We all have a history. We all have those certain places where from the moment we arrive we are hit with a wave of nostalgia that washes over us and drenches us in memories of the past.
Having moved around a fair amount as a kid, I actually have several of those places. While I didn’t grow up in New Buffalo, MI, I did spend at least a week of every summer of my life here. So, it’s sort of the thread that runs through all the various parts of my life. It has always been a safe haven, an escape from reality, a breath of fresh air.
This week we had a few days in the middle of the week when I didn’t have to work and the kids didn’t have camp or any other activities, so we decided that this week our “Wednesday Adventure Day” would be a multiple day adventure to visit Grandma. As soon as we hit Exit 1 from 94 and headed into town, the boys started yelling, “I can see the water!” “Hey, look the train tracks!” and “I remember that place!” Of course they remember, they’ve been here literally hundreds of times. But this is the first trip back since last summer so it comes flooding over us with shouts of excitement.
Yesterday was rainy, so we didn’t get to do all the things we had so enthusiastically chattered about in the car on the way up 55. We did manage to sneak in a quick walk on the beach between rain showers and a burger at Redamak’s (If you’ve ever been there, I know you are jealous right now). I also kicked off the trip down memory lane by looking through some old family photo albums. I was in search of a newspaper article from 4th grade to clear up a conversation I had recently been having with Stephanie and Inga at one of our monthly lunch dates. But instead I came across some pictures from our 6th grade production of Dear Abby (It may have been 5th grade, which year did we do Tom Sawyer?). And there in our family album sat a picture of my very own handsome beau, Brian at age 11, as Thomas Jefferson. Funny that he’s been sitting in that album for almost 30 years.
Fortunately, today we awoke to a shining sun. So, Grandma took the kids over to the beach and I set out on a run down memory lane. I was planning on 21ish miles, but as we all know, nothing ever really goes according to plan. I ran the same route that I always run when I’m here. Over the bridge, past the beach and out the lake road. The big differentiator is always where I turn around. Rarely is it ever before Gintara’s Resort where I spent so many summers of my youth. It’s really the perfect picture of what you’d consider memory lane, tree lined with cross streets like Breezy Lane, Shady Lane and Apple Ave.
It’s funny how the past and the present can come crashing together in a place like that. All the new construction which has taken the place of some of the older homes that once stood on that lake mixed in with familiar landmarks like Camp Sokol and ladies in the rocking chairs on the porch at the Lakeside Inn.
I ran along just fine all the way to the end of Lakeshore Road, where it ends at Red Arrow Highway. The out and back would put me at 15 miles, so I’d still have to do a loop through town. I turned around and started back towards where I had been. I saw the little Dutch woman on her bike again and she smiled. I also ran past the cutie-patootie with the backwards baseball hat again and he waved. (Hey, I might be in a relationship but I’m not blind. And we all know I love a visor or a backwards baseball hat. Don’t judge me.) Shortly after that, my lower back started bothering me. What is this?! My legs feel good. I’m not the least bit tired. Why is my back hurting?
As athletes we have conditioned ourselves to press on through the pain. We overlook the ache of fatigued muscles and we occasionally ignore the twinges of pain in our (Achilles, calf, knee, Fill in the blank). We take more than the recommended dosage of Ibuprofen in order to get through a particularly difficult workout. But stop before we’ve completed what we have set out to do? Not a chance. So, of course, I continued running.
That is, until I hit mile 12 where the tweak in my back grew increasingly worse. It was time for me to take an energy gel, so I slowed to walk and pulled one from the pocket of my shorts. I contemplated what to do. I deemed that 21 miles were probably out of the question today, but I wondered if I should call my mom and have her and the kids come pick me up. I decided to walk for a mile or so and see if that helped. And so I walked, back past Apple Ave and many other familiar sights. The thing you need to understand here is, I don’t walk. I don’t like walking. And I felt otherwise fantastic so walking was especially painful at this venture. It’s a pride thing. It feels incomplete. Beyond that, I can’t really explain it.
At Mile 13, I picked it up again. My back still hurt. It wasn’t as bad, but it was still there and quite prevalent. I decided I could make it back to Mom’s, which would put me just over 15 on the day and I’d probably have to call it there.
Once I got back, I took some ibuprofen to help with the inflammation that I’m sure was causing my back troubles. I still had so much energy that it was a disappointing end to my run. I debated what to do? Do I think I could have pushed myself those last 6 miles? Absolutely. Do I think that would have been the best move? Not likely. Think long term goal here…
But cutting my run short today doesn’t mean that’s the anti-climactic end to the story, it means there is more of the story to be written.
Our bodies, and our hearts, are designed to feel pain. And while it is sometimes ok to test our limits with some types of pain, we have to consider what happens when we ignore pain for too long. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. Even when we mask it, it’s still there. But not dealing with it has the potential to cause long term damage, sometimes irreparable damage. Pain is a sucky, albeit necessary, part of life. And we have to be able to discern when to persevere through the pain and when to listen, hearing its instructions to change directions.
Here’s what I know. I ignored a lot of pain for a lot of years. I masked it however I could. But it didn’t go away. Once I finally acknowledged it and altered the route I was on, I put an end to the ailments it caused for so long because I allowed it to heal adequately. And ultimately I have been rewarded for that. More than I ever could have imagined.
My past and my present combine to make me who I am. And this is exactly where I want to be.