Injuries and God

Here in Colorado, the nutzy yo-yo weather of late winter finally seems to have broken.  The sun is out, temps are flirting with the mid-60's, just a gentle breeze... in short, it's glorious running weather, and I'm itchin' to get outside!

But this week... I'm recovering from an injury.  No running for me.

I am pout.

This particular injury is some kind of minor strain in my right calf/achilles.  About 2 weeks ago, during the strides at the end of a 30 minute run, something went <YOINK!> and I sorta hobbled home.  It wasn't bad, but enough that I wasn't going to push it.  It felt something like a cross between a tear and a cramp.  After a couple days off, I hit the treadmill (it was silly cold and windy outside) to test things out... and barely made a mile, again stopping at the point where I knew I hadn't hurt it any more but was definitely headed that way.  A very frustrated Brian went back to the drawing board...

A couple days later I tried a different strategy.  I again used the treadmill, mostly because it was a highly controlled environment, and started off just walking.  After a couple minutes, I bumped up the speed by half a mile per hour to a fast walk.  So far so good.  Up by another 0.5 and I was jogging really slow, and every 2 minutes I kept increasing my speed to the point where I felt my calf tiring more than I would expect, then dropped it back down to a walk and repeated the cycle, sort of a slow "acceleration run" (see Daniels 5-15k training plan).  After 2 sets of 4 min. walk/8 min. jog, I could definitely tell it was time to stop, but, again, it wasn't to the point of pain.  Two days later I tried again, this time going for 2 sets of 10 min. jog, and it felt really good, strong, with no hint of tiring or pain in the calf.  Rock on.

Now, in this last set, I still hadn't gone any faster than just over 9:00/mile, and "normal" easy runs for me are in the 8:15-8:45 range.

After another 2 days of rest, I hit it again, this time going for sets of 12 minutes, where the last 2 minutes would be right about "normal" pace.  Everything went fine...

... until the very last 2 minutes.  <YOINK> and I hobbled home again.  Couldn't push off that foot when walking, much worse than when it first happened.  Even iced it that night (which isn't something I often do).

So, as I was laying there on the couch, feeling frustrated and angry and miserable about myself, I started praying.  When I got done with the obligatory "God, what the *&$# is going on??!!!" I started asking, "OK, what should I do next?"  After all, I was at my wits end, and I really desired to move beyond this and get into some real training (I can only handle so much easy jogging before I have to go find a track or a long hill and really punish myself... yeah, it's weird, but that's just me).

First observation: why are we so pig-headed that we wait until AFTER we're at our OWN wits end to ask this question?  Ever notice how it's always after everything has already gone wrong?  Wouldn't it make sense to ask it first and just avoid all the drama?

Back to my prayer: in response, I heard, "Do you trust Me?"

Next observation: EVERYTHING in life comes down to level of trust in God.  Period.  And most of us have been pretty screwed up and twisted around by the world and have some major trust issues, especially when it comes to God.  So, when I heard this return question, it really made me cringe a little bit; usually, it means I'm about to be asked to do something I'd rather not do.

Third observation: why, when we're being asked of something by God, do we automatically think it's a bad thing?  Are we really so arrogant to think that our plan is better than His?


And yet... we still tend to not listen.

So, this time, I sighed a heavy sigh and said, "OK, I trust you... what should I do?"

"Don't run for a week; 7 days, no running."

"BUT... NO!  It's supposed to be so nice next week, and... and I've got a training schedule and I'm already behind on it... and... can't you just zap it make it all better??!"

"Do you trust Me?"

<siiiigh> "OK... no running for a week."

Why is that so hard to do?

Anyway, I'm now looking out the window at a gorgeous Monday afternoon and wishing my calf weren't sore so I could be out running.  I won't run until Saturday, though, even if I feel good enough to, 'cause Papa said so.  And you can bet when I get up Saturday morning that the first thing I'll do is ask Him exactly what KIND of workout I should do, and then I'll do THAT and not whatever has popped into my head in the meantime.

Final observation: wouldn't it make sense to do that with everything we do?  After all, we Christians call ourselves followers of Christ.  Something tells me that that isn't just a euphemism for "believe in."  To follow, we require instructions, otherwise we're just staggering around blindly.  Yes, the Bible is the first source for that, but I have yet to find the verse that says, "And on the 3rd day, runneth thou four sets of nineteen thousand cubits, and resteth thou two minutes."  For that kind of direction, we gotta ask the question.

And we gotta listen to the answer.