Writing EDD 2/8/2016 — Stride

My Achilles injury changed my stride, forcing me to run on flat feet, and not that I ever had a ton of speed, but what I did have was replaced by plodding.

I’ve tried to change my stride in the past, improve it for the better, higher knees, less heel strike, but it’s one of those things that when you reach a certain age or distance, you’re stuck with it. And I’m okay with that, even when I see the race photos where my foot is splayed out perpendicular to my other foot, wanting to take an abrupt left turn off the trail. I like it because it’s mine. And when it changed, something just felt wrong. I needed to push off with my toes, I needed that extra propulsion, because in my mind I was one of those runners who run as fast as they walk, and I’m not judging them. It’s great that they’re getting out and doing something, and if they had my stride, they’d probably feel like shit too, because it’s not theirs. And when I ran home that last half mile, testing my Achilles, slipping back into my old stride like that pair of worn jeans that haven’t been washed for a couple days, it was magical. It felt like that time I gave up beer for a couple weeks, and that first one back was the sweetest, most pleasurable thing I can think of, well second most pleasurable and it’s like that, too, not as good as sex, but that feeling after a week or two in the mountains and coming home, barely being able to take a shower, but knowing that without it, I might as well keep my sleeping bag unpacked, and then…

That’s what it was like, and the only reason to give something like that up was for that first taste back. The trail was sweeter, the sun shined brighter, and the blue sky was a deeper shade of blue, and for that half mile, shit, it was high definition.

Of course tonight I’m limping around with a slight pain in my Achilles, but I got a taste, and like any good addict, that taste will keep me coming back.