Injuries are torturous both physically and mentally. Not that I would have been able to tell you that firsthand until about a month ago. Somehow, despite participating in fairly high-risk sports my whole life, I was blessed to never have been injured. Sure, sometimes things hurt or I was sore, I am not claiming to be superhuman, but it was always tolerable and went away without any residual complications. Even when I jumped right into running marathons with reckless abandon, almost exactly a year ago, I was still an injury virgin. So why was it that two weeks before the NJ Marathon at the end of a completely injury-free training cycle that went so well and where I hardly ever even felt the effects of my long runs, I suddenly could hardly walk, let alone run? Note: this is a rhetorical question and I am not really interested in hearing once again that I ran too much, or anything of that nature.
The clichéd lyrics of the song
Big Yellow Taxi by
Joni Mitchell, “Don't it always seem to go/ That you don't know what you got till it's gone” have run through my mind on more than one occasion. So true. I definitely took a lot for granted and often forgot to really appreciate running. Suddenly the thing I looked forward to most in my day and that made my whole life brighter was gone. I had no idea what to do with myself. I honestly could not remember what I used to do with my life before I started running and consolations of “now you can do all the stuff you normally don’t have time for” were no comfort at all. I was not interested in doing those things. If they were important to me, I would have already made time for them. I wanted to run! Unfortunately, wanting only takes you so far when you can barely do three limping strides before wanting to start crying from the pain. I could have easily tried to hide myself from anything running related, but I found it oddly comforting continuing life as before, so I continued attending Flyers events, going to marathons that I was supposed to run to cheer on teammates, and just generally doing all the things I would have done before, except without running.
However, the stage of denial can only last so long. I tried everything, including massages, ice baths, warm
Epsom salt baths,
foam rolling, stretching, over-dosing on cherries (apparently the anti-inflammation superfood for marathon runners) and even taking painkillers for the first time in my life (seriously). Each morning I would open my eyes and hope that it was the day I would be magically better, but no luck. Then doomsday arrived; the day that I said I would see a sports medicine specialist if I had not gotten better. I solicited help from fellow Flyers for doctor recommendations, received so much support and help, and was able to schedule two appointments in the following two days. I was petrified of what they would find. Of course the one thing I had started doing with all the time I was not running was looking up every single horrible possibility of what could be wrong with me as reading about all the possibilities proved to be quite interesting (and addicting).
I turned out to be quite fortunate. The consensus of all the specialists I have seen seems to be that it was
weak muscles creating compensation issues and extreme muscle tightness. In some ways it seems unfair that whatever has been causing me all this hardship does not even have a proper name making it seem less legitimate when it is definitely real! Yet, namelessness is better than the alternative. I have been given permission to run, but it still hurts and does not feel normal. I cannot wait for the day when running feels effortless again and while I cannot promise not to take things for granted, I will try not to forget how lucky I am to be able to run. However, one thing is certain. I will not forget how kind and supportive everyone has been. Thank you! I am lucky to know such a great group of people and if any of you has any secrets/miracles to get rid of my pain that you are keeping from me, please let me know!
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