For myself—and many runners I talk with—the hardest part of running has always been not running. However hard the long runs may be, the weeks of increased mileage, the mind-bending, quad-busting hill training, the marathons, the ultra distances, it is rarely the running that presents the biggest challenge. It's the NOT running.Not running from choice is one thing. Developing the muscle of self-supportive discipline to build in rest days as a regular part of your running schedule is a foundational skill. You may not think you need it in your twenties of even thirties. But if you intend to still be running at 40, 50, 70, even 80+, you must develop it. Must.
Not running because you can't is quite another. There's really only ever one reason why I CAN'T run and that is because of injury. All the other can'ts that I might create are just that—creations, better known as choices. Work, time, busy-ness, etc, etc, these are all reflections of the things I might choose to prioritize over my running. But injury is different.
I've had my share of injuries over the years, the latest of which has been a bout of Achilles tendinitis. As I saw the swelling on my left tendon grow over the period of a couple of weeks, I watched my habitual mind jump in: "It'll go away on its own; You just need to run it out; it's nothing serious."
Now I've run "through" a couple of injuries in the past. The first was a hip strain and the second was plantar fascitis. I kept going as I sought to smother the wisdom my own body was seeking to share with me. In the end, my body had the final word in both situations. The hip thing sidelined me for 9 months. The plantar fascitis for 18 months.
I thought I knew better than my body. No longer is that deception running in my mind. Nevertheless, to take the recommended 10-12 weeks off for the tendinitis is a tall stretch for any runner. 3 months. Geez. After completing the Long Beach Marathon last October, I committed to do just that. I did not run again until December 23rd, for a total of just over 11 weeks.
There's only so much fun I can derive from stationery biking and I find swimming crushingly boring. I lifted some weights and worked on my core strength and slowly moved into rehab exercises, balance, stability, and the like. But all the time, whatever I was doing, I was NOT running.
For eight weeks, there were the mood swings, even depression, dark thoughts, introversion, an overall weight gain of about ten pounds. I was hating life. Myself. My world. No writing here either. Then I got the inspirational text message at the start of this entry and everything shifted. The funniest part about that was that I wrote it! I subscribe to my own service and it had sent me a message I had not remembered writing as part of a database of many hundreds of messages.
Some other, wiser part of me was reminding me that not running is always a part of running. And that injury, for almost every runner, is a part of our landscape. Hopefully, it is one that we do not visit too often. But the more prepared we are to find our way around in that landscape, and to listen to the professional guide of our body as we do, the less time we have to spend there. A sensitive, mature, patient approach to injury rehab is an integral part of the runner's toolbox.
I missed the rhythmic cadence of my foot fall over those 11+ weeks. I've missed the early morning sounds of my regular routes: the water birds along the LA River and the lapping waves along the beach. But there is also one sound I have not heard during that time that I do not miss—the sudden, shotgun snap of a tendon pushed too far. A sound that would have announced a minimum of six to nine months recovery.
I eased out on my first run, December 23, in the deep snow up in Idyllwild. What a way to return! Out in the wild, in the snow, at over 6,000 feet. Moving slowly, tingling with joy. I felt alive once again—and even more so as I came across the fresh mountain lion tracks in the snow. That wondrous blend of aliveness and fear that comes from recognizing that I am part of the food chain!I'll be running the Surf City Marathon in 3 weeks— a wonderfully flat course, perfect for my evolving recovery and strength building. It has been a delicate balance to build up my mileage a little quickly, while still listening to the feedback from my body. So far, so good.
With continued care and the ongoing willingness to listen to what my body has to tell me, I will complete Surf City and graduate from injury school with honors!
