Yesterday I didn’t run. Thursdays are almost always a running day for me. I had my bag packed and in the car ready to go, but I didn’t run.
If you know me you know that I was stalked by a mentally ill stranger two years ago. As a result I have Complex PTSD. So yesterday when a car pulled out behind me as I was leaving for work my physical reaction of course was worst case scenario.
Despite telling myself over and over again on the drive to work that I was ok, my body refused to cooperate. As I was hanging up my coat at work someone behind me said good morning and it startled me so bad I started crying.
I rarely take Xanax. In fact I hadn’t taken one since the summer, but yesterday I did.
It serves it’s purpose but it wipes me out. Then I feel like I’m hung over. I wound up taking my lunch early so that I could nap. Then I napped after work. And fell asleep on the couch a little after 9:00.
I didn’t beat myself up over skipping my run. I knew that physically and mentally it was a no go. This morning I woke up still tired.
As the day went on I felt better. There were no lingering effects from the day before. When lunch time came I laced up and got out the door.
It was 19 degrees, windy and icy out but I was grateful nonetheless.
Days like yesterday don’t make for a splashy social media photo. The three miles I ran today weren’t anything special either. But I was able to overcome the invisible obstacle of PTSD. I did not let it derail me for more than a day. That in of itself is a victory.