Injuries

Two days ago, I was supposed to be running in my second half marathon. I’ve been training for months despite some setbacks. I got COVID around Week 6 (of 12) of training and it took three weeks before I was able to walk a mile without needing a break. But I kept trying. I kept walking every day to try and regain my endurance. 

Then 10 days out from the race, SoCal was hit with some pretty serious rain. When there was a break in the rain, I seized the opportunity to go on a sand run. My thought was it would work as a strength and endurance run. But about 1.5mi from home, it started pouring rain and I wasn’t prepared. I ran home as fast as I could, not stopping when I felt what I thought was a severe cramp in my leg. 

The next few days I was barely able to walk without pain, let alone run. Then seven days before race day, my friends and I had our annual new year hike. Within five minutes at a minor incline, I knew I shouldn’t do it. I limped through the entire five miles. As we were approaching the waterfall at the end, I slipped in the rain-swollen river and fell, slamming my other leg into a boulder. 

But I don’t like giving up on things, and certainly not because of a little pain (🙄). I looked at the weather for race day and one of the huge rainstorms we’re experiencing here in SoCal was supposed to hit 24hrs before and during the race. So did I decide it was a bad idea to run in the rain while injured? No. I ordered a rain jacket designed for running that would arrive just in time. 

Five days out from the race I tried a little jog on a track at the gym. Nothing wild. Just a very slow jog that might as well have been a walk. After 10min, I was feeling good. My shin contusion from the river fall was throbbing with each pounding step, but not bad. My calf was… well it was moving and that was good enough for me. 

A new song came on, the beat started pumping and I took TWO — yes, only two — semi-faster steps. And my calf seized up. I was unable to take another step. I couldn’t point my foot to walk, let alone put any pressure on it like you do in a normal step. 

I was defeated. There was no way I could recover in time to run 13.1 miles if I couldn’t even walk a yard. But me being me, I went home, continued to do all of the rehab activities I could find online. I got an email with my bib number… it had both of Kobe Bryant’s jersey numbers in it. That had to be a sign I was meant to run this race, right? I was determined to push through. 

How many times have you rolled your eyes at me by this point? 😅

But then that night I was honest with myself for the first time in days… There was no coming back from this injury in time for the race. There was no way to make it happen. I couldn’t will my calf to heal from whatever was going on, and anything else I did would only cause further damage.

I had worked so hard for this for months. I was running in remembrance of my mom. We’d always planned to run this particular half together but cancer got in the way. I like running long distances. This wasn’t going to be my last half marathon. But I’d assigned importance to it. 

So as I sat in bed, taking inventory of my day, and the week that lay ahead, I was honest: I had to withdraw. I let myself think I was going to maybe run it and gave myself until the last minute to withdraw… but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

Three days before the race, my sister (who has run many half marathons and was planning to drive out in support) called me because I’d told her I wasn’t running. She asked, “Are you disappointed?” 

I thought for a second and said probably the most realistic thing I’d said to myself in days: “I’m ok. I mean, of course I’m disappointed. I was really looking forward to this. But I know this is out of my hands and I’m ok with being ok with that.” 

Here’s where I’m finally getting to the point of this week’s 1% Better: I don’t have a problem with failure. I think failure often leads to breakthroughs. But I have a problem with allowing myself to defeat myself. The only person who could pull me out of this race was me. And I did that because my body defeated my will. 

After reflecting, I was ok with that. Because accepting what we can’t control is a key to happiness. And I know it sounds cliché, but the moment I released the expectation that I’d run, I felt ease and freedom. The same freedom I normally feel on a run when the path is wide open.

I will run again. In the scope of injuries, this is nothing. It’s just bad timing. There is something so special about running. I like to take a mindful moment on each run and feel pure gratitude that I have a body that is healthy enough to put on some shoes and go run for hours if I want to.

Even in the face of defeat against a calf-sized opponent, I chose to lean in to the feeling. To acknowledge that this was now part of my running journey. Embracing it brought me unexpected joy and an excitement to get out there and run again — whenever that may be — instead of a crushing pressure to miraculously heal my injury in 72 hours. 

Whether physical or mental, we don’t get to choose how fast our injuries heal. No amount of stress or pressure will make us heal faster, and it can cause us to make bad choices, setting our recovery back further. 

So I encourage you to think of an “injury” you have that you are trying to rush a healing. Are you actually physically hurt like me? Are you repairing or recovering from a bad relationship (friends, family, romantic, etc.)? Is there a trauma in your past that seems like a mental hurdle that haunts you? 

Give those injuries space. Acknowledge them; don’t shut them out. Once you do, you create the space for them to heal and free yourself from the pressure to do the impossible and rush time. You will heal. It just takes being vulnerable with yourself and creating space for a new experience to be born out of your healing journey.