Would you like some cheese with that whine?

I have been "run-free" for two weeks and I hate it. At first I thought I might enjoy the time off to explore cross-training and to not HAVE to do a certain workout on any given day. I thought in place of my beloved running it might be fun to mix it up with hikes and ellipses and swimming (Who am I kidding? I hate swimming. I loathe it with the red hot intensity of a thousand burning suns). I thought having the choice to go to the gym or ride a bike might somehow make me a more well-rounded person.

Poppycock.

It has instead made me cranky and secretly loathing of anyone who is healthy and able to run. Gone is the friendly, encouraging runner who wants to paint the world with endorphins and in her place, a bitter, cranky crazyperson. I admit to cringing when I hear people talk about how far they've run. How fast. How many days in a row. How they are doing a race this weekend. It's enough to make me want to trip their non-inflamed-lower back-ed selves. When I decide to "speed" walk out on my running trail and am passed by big, plodding, sweaty guy types it is all I can do to not yell out, "Oh yeah??! Well, I could dust you if I were healthy, pal." Like I said, crazyperson.

While it is nice to know I can do other things besides running, its temporary absence has left a hollow place inside. It's like eating a non-fat yogurt when what you really want is a banana split. All of the other activities are fun but they are not the same. There is just something about propelling yourself forward for as long and/or as fast as you can with only your legs and heart in control. Whenever I can't do what I love, I am reminded of how very fortunate I am that I am healthy enough (most days) to be able to run. I am reminded of how blessed my life really is. And maybe, just maybe, this little reality check is what I really needed all along.