I made a button that said, "It is a race."
Lately, it seems I'm losing that race. I've had moments like this before. There are foot races where I am so overmatched that it isn't even worth the energy to focus on the leaders. I just let them go and focus on my own abilities. Others aren't a factor in my race anymore. I need more of this right now in the metaphorical race.
There have been other races where I've been hanging around only to slowly fall off the pace. I watch as my opponent pulls ahead even though I'd swear that my stride hasn't changed. I can grit my teeth, squint my eyes, and try to will myself back on the pace, but often that only serves me for a few steps before I falter. I've found this happening to me as I walk lately. It happened a lot on stairs this past weekend. I'd be plugging along and my group would motor on ahead. It happened subtly, I was hardly aware until they were yards ahead.
I'm happy to be walking and walking almost normally, but this inability to keep pace is staggering. Before I had pain as an explanation, but the pain is mostly gone. Now I only have slow. My gears are stripped. I can only plod. So, I plod.
I don't know when I'll be able to run again, but I got out on the bike for the first time since March tonight. It was scary. Even small hills were massive since I had minimal pushing power. It was good to be out, but there was no darting across streets or whizzing down the trail. Self-propelled movement even at this reduced speed felt foreign. It may have been like riding a bike, but I felt heavy, tentative, and weak.
This race is not going to be won in a week or a month. The long road back continues.