I don’t miss running
But I do miss a couple of other things
I miss being light on my feet. Moving forward effortlessly without paying attention to pace, time, or distance.
I miss making progress. Small steps, big ones, only visible to myself, or in form of a great race result.
I miss planning my racing season. Both, clever and impulsively ignorant.
I miss the awkward feeling one day before the race. The morning before the race. The minutes before the race.
I miss freezing hands and soaked clothing on a rainy day.
I miss eating two meals after a longrun and still not being full.
I miss the unique feeling of accomplishment for the whole day after a good workout.
I miss looking at those numbers. Meaningless as they are on their own, they’re still an epitome of consistency and progress.
I miss listening to music and getting that extra push from an embarrassingly flat top line during a tough workout.
I miss that halfway point. Knowing that from now on, it’s less and less far to go.
I miss the smell of warm tartan on a hot summer day. The fear before the first rep. And the sense of pride after having nailed it.
I miss running with my friends. Going a bit faster or slower than planned, just for the sake of spending time together.
I miss getting lost on a long day in the mountains. Knowing I will make it home eventually.
I miss buying new shoes. Hoping, they are finally the perfect fit.
I miss bashing cycling because I have found my destiny in running.
I miss muscle soreness.
I miss the cool down. I miss the warm up. Two seemingly equal parts of a workout that could not feel more differently.
I miss slowly running out of energy during a race. Hoping that I can sustain my pace just a tiny bit longer to finish strong.
I miss my toenails getting uglier and uglier while my mileage increases.
I miss setting new running goals and giving up on old ones.
I miss the feeling of being marathon fit, even if there is no race coming up any time soon.
I miss thrashing through that aid station, knowing that I have everything with me, to go on for miles and miles.
I miss doing the extra loop to get my tripple digit for the week, which means everything and nothing.
I miss accepting that it’s just not my day and priding myself that I still tried my best.
So, yeah, maybe I do miss a few things.
It’s the first time since I started running almost 10 years ago, that I am injured for such a long time. I’ve had it all. Shin splints, achilles tendinitis, a morton neurom nerve pain, back pain, ankle pain, heel pain, adductors pain, you name it. However, the longest time off running was 5–7 days. Even during my COVID-19 infection last year, I reassumed running after a week. Albeit very easy and on/off-ish, of course.
I am not writing this to brag about my healing powers or consistency. I point this out to illustrate, that I am facing an entirely new situation right now. One that I haven’t been in since the later summer day in 2013 when I said to myself:
"Let’s see what happens, if I make running my top priority for a while".
What started as some kind of self-experiment, soon turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Before I knew it, running was the top priority in my life. Next to sleeping, eating, relationships, making a living, and all that stuff, of course.
So, I was even more surprised how quickly "not running" became a normality to me lately. Although my unexpected running injury (Note that: "Osteitis Pubis") did not cast its shadow ahead, I immediately learned and accepted that there is no quick fix or chance of "running over it" (that’s the equivalent of "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" in tech) once it fully unfolded its ugly face.
All this was totally new to me. But I automatically handled it in a textbook manner. Almost like a robot. Immediate rest, doctor’s visit, CT, MRT, diagnosis, rest, treatments, alternative sports, more rest, light stretching… The full program, you know it, you’ve been through it yourself.
It took more than 2 weeks until a tiny voice inside of me finally awakened and said:
"Hey… not running really sucks".
And yes, it does really suck.
Sorry for being such an emotional speed bump for you, running into your weekend. The message I am trying to bring across, besides always being scrupulously honest to yourself and others, is the following:
It’s ok to be injured, and it’s ok to be sad and angry about it.
We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt that. Now it’s my turn.
"If something is lost, it can be found."
(Without/Within, Willpower Running)
Everything not running
I never listen to the bands I’ve played in. It just feels awkward. I always find flaws in songwriting, performance or sound, that could have been done better. I can’t switch off that analytical view. Or hearing, for that matter.
With my last band, GWLT, it’s different, though. Whenever a song randomly comes up on iTunes, I listen to it from beginning to end. The band has a certain aesthetic that speaks to me as a listener.
Maybe it’s because I dipped into a wholly new music genre, when I started writing songs together with David aka Roger Rekless, an hip hop artist from Munich. Maybe it’s because I find the production and sound of our last album almost flawless. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of the powerful and momentous live shows we played together. Maybe it’s because what we did was vulnerable honest. In many ways.
I don’t know what exactly, but we surely did something right with GWLT.