There are more than a few of us battling injuries that have taken away our ability to run.  Use this thread to express your frustrations, your moments of enlightenment, whatever you need to do to help you get through this tough time.  We're all in this together, to support one another - in good times and bad.

As for me:

I have come to realize how much of the crap life throws at you I work out in my mind while running. Though I entered this crazy running world only a few short years ago, the thought of not being able to run for a significant period of time has left me feeling out of sorts and unbalanced. Not being able to join my friend, Karen, for our weekend trail runs has, at times, reduced me to tears. I did not know how much I would miss it all until it was taken away, whether temporary or permanently.

I miss the endorphin rush of a hard, but successful, training run.

I miss the quiet of a predawn run, of slowly watching the rest of the world greet the day.

I miss taking my troubles, working through them over miles of dirt, then putting them away in a mental drawer marked "Done."

I miss the hours-long chats with Karen, so different from phone conversations or talks over lunch.

I miss the anticipation of a new and more challenging training schedule from my coach.

I miss feeling sweaty, tired, and satisfied after a 20+-mile run.

I miss the anxious butterflies that always accompany me in the days leading up to a race.

I miss the me I become when I am pushing myself to limits I never in my wildest dreams thought I could achieve.

I miss . . . . .

Ditto what Wildchild said, Leslie. But I know you wanted a little more than that here... and I'm not injured, but have been. So I can share this...

When injured and unable to run, I missed the solitude that my running gives me. The time to unplug and tune out. Let my legs do what they will.

I missed the conversations I have with myself that only running seems to encourage. I missed the feeling of pushing myself just a little bit, the satisfying fatigue from a good strong tempo run, or tackling a hilly trail. 

I can run now, and I'm running well. And I appreciate it so much. Leslie, I hope you're out there chewing up the miles soon.

Leslie - That's a good list.  I miss hearing about people's runs when they are injured.  I got "tricked" by the thread from 2 years ago that sunadvocate bumped to the top.  You were talking about sore calves and it made me think about how I miss it when people are injured (even before this thread popped up.)

My own list is short.  When I am injured I miss being able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. 

[[[[ jylnne]]]]]]...........just think about what you're Gonna Do Differently  when you get back.......

let

dozens

 of 300-lb geese

serve as An Incentive....

Well—I'm able to run, now, but I've had to take three extended breaks from running due to injuries over the last seven years and I remember them very well!  While I was out...

I missed the whole routine...looking forward to getting off work and getting home...changing into my running clothes...stretching out...putting on my shoes (oh man—the feeling of having my running shoes on my feet—I missed that so dang much)...putting my hat on...and heading out the door...

I missed running with the cross country kids…

I missed running with my son--I can't even explain how much I missed that...

I missed feeling the changing seasons…

I missed being alone with my thoughts and just thinking…

I missed that feeling of flying down the road...feeling like I could go as fast and for as long as I wanted to...

I'm sure there are so many more things that I missed--I'm just so glad I don't have to miss them, right now.  I feel really bad for all of you who are missing those things that you love about running.  You will be back, though--and you'll have a whole new appreciation for it all!

{{{JLynne}}} - You and I can walk/crutch-stump hand-in-hand as we make our way slowly back to the road.  And just think of how wonderful it will be when the time comes to let 'er fly!

Tom and Twocat - You two have been my inspiration to not wimp out, to keep myself in shape, to find other active avenues of release, and I thank you.

Regarding lifestyle threatening and life threatening - as Twocat said, there is on comparison.  This is a but a bump in the road.  When I first injured my foot, one of my dearest friends asked me, "What are you going to do if the doctor says you can't run again?"  The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but I found I had to chew on that one for awhile.  My answer - mountain biking.   (Although me on two feet is dangerous enough.  Me on two wheels, careening down a trail?  I'm not sure there's enough insurance in the world to cover that. )

Thanks for sharing, folks.

 

Now I am terrified of starting up again.  What if I can't make it a mile?  What if I just don't like it anymore?  Nothing as humbling as feeling like a newbie all over again.

Enke, don't know if you're a FB-er, but this is what I posted before my park outing this morning:

"About to go for my first run post-op... feeling nervous, excited, scared ... sort of like a first date with myself ..."

Thing is, I used to have this running fear of failure syndrome before almost every run for months, if not years. I just did not trust my own legs to carry me. That lack of trust would eat at my self-confidence, creating a downward spiral condition. "What if I can't...?" would invariably lead to "I couldn't". So I consciously worked on turning that around. "I can..." led to "I did!", even though the miles were excruciatingly slow. But I didn't care. All I needed was the patience to last long enough to finish them. Miles are miles. And I ran them, each and every one.

What do I miss about running? Having started out lost and now being found, I guess this question doesn't apply to me. Every run is an accomplishment for me, even the crappiest ones. It's the advantage of starting out non-athletic in the first place, I guess.

You people inspire this old runner wannabe.  There is so much "heart" here.  Yes, you go with me when I am out there doing what I can.