Dear Run God's, It's Me, Amy.
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2013 post hip labrum repair surgery
Dear Run Gods, it's me, Amy.
I vow to remain humble no matter how strong, confident, and prepared I am.
As long as you let me run.
I promise not to complain that it is too hot, cold, humid, or hilly to run.
As long as you let me run.
I pledge to listen to my coach and follow sound training principles.
Just please, please, please let me run!
Even though I'm a science girl and require proof and evidence, a tiny part of me is superstitious, like when it comes to the belief in running gods. These deities sit on bleachers high up in the clouds dressed in robes and running shoes. You can doubt them all you want, but take it from me; you better not piss them off. Instead, follow the three commandments of running.
The Three Commandments of Running
Thou shall be humble.
You must quell overconfidence and display humility, or the run gods will conjure up things like a pothole smack dab in the middle of the road within the first two miles of a half marathon when the field is wall to wall runners, so you can't see it. Your left foot lands in it, and you fall face-first onto the pavement. True story! Flying Pig 2016.
Or they may concoct extreme heat and humidity the likes that no marathon has yet seen. So severe that race organizers run out of water. Runners are carted from the finish line in wheelchairs with their eyes rolling into the back of their heads. All while police are hovering above in helicopters, yelling into megaphones, "The race is canceled. Stop running…" even though you are only two miles away from the finish. And then, if you go ahead and finish it anyway, the running gods will bestow the gift of Morton's Neuroma for your subversion. Morton's Neuroma is an injury of a nerve in the foot, in case you are wondering.
Coach Amy’s Finishes her First Marathon. Chicago 2007.
Thou shall not complain.
Suppose you get complacent in training and even dare to complain about speed work, hill repeats, or any running workout. In that case, the run gods may cackle while shooting bolts of lightning that induce running injuries like a hip labrum tear or patellofemoral pain syndrome, aka "runner's knee" or, gods forbid, plantar fascitis! Check, check and check - had them all.
Then, suppose you ignore the injury, and the god's become even angrier. In that case, you may end up on the surgical table or in physical therapy for months, sidelined on the couch on Saturday mornings, staring out the window aiming to shoot down any healthy runner you see bouncing happily down the road. Knee surgery 2009 and hip surgery 2013.
Thou shall follow sound training advice.
You must listen to your coach and/or adhere to training guidelines like "do not eat creamy, fatty goodness like mushrooms risotto the night before a race." Because if you don't, the running gods may beget a malady like Runner's Trots, so you poop your pants, and EVERYONE at the finish line stops clapping and stares at you in disgust. Even the medical tent volunteers back away from you. Uh-huh - Flying Pig 2016.
Crime scene photo: Mushrooms Risotto at pre-race dinner.
Superstitious or not, it behooves you to respect the run gods and escape their wrath: remain humble, don’t complain, and follow sound training principles. And even then, beware, these gods are fickle, and anything can happen.