Track and Field Blogs - Yolanda Flamino

My running the past few weeks was more enjoyable, more impassioned, more free-flowing than it had been in a long time. I can’t exactly explain why and even less so put it eloquently into words, but there was deep bliss involved with it that was separate from any goals or ambitions I may have. I woke up each morning not just looking forward to the run, but craving it. I would have to distract my mind throughout the day, as I waited for my next run to roll around. This is not necessarily uncommon, but is often fueled by the fact that I am excited to train and work toward my goals. Although I still found myself being very goal orientated with many small benchmarks set each day, I felt my primary motivation came from another source, perhaps a more spiritual one where I was able to create a personal sanctuary on the trails and sidewalks of southeastern Michigan. I consistently felt a joy and peace that I believe some people spend their whole lives searching for and when they find it, figure it would be worth another hundred years of searching…and here I was, having it available to me daily.

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While all this may seem hollow and idealistic to an outsider and even seems more emotional than I am apt to let myself be, it was a lovely few weeks. This being said, I wasn’t running aimlessly chasing butterflies through meadows of wildflowers while hearing “The Sound of Music” in my head. I was training, with a set plan, and getting into very good shape. I felt fit and ready to start workouts. I improved my flexibility and core strength. I was sleeping well and on a regular schedule. I was very focused and motivated. I was taking time to be cautious and do injury prevention drills. I was doing the big things and the little things, all while feeling very within myself and not pushing the limits in this base-laying phase of my marathon build-up.

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But, just when you think you have hot dice on the table and are looking forward to the next roll, the table gets cold. That is, I had to walk home from a run the other day as something in my foot became unbearable and wouldn’t let up despite stopping to stretch a handful of times. That was last weekend and I’ve been able to run a total of two minutes and five seconds since. I’m still optimistic about my chances at a fall marathon, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s also pretty heart wrenching, more so with each passing day.

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In a bout of irony, I was skimming through a book a few days prior and fell upon the following statement penned by Thomas Merton. He wrote, “To hope is to risk frustration. Therefore, make up your mind to risk frustration.” I probably could have just posted this quote since it sums up my situation nicely. My hopes were at an all time high; luckily the frustration has not yet risen to that point. I am doing my best to be patient and ride it out, as I am confident there is a reason for this, I just may not be aware of it yet and am sure it will work out for the best. But, at the moment, it is frustrating. I hoped, so it was a risk I was more than willing to take, for without hope life is dull, monotonous, and bleak. With the risk being known, I can’t complain, but only be thankful for the ability to hope and the enjoyable prior weeks of running.

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I have to add that I’m fortunate, as I was able to quickly get in and see a podiatrist, have x-rays taken, and receive sound advice as for the best way to proceed. I’ve been good about not testing it 18 times a day and making wise decisions about it. I’ve stayed on top of “rehabbing” it and have maintained a positive outlook. This is part of sport and makes the successes and highs all that more sweet. Hopefully I’ll be back on the road in a few more days and I can write about my workouts. Until then, roll the dice and keep the hope alive!