Born not to run

I must admit that I never thought of plantar fasciitis as a real injury. “Big deal, your heel hurts,” was my general opinion. Then, I got my karmic revenge- I got plantar fasciitis. It’s been more than two years, and I hardly remember what it felt like to walk and run pain free. I’ve done a round of cortisone injections, physical therapy, switched shoes, got orthotics, slept with a horrible foot brace to keep my foot flexed, and shivered multiple times a day as I iced my feet. And yet every step still hurts, a lot.
Some part of me knows that stopping running and high impact activity might resolve it. But it would be stopping for a long time, and I have trouble taking a single day off. Working out is my sanity, in a life where I spend 14 hours a week on a plane and 10-12 hours sitting at a desk. Not only is running the most physically and mentally satisfying, it is often the only practical option, as I’m away from home and need to work-out in the early morning before the gym is open. The daily sweat session is my absolution from guilt about what I ate, it is my peace from the constant bombardment of e-mail and phones, it is a chance to remember who I am. I can’t give that up, even if it means living in pain.