Machine Woman

Well, it’s been almost 5 weeks since St. George and I’m still hardly running. My injuries are teasing me — they disappear when I don’t run, making me think that they’re gone and that my body is ready to start again. So I’ll try running a few miles, easy, but then pay for it by not running a step for another week, and the process repeats itself — the “Injured Runner Dance” as Carl calls it.

I haven’t been riding my road bike all that much these days either. Although fun, cycling isn’t nearly as simple as running, and it takes too much time that I just don’t have. In addition, my bike also recently suffered an overuse injury (a broken derailleur cable), and my bike buddies (a.k.a. “The Molecular Mavericks”) have been less enthusiastic lately on account of new jobs and new babies. Not to mention the sun sets before 6 now, so if I don’t go in the frigid morning (yes, SB is slowly softening me) it just doesn’t happen.

I’ve never been one to sit still however, and so every day I’ve been waking up by 6 (late for a runner, I know, but the Rec Cen doesn’t open until 6:30) and riding my commuter bike over to campus for 80 minutes or so of elliptical trainer, exercise bike, row machine, or stair climber. “I can’t believe you do that,” Carl says to me on almost a daily basis. “How can you stand it?” Well, truth is, I’m getting pretty darn sick of it, but to look on the bright side there are a few things that I really like about it.

First, I do more reading than I’ve done in years. The LA Times, Runner’s World, National Parks Magazine, novels (usually about running), you give it to me and I’ll read it (well, maybe). Often when I’m up for an extra challenge I’ll take with me papers from the Journal of Virology or Molecular Biology of the Cell or something scholarly like that. What better way to pass the time than to study microscope images, FACS data, and western blots? Perhaps it’s my BONECRUSHER instinct, but I take pride in the fact that I can absorb such complex material while doing 25% more strides per minute than the girl next to me.

Second, it is somewhat of a routine, something that I need and thrive on. It adds structure to my day, enabling me to carry on with my other daily activities, and serves as a reminder that there’s more to my life than just my school work. I am an athlete, after all.

Third, in some ways it feels healthier than running or biking. I tend to drink more water and absorb less UV radiation and the machines put less stress on my joints and ligaments. Moreover, the risks involved are pretty much null, especially compared to biking where death always seems imminent.

Well, I can try to be as optimistic as possible, but the truth of the matter is that I miss my former life. I was once a runner, now I’m just a machine woman. I’m envious of all the runners I see, however recreational they seem, and I sigh each time I pass by the UCSB track on my way to the Rec Cen. Turning curves and running straightaways over and over seems so much more pure, so much more real, than sweating away on a machine. At this point I don’t really care about the Olympic Trials or even setting PRs. I just want to be running.