"Fear" - new to my running vocab 3/13

So I was a good little runner and kinda sorta followed the non-docs orders and rested for a week-ish. Ok, 5 days, but I think he only said a week, knowing there was no way I'd go full term on that one. He knew I wouldn't last that long. I knew I wouldn't last that long. What I didn't know, was that there'd be a new evil little roadblock I'd have to confront before hitting the pavement once again- fear.

I was taken aback by the sudden assault of self-doubt and an overawareness of the fragile state of my feeble body. (As I type the chilling words of a precious shall-remain-nameless family member echo through my mind "Your not 21 anymore.") Ok, my body is not what you might qualify as "feeble" and my "injury" is not what you would think of when you read the quotation-marked word "injury" but an almost-week on the bench can do all kinds of damage to the psyche. Suddenly I'm spiraling down the dark roads of "what if it'll never be healed" and "what if you do more damage" and "what if you can never run further or faster than your current penguin-pace." I *almost* dreaded going back out of sheer terror that my running career had ended before the smoke had even cleared from the starting gun.

Only one way to conquer your fears, Jes. So I ran.
Slow at first, nearly holding my breath (figuratively speaking, have you ever tried holding your breath while running- doesn't work)in anticipation of the pain, but as one mizuno chased the other, the dark clouds broke and soon there was nothing but southern sunshine beating down on my perspired face. Ahhh, its good to be home.

Fear annulled.