Crunch... crunch... crunch...

Inhale..... Exhale .... Inhale... exhale......

The sound, the feeling, the rhythm of running. It's been lost to me for over three months, but now I am able to experience it again. This time it is much, much different.

I am not a runner by nature. I am a strong swimmer, I tear apart bike courses, and I run steady. No race I have ever won has ever been on the run.

Today I am a runner. I am a born again runner. Each run that I finish I throw my hands in the air and I thank God for the privilege of running.

It's been a long winter, and I am finally emerging from the dark woods that I have called injury. The light is upon me and I am basking in it with happiness and gratitude.

The partial tear of my Achilles tendon has seemingly healed, and I take cautious running steps, as I make a gradual and careful return to my old self. I had forgotten the feeling of running. The sound of my feet and my breath, and suddenly I am somewhere, I am here, I am present within myself. There is no future, no memory, only the here and now.

With injuries and then recovery there comes a certain level of hyper vigilance upon the return. Every step I make an assessment of pain. Does that hurt? Is it good pain, bad pain? What the heck is the difference anymore? There is a ritual of recovery that happens daily, and it would be very easy to skip it. Heat upon rising, heel raises, stretches, heel lifts, ice. Active release therapy. So much attention to a tendon but I'd stick needles in my eyes if I had to.

And I feel lucky. I feel lucky that I am dealing with an athletic injury, when I could be dealing with a terminal illness. I am very much aware that every athletic breath I take is the breath of privilege. I know that too well.

So I continue to run, knowing that I am returning to form, looking forward to a season of racing, so what if it's not an Ironman. I have two of those medals and I will have more. I am lucky regardless. Lucky, healthy and loving the sound of my feet hitting the earth...

As I run.