writing running wrongs

If I had been running like a gazelle, I would not have been told to run on my toes (forefoot strike). With a blow to the ego, I found out that I run like a marionette. Actually, the coach lacked the poetic turn of phrase, I offer it now. As I ran off after seeing his expression - the brave man having volunteered to watch me run a portion of the track - the words that came to me were actually less forgiving: "runs like a handicapped chicken" would perhaps be the most apt description. He trains national teams, and then there are runners like me.
My quads hurt so much now that I cannot walk down stairs without hanging on the banister. This evening  a friend recommended not turmeric but Mg tablets - and I am now singing the praises of minerals.
This is the first time in 15 months of running that I question what on earth I am doing. The pain I felt at the beginning was very real, there were actually weeks I could not squat, but I was on a quest at that time to overcome circumstantial defeat by setting my own further goals. And the mission remains, but it is kind of defeating to know now that when I venture out I am taking my inconsistently cartoonish movements on public display. Ignorance is bliss!
It is defeating to know that on top of the sacrifice, sacrifice is added. But I should have seen it coming: I was once called "marionette" when I began training capoeira by a Russian neurologist. My unique moves did not stop him and our most promising capoerista from becoming my friends, though. I will be thinking of them as my shields as I return to running through the city center.
"Your disability is your opportunity" - Kurt Hahn (Victorian educator, father of Outward Bound survival camps).
Through the body, to the soul. The soul: that invisible category that some might say does not exist, but that comes out precisely through the effort of overcoming disability. It becomes apparent against the backdrop of the threat of quitting. Some people seem lucky and are never exposed in this way: protected by natural talent or not moving at all. I feel like I have never been protected by that luck, always exposed as the ugly duckling, but all I have to give back to life is not the perfect performance but one hell of an effort. I ran a marathon like a duck! Maybe there's a story there. (Cont'd...)

Brush: ewansim via Deviantart.

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