my face; this was the Ashleigh who signed up for the marathon, the runner hidden behind the pall of knee pains and fears.
I reached Loyola at the 60 minute mark, dripping sweat, tired, but so incredibly happy. I laughed aloud, people stared at me on the sidewalk, I sang aloud to Justin Timberlake. I could feel every muscle in my legs, the pounding of my heart in my chest, and a deep sense of accomplishment for the six miles behind me... I could have gone further, miles further maybe.
Unique opportunities happen every day, to do something good, maybe even
something great, that makes life more sweet. As I came down from my runner's high, free of knee pain and full of satisfaction, I vowed to not hesitate when I recognize opportunities to do more, to venture beyond the norm. I could have not run, could have gone to the gym and whiled away some time on an elliptical, stayed afraid of knee fragility, stuck with routines. But not doing so, though tinted with risk, was much more inspiring.
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