So...I've been running.
Running very gingerly, and with my heart in my throat because I'm terrified of falling again. With a new, not-my-favorite mantra in my head, that goes something like "don't ever forget that you could fall right now, no, right now, no, right now" and mental images of ankles twisting and bloody knees.
Maybe, after seeing the PT, I now need to find a sports doctor for crazy people. Is there such a thing?
But, post-traumatic-Ragnar-disorder aside, I am running. And by "running" I mean: building up slowly.
So I go to the Rec center (because actual running in the outdoors is prevented by both air pollution and the fact that it's even more terrifying because what if I fall and I'm, like, ten miles from home?) and I run on the track. Which is the lamest track ever because it's in the dingy basement with tiny windows that give a lovely view of the roots of the ugly bushes outside the building. Plus there's the fact that you have to run 5 1/8 lap for a mile. How do you keep track of that? I don't, really. I round up: six laps is a mile. And to be safe, I run twenty laps for a total of, I don't even really know how far.
But three-ish miles.
And I don't even run the whole time. I started out with run a lap, walk a lap. Ten times. Now I do walk a lap, run a lap once, then run two laps, walk a lap six times. (That's twenty laps, right?)
Or I go to the other gym where I have a one-month-free membership and run on the treadmill there. I've worked my way up to running for four minutes, walking for two, until I do 3.25 miles or the battery on my music dies. I go there because that gym's treadmills are nicer than the rec center's, with the added bonus that every. single. person. I've ever seen use the treadmill there wipes it off with the cleaning wipes when he/she is finished.
At the rec center no one does. Which is disgusting.
I suppose what I am doing isn't really running yet, but "running," but it is giving me a reason to wear all of the new running clothes I bought when I wasn't even running with air quotes. When my only contribution to physical fitness was shopping. Buying new exercise clothes gave me hope that one day I would actually get to use them.
And I am now!
Except this one pair of capris I bought at the Under Armor outlet is making me crazy. First off, remember that UA clothes, while awesome in the fabric department, tend to be cut for the smaller people among us. The ones who are, I guess, actually physically fit. Toss my crazy-big thighs into that mix and it's usually not pretty.
But these capris! I couldn't resist. Mostly because they were something ridiculous like six bucks. And the perfectly neutral shade of grey, which is my new black. (Not really. But sort of.) And the UA compression fabric? I just love it. It makes me feel like I don't jiggle.
When I actually run in these capris, however, something annoying happens. They fit just right on my thundery thighs. On my waist? Not so much. So as I run, the waistband starts sliding. Squinching down. Bunching up. Until, eventually, it moves lower than my shirt, so now I'm flashing buttcheek at all the middle-aged moms and the old men who use the track.
Just the top of the buttcheek, but still.
About every five minutes or so, I have to adjust. Tug the pants up on my thighs a little bit, then hitch the waistband back where it goes.
It's making me a little bit crazy.
On the bright side, though: my ankle is managing it. I'm stretching and balancing and making Kendell massage that tendon. I'm still terrified. But at least I'm moving. (Even if I am also, sometimes, flashing.)
(This blog post inspired by THIS ONE, wherein the writer details the bad things that happen when you're running, and while I meant to write my own list I got caught up in the drama of the saggy-waisted running capri, which is a phenomena I hope is not unique to me. If I HAD written that list, though, the worst thing that happens when you're running is falling!)