Tuesday got out the door hoping that perhaps the assertion to continue on would somehow prevail over the hurting leg. Perhaps, something special would happen because I just went on with it. It has happened many times before when I was beaten down, injured or discouraged: just move; get out there; things get better on the road.
The bike ride went well. The legs felt strong. Hope opened a blossom. The run was a nightmare. Each foot strike was a smashing pain. I changed the stride. I quickened the gait. Slowed the gate. Landed midfoot, forefoot, heel: pain. I was sweating profusely, not sure if it was because of the activity, the heat, or the pain. And, I had only gone about a quarter mile. Why I am torturing myself?
Oh, it felt so good to stop and just be still a few minutes. I was done. It will be a while before I have the guts to try to run again. I have no idea what the future holds but I know Who holds the future. Now I look at pictures of people running smoothly and I so wish I could. I see pictures of myself running and so wish I could do that again. Perhaps never again; perhaps I will somehow recover. Whatever -- I will be found trusting still.
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