These past two weeks have been a pure battle of will. I am up and fully awake by 5:00 am every day, mostly because my lower back and leg is screaming in pain from having spent the past eight hours in a vertical position. After a good dose of caffeine I find myself either in front of the computer and beginning my work day, or lacing up my running shoes and heading out for a run.

Last week I had two good days of running, spending about 15-20 minutes slowly jogging through the neighborhood. It’s been wonderful to have absolutely no care in the world in regards to my pace, I’m simply ecstatic to be running again. This week I hit the pavement three times, extending my time to 20 minutes on each run.

The battle of will continues to be whether or not I actually head outside for the run itself. After nine months of inactivity the desire to actually run has subsided. Physically, it’s difficult. I have lost muscle tone, I’m not nearly as strong as I was a year ago, and my breathing is labored. On the other hand, I miss my private time on the trails immensely, I also miss my friends and all of the laughs and conversations we shared. I miss having an outlet other than sitting in front of the TV or drinking beer with my neighbors. Being outside in the woods has always been a huge part of my life and a big part of my self-identity. I feel as if a piece of me is missing.

I had a minor setback last weekend which I am almost recovered from, I think. It has been so difficult not being able to do the simple tasks I once could do. While I certainly didn’t mind my inability to shovel snow this winter or rake leaves last fall, there are some things around the house and yard that must be done and the fact that I can’t do them is more than frustrating. It is almost depressing. Last weekend I grew so tired and disgusted with the brick door step falling apart, I began pulling it apart and set about resetting it. As I grew tired the squats turned into bending over, and more and more strain on my back and spine. My bulging disc grew irritated and has been screaming at me ever since. The weirdest thing is the fact that when I’m running I feel good. I don’t feel the pain. And I am working on forefoot landing in my minimalist shoes, using the rubber band effect of my achilles tendon to propel me forward. My feet will probably get stronger because of this, a definite advantage of attempting minimalist running from the beginning versus diving right in during high mileage training.

As each week drags on I grow nearer and nearer to actually scheduling that neurosurgeon consult. Undoubtedly, once the surgery is over with I’ll beat myself up over why I didn’t do it sooner. I’ll just need to remind myself that I tried every other avenue (therapy, medication, time) prior to taking the knife.

Until then I will continue to log whatever time I can on my feet.