5 Stages of Running Withdrawal

I accomplished a lot in the past 18 months. It’s been an exciting adventure and the next season of running is looking even better. Unfortunately training consistently for that long without a break has left me feeling a bit battered at times. Now that a nagging pain in my right shin has persisted for a month I figured it was finally time to rest. Marathon training starts back up again next month and I want to start out healthy.

I am currently on day four of my hiatus, the longest I have gone without running since February of 2010. In just that short amount of time I already discovered that quitting cold turkey results in withdrawal symptoms that put taper madness to shame. As it turns out, running is as physically addictive as heroine.

So I thought I would share my 5 Stages of Running Withdrawal.

1. Denial: Rest? Who needs rest? Not me. I can’t get injured, I’m invincible. This pain just means I need to switch shoes, or improve my form, or get a massage, or run trails instead of roads, stretch more, buy painkillers in bulk, get a foam roller, a stick, a brace, runner’s tape, stock up on that magic ointment they hide behind the counter in the Asian market, stroke my lucky rabbits foot, consult a witch doctor, surf through TV infomercials looking for miracle cures . . . .

2. Anger: I haven’t had a quality long run in a month and suddenly every phrase that exits my mouth is peppered with language so foul it would make a sailor blush. As a precaution, I started warning the highway patrol to clear the roads before I start my morning and evening commutes. There is also a sign posted outside my office door “Watch Out for Flying Equipment” as even the slightest malfunction is likely to be followed by a hysterical temper tantrum the likes of which would make two year olds stand and take notice.

3. Bargaining: I promised myself no running for at least a week. Oh, but WVR’s got that new track workout tonight, that really sounds like fun.  Maybe I’ll just go and see how I feel. And the Genuine Bistro run is tomorrow, I love that route (and the beer afterward), surely just a quick 5 mile run wouldn’t do any harm. I'll keep my pace over 10:00 minutes.  Well, maybe speed up just a bit for one mile, but no faster than 9:00, wait, its a coolest evening we've had in a while.  OK 2 miles at 8:30, no faster than that, I promise, unless I think I can catch up to the person ahead of me.  My alarm is set for 7:00 am, so why am I wide awake at 4:30? Since I’m up anyway, why don’t I just lace up my shoes and tell myself later it was a dream.

4. Depression: Sob.

5. Acceptance: is a myth. I want to run.