Writing and running are very similar. Sometimes you go slowly, painfully slowly. All you want to do is stop and do something else. Other times you are flying. There is no stopping you and you sail through 10 miles/2000 words feeling energetic.
Both of these activities bring me happiness. I know this. And yet I sometimes let them both slide although I know that as soon as I write even one sentence, or run even 100 metres the happiness chemicals kick in and I immediately feel incredible. Both are always good reminders of who I am and what it means to Be Laura.
A lot has happened since I last posted here (which admittedly was way too long ago): Last September Maria and I took a 9-day trip around Iceland with Nahuel. It was the most amazing experience and I think I can use the royal ‘we’ when I say we definitely recommend visiting, and spending as much time there as you can to get around and see the country. The landscapes will astound you. Nahuel turned one with a big party at home at the end of September which was fantastic. He’s 17 months today and just a fabulous little boy. We travelled to spend Christmas with family in the UK and then had 12 days in Denmark over New Year. This was all wonderful.
But on top of that, in early December, I had a miscarriage. It was heart-breaking and painful and sad. We received a lot of support from friends and family here in Luxembourg around the world and we got through it. But while it was happening and in order to help me deal with it there were two things I had to do: write and run.
Writing a post on my other blog (which you can read HERE) really helped me deal with what was happening and express my feelings. It was extremely cathartic.
And then there was the run I will never forget. It was the Sunday evening of the worst weekend ever. I was in some pain and I decided to go for a run. I laced up, bundled up and set out along the river. My iPod chose which songs to stream into my ears and I just tried to focus on my body, the water drifting by next to me and any feelings which cropped up. There were a lot of emotions as I ran. One surprising one was gratitude. The last kilometre a song came on which just seemed to speak straight to me (I forget what it was now) and I pumped my arms and filled my lungs and pounded forwards. My body still worked! It could still do powerful things, despite not working with nature to keep the child we had made. I could still rely on it in so many ways. Thank you! Twilight descended. I sprinted towards home racing to the ‘finish line’ barely able to breathe and tears streaming down my face.
I stayed outside for a long while, letting out my sadness but also being grateful. No matter how hard we try, we can’t control everything. Writing and running helped me deal with that, and that just felt so good.
I’ve said more than once that I need a right leg transplant. I know I shouldn’t joke. There are people with no legs. I should be grateful. But it’s always my right leg that kicks up a fuss and gets injured.
I finally got round to seeing the doctor and he ordered a scan on my leg. I treated this information with a yucky look and he simply abated my worries by saying, “Don’t worry, this is Luxembourg. You don’t have to wait or to pay.” Excellent news. I also liked this doctor for another two reasons: he had a huge print of Audrey Hepburn on his office wall, and after feeling my legs he told me they were “very strong”. Perfect! (But why is the right one not right?)
So, Monday I found myself laying face down as another doctor took a scan of my right heel. Well, I thought he was going to investigate my heel, you know, where it hurts. Nope. I was there for about fifteen minutes as he took long looks at the inside of my leg and foot, up behind and around my knee too. It was amazing. He must have taken a hundred shots of my leg. I like these thorough Luxembourg doctors. Straight to it.
He happily told me the pain has nothing to do with any “serious disease” and that although I have an old scar there, there is also a slight pull or tendonitis. Well, that doesn’t sound too threatening to my running dreams. I now await to see my Audrey Hepburn doctor with excitement, especially at being able to click through all the photos of my leg inside. What does it really look like in there?
This positive news, and the fact that the pills the Audrey Hepburn doctor had given me meanwhile were working, meant I treated myself to a little trot yesterday. It was a beautiful day and I ran along the river in the sunshine, following the swans and dodging the German cyclists. Heaven.
I know I need to be patient and there are no short cuts to health and fitness, but a little more of this and I’ll be as right as rain.