#exercisewithdrawal

Everything was going swimmingly. In February I proudly amassed 184.8 miles without going batshit crazy with long distances. Merely running most days, sometimes twice, though admittedly without a foam roller or an elaborate set of dynamic stretches in sight. And then disaster struck. Last month my milometer totalled zero. Nada. Zilch. The reason for this dramatic decline, a fateful morning run-commute which lasted only a few yards. My abdomen yelled in excruciating agony. Shooting chest pains, leaving me bent double, struggling to walk let alone jog. The intense sense of discomfort lessened as the hours passed, but I was still grimacing a few days later. No more parkruns, no more run-commuting, no more endorphins. I’d been relegated to the non-runner’s corner, longingly eyeing other runners and reading their endeavours with more than a hint of jealousy and frustration.

To read the rest, visit the Good People Run blog.