Pushups in the Rain

I found a new use for coban. Rainy, busy day. Determined to get my run in around noon. Realized I had neglected to bring my running bra. After a moment of cursing under my breath, my wilderness medicine skills kicked in. Coban: truly versatile. I am thinking of starting a new line of running bras for emergencies, called "CoBras".

As I ran in the rain with my CoBra comfortable enough I forgot it was even there, I pondered the last few weeks. They have been defined by sore legs and a tight ass, compassion fatigue and a whole lot of injuries for Warrior's players.

My engine is all revved up in some ways, but the daily running for almost 200 days now does leave me with a bit of that exhaustion peculiar to marathon training. It goes into your bones, and drags you to the couch more often than usual. There are three spots, one on each leg plus a butt cheek, that are so tight that when I first start running I am fairly certain I look exactly like my father did when he moaned and groaned getting up from the sofa after a nap, walking like Frankenstein. Like with marathon training, I am acutely aware of injury risk, so I have been trying to tone down the pace and mileage a bit. Probably should stop for a few days but I am not yet ready to take orders from my butt. Rx: massage.

An occupational therapist I work with (incidentally, it is occupational therapy month, so go thank one) suggested a foam roller on steroids. Which is to say it has a rechargeable battery that allows it to vibrate, at three different speeds. It is magnificent. Though my IT band is still hiding under the bed.

Compassion fatigue is the buzz word of the early 21st century for those in the business of caring for others. When I run, I try to stop thinking about the suffering, except my own (see above, re tight ass). Still, my brain is like a spin cycle, all the tough stains of concern agitating around from lobe to lobe. Doctors like to fix stuff, but it turns out there is not a lot we can actually completely fix. Oh, we can comfort till the cows come home, and that is my best power, but comforting takes a lot more out of a person than, say, prescribing an ACE inhibitor or cutting out a stony gallbladder.

Last night I dreamed I accidentally left my hospital shift to go to a fundraiser at the mall, then got lost trying to find my way back, and was really stressed about getting my rounds done, then went for a run in the forest and found myself lost again on a snowy crag with mountains rising, and the thing that really got me was I did not have my Garmin on to record my run. I asked for directions back home, not remembering so many snow capped mountains in my redwood forest in the past. No one could help. A fair amount of brain energy was spent deciding how to describe this run on Strava, as it would not have the usual hard data. About how far did I go? What pace? I got a good picture of the mountains though, so there was that.

As I ran in the rain with my coban bra, I thought about kindness. When I have "compassion fatigue", I am less kind. Kindness is a superpower. It requires putting the ego under wraps, finding the beauty and humor in each interaction, absorbing anger that was never meant for you, then melting it with your strong, unflappable heart, beating warm and solid and bradycardic.

The Warriors have disappointed me in that respect in recent weeks. Their coach, Steve Kerr, is someone I deeply respect. For instance, he speaks honestly and openly about gun violence, and has some personal experience with this as his father was gunned down. He and his team usually model sportsmanship and joy in the game of basketball. Lately I have noticed more anger right on the surface. Anger about calls, technical fouls stacking up. Granted, it is not their responsibility to be nice. But I have a theory, and that is that kindness helps people win.

Handing the ball to your competitor would be stupid (hey, Warriors, enough with the turn overs!), letting someone elbow you out of your lane on the track foolish. But solidity of purpose, on a foundation of benevolence, with compassion to self and others, with unrelenting hard work, using actions to show prowess, not words of hate or boasting, and the ability to do joyful pushups when you fall in the rain steps before finishing a disappointing marathon? Superpowers.

As I ran in the rain, breasts cobaned, I wondered if I would ever see sub 7's again.

I don't really want to race again until I do.

Self kindness: a work in progress.

Meb always signs his autograph with the words "Run to win".
The kindness to self and others part? Super powerful. I don't really want to race again until I can do pushups in the rain.