Injured runners have lost something, however temporarily, that they love. Need. Crave. They run to live and live to run, and when they can’t, they risk alienating friends and strangers alike. No one likes a whiner.
My current injury is not serious. Just a painfully inflamed Achilles. All I need to do is rest and ice it, and I’ll be fine. Still, I was upset after a great season of running took me onto and over mountains in California and Italy; gently readying me for a super marathon in September. That’s not happening and it sucks.
However, I shall not whine.
What I do instead is 1) avoid Central Park. Seeing the countless happy, focused, bouncy and exhausted runners is hard. So I just don’t go there for now. 2) I have joined the Y for a month. Now I row and swim. I work hard at my core strength. Among the very old and very young, sick and healthy and fat and slim, all of whom diligently work out there, I stay in shape. Moving, that’s what it’s about. 3) I ride my bike around New York. 4) I tend to my tendon. And I feel lucky to be moving in the sun, 99% healthy and on the way to 100.