Are You An Injured Runner? It’s Going To Be Okay.

It’s been over 17 weeks since Javelina (but who’s counting?) And I’ve been healing from one of my patented Vague Soft Tissue Injuries ®, that take forever to heal. Immediately post-race I had a strain in my left tensor fasciae latae that made even walking extremely painful. For those unfamiliar, the TFL is a small hip muscle that does a lot of things, and mine likes to pretend it can do the full work of a hip flexor and abductor. (Spoiler, it can’t, at least not over 100 miles.) While that was on the mend, I developed a deep pain in my right psoas and gluteus muscles whenever I try to run. With the application of physical therapy, acupuncture, and massage, the pain is improving at the breakneck speed of a glacier. Ambiguous and slow-healing injuries are the most fun, amiright?

I’ve written about the emotions and internal dialogue of injury and the challenge of persistence versus patience in healing. Having gone through past injuries, I should be a wise ole bird about the current one, right? So, #realtalk, not always. I go through phases of positivity and negativity about the whole thing. I had the faint hope that if I didn’t write about my current injury, it would heal quicker (I mean, denial always works, right?) because it was only a blip. A hip blip.

I doubt it’s catastrophic, but it’s not just a blip. So I decided to write myself a letter of encouragement. And in case you, your friend, or random internet acquaintance might need it too.

Dear Incredible Being,

As an athlete, it can be difficult to accept the current state of your body and fitness. It’s always been about improvement: train harder, lift more, run faster, eat better, and you’ll see those gains, level up, and be forever better. Except it’s really about cycles. Completely avoiding injury is rare for an athlete. And when your post-injury self finally gets back into training, you can’t pick up where you left off. Nevermind that you were doing 50+ mile weeks in the fall. You’re not now. And guess what? That’s okay. 

One more time for those in the back. That’s okay.

Treat your body with some grace. It’s not a machine after all. Your body grows, atrophies, develops, and changes over the course of years. It doesn’t mean you’ll never be strong again or that you’re relegated to being a couch potato forever. It may take time, but you will heal and rebuild. Be patient. Healing isn’t linear, so some days it may be better, and other days it may be worse. Yes, this may feel dire, and frustrating beyond belief, which is completely understandable. But remember, you know you’ll heal in a week or eight, and be back training with your friends soon enough. Why can you have faith in this? Because you’ve gone through this before, and come out the other end with even more passion and gratitude for every mile.

Don’t forget that your body is amazing. Truly. As an athlete, you ask an awful lot of it. Like, running for hours on end week after week… after week. You love it, but that’s a lot more miles on your legs than the average person. (Remember how people like to say “I don’t even like to drive that far!”) So it’s fair that once in awhile your body gives you the middle finger and demands a rest, whether you want it or not.

Reflecting on what you can’t do right now does nothing for you. Or your mental state. All it really does is amp up the pity party like a toddler pounding pixie sticks and Mountain Dew. What can you gain in the meantime? Focus on that upper body and core work you’ve always meant to do? Perhaps developing physical strength in another sport or in preparation of your desired training? A new hobby you’ve always wanted to try but didn’t have time for? Time with your friends and family that often gets shunted aside when you’re in the throes of training?

You don’t have to put your whole life on pause while you’re healing.

It may feel catastrophic to miss out on the running plans you’ve so meticulously prepared. But you’re more than just your athletic ability. You are a whole person. And you have to meet your body where it’s at and be grateful for what you can do in this moment. The trails will wait, whether it’s one week, eight, or more.

So rest up, recuperate, and rejuvenate your passion now because you’ll be back out there soon.

Hugs and whisky,

Me