The first minute feels rough. The second things start to click again and I feel like I'm right where I left off, my feet pounding to the familiar rhythm, heel then toe. I look at my watch it has to of been ten minutes already, nope only four. After 5 minutes, I feel like I'm breathing through a straw and my mind starts to think back to the comfort of AC and everything there is to do other than running.
They say your body adapts to what it's exposed to so I guess I can't be too surprised by my body's reaction to being asked to run again. After two weeks of slowly adding in mechanic drills, treadmill jogs at an incline, and short exaggerated strides I finally got to graduate to short, slow continuous runs. Needless to say, I was excited about this until I actually completed my first run and got a reality check of where my fitness actually is, spoiler it's non-existent, or at least nonrecognizable that I was at one point easily cranking out forty-mile weeks. The pace is slow but feels hard. The minutes feel longer than usual.
After my first fifteen-minute run back the other day I realized that I've never felt more removed from the life of an elite athlete not only in performance but physically as well.
I went from a lifestyle revolved around my sport to barely being able to do any consistent physical activity. After the first month, left with probably too much time to think about things, I started to question whether or not I would be able to get back to the level of fitness I was at pre-tear and I worried about what my body was going to look like on the other end of it all. I was nervous about whether or not the next time I stepped on a starting line I'd feel comfortable wearing the cropped top and slightly less revealing than a bikini bottoms that comprise my uniform.
Normally I look forward to it because donning it means I get to do what I love the most; compete. I knew muscle loss and gain weight, were inevitable things during this recovery period especially when you're stuck being unable to do anything for 2 weeks at a time every time you get an injection. Doing the math this summer I spent exactly six weeks either in bed/ on crutches/ with very, very, and I mean very little ability to walk or stand or sit upright for long periods of time.
I recently read the essay by Emily Ratajkowski that's been making the rounds across the internet regarding her lack of control over how the public sees her or rather her body and it made me think about my own relationship with my body. Surprisingly the more I thought about it the more I came to the conclusion that what really worried me about wearing my uniform again wasn't my own perception of how I look, but what others would think. When I get back on the line will I look as muscular, as toned? Will I be judged the way female runners' bodies often are and pegged as unfit or slow based on my body and nothing else? Not by the training or performances under my belt? We've all heard it, the announcer or the spectator saying "she's slimmed down this year". A small comment, but one that carries so much weight and implications. Words that you don't hear in the same frequency or ever when it comes to men. Words that cause image issues and unhealthy standards in our sport.
I'm not uncomfortable wearing my sports bra even though I'm not as toned or wearing my spandex even if it's a bit snugger. My body is my body and right now despite feeling out of shape and different than I was months before, I still love it and I am excited to wear my uniform again. In the meantime, I'll be here building my body back, step by step, positive
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