They say once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget the skill. Running is like that too. Unless you have a cardiac history and previously birthed 2 children and you’ve stopped running for, say, 10 months, then there is no hope. In that case it’s like trying to learn a newly discovered tribal dialect that’s all clicks and grunts. While you’re deaf. And blind. All by yourself. In the arctic tundra, because it’s winter and you picked a fine time to start learning a new language.
And so, here I sit feeling deaf and blind, and both physically and mentally subpar to my human counterparts who are able to run without effort or forethought. My dear non-running husband, sensing my weakness no doubt, has stepped up his running game to weekly efforts, tackling increased mileage and speeds I can only dream about. I am unsure if I will ever be able to run again, and not at all sure that I even want to try. My mind has been at war with my body for months anticipating the inevitable defeat any actual attempt to run will bring. My new normal is to get dressed in my running pants, headband and all, and sit around not even thinking about running anymore until it’s time to get ready for work. Initially I was sidelined by injury and illness, as is typically the case, but lately it is the lack of inertia and mental stamina that continue to keep me sidelined. Also, if I press real hard on my hip I can still make it hurt, so is it REALLY healed? Nope. Nuh uh. No.
Enter the trampoline. Santa brought my kids one for Christmas and I recently hopped on board and gave it a whirl. It was the literal kick in the rear my psyche and posterior required and the fog was jostled from my brain. I was suddenly both buoyant and brilliant! I quickly discovered low impact circular running and I’m pretty sure this will take off.
I had found in trampolining the sure fire transition I need to help restore my faith in my running career. And I fondly recalled my high school days as a cheerleader.
And then I pulled out the donkey kick:
The trampoline proved to be a worthy adversary and, truth be told, it was not long before I suffered the consequences of my 10 month hiatus and high altitude activity.
Though timid at first, it wasn’t long before I regained full mastery of the underrated seat drop.
Obviously, if there were an Olympic seat drop competition, I’d be a contender. My son, Nathan, decided to offer up some friendly competition.
And just like that my exercise routine is on the rebound. With the trampoline, I rediscovered laughter within exercise and remembered that at least some of the time, it should be fun and not just funny. Inspired, I headed out for a walk yesterday bundled up in my winter coat, a scarf and jeans. I did not try to run, did not pretend to be running, and didn’t even bother to dust off my running clothes. I just enjoyed the pleasant day and some quite time with my bubble gum.