Why I haven't missed running

Nine years ago, I trained for my first marathon, the Chicago marathon, after never having run more than six miles in my life.

During the 20-mile long run that year -- the final run before a three-week taper to the race -- I was doubled over in pain. Popliteal (behind the knee) tendonitis.

I was the biggest friggin' baby about it. I cried, moaned, whined about it to whoever would listen. (I feel really silly about that now.)

Running was new, exciting and man, this former smoker and plump chick was so close to running a marathon. I felt special, like I was actually accomplishing something meaningful.

(Editor's note: I ran/walked the 2007 Chicago marathon until it was canceled mid-race because it was hotter than hell. A humbling final chapter.)

I've had to quit running a few times(and come back) since then. Two pregnancies. A broken toe last year.

And then this year, a small tear to a hamstring tendon, the year I had planned to attempt my first 50-mile run. The sports doc told me not to run for six weeks.

I moaned, though a lot less, the first day to my good running buddies.

When you're a mom who works full-time, running is pretty much your social life. I'm mainly OK with that. I was going to miss the comraderie.

And since then, a strange thing has happened.

I haven't missed running.

At all.

My Facebook feed is filled with people posting about their workouts. And it also has a few articles posted about people who post about their workouts being narcissists or insecure people.

For the record, I used to post shit like that a lot. Then I grew kind of, I don't know, embarrassed at times. I mean, who gives a crap about how many miles someone ran or what time they did it? I put the brakes on -- I didn't want to be an asshole anymore.

At least about my workouts, anyway. Ha.

(Though sometimes, I'm gonna post about it. There's just times a girl's gotta shout out.)

So, back to running. I've spent the last 5 1/2 weeks doing anything but running. Spinning, weights classes, bike riding, step classes, yoga and today, even a kickboxing class that is gonna hurt in the morning.

I actually feel pretty good -- my hip stuff that led to the hamstring tear still feels kind of there, so I don't know what to make of that. But my cardiovascular is really good and I feel strong.

Uh oh, did I just veered into narcissist territory again?

But I don't miss running at all.

And I'm not sure why.

I'll start back this week, just because, well, I can.

I won't run a marathon or more this fall.

But I might do some shorter races.

Maybe.

It's a little like when, earlier this year, I felt driven to take on a new job and challenge -- but discovered my existing professional gig was pretty awesome and suited me very well.

Sometimes I struggle to just stop and enjoy where I am. I have a hard time in stopping this simmering, near-constant feeling like I have to keep pushing harder and harder toward this ambiguous and amorphous goal in my mind that I need to work even harder, and do something remarkable.

Sometimes I don't even know why I'm doing it. It's like trying to find an endzone or a finish line in really thick fog. Who knows if it's even there.

Maybe instead of thinking about all of this stuff when I finally go for a run this week, I'll just tell my brain to shut up. I'll just put on my running shoes, put one foot in front of the other, and enjoy running again.

If you're interested in which it is, I'll be glad to let you know in (hopefully) the least narcissist way possible.