*The title of this post is inspired by the song "You Have Never Lived Because You Have Never Died" by the artist "Listener". One of the most powerful songs I've ever heard.
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Some runners have been blessed with injury-free genetics- I am not among them. My injuries started during my first track season in my junior year of high school and have continued to the present day. I've had injuries to my calf, knees, IT band, groin, shins, and hamstring, to go with various sidelining blisters. I've had a high school conference meet, three collegiate track seasons, and one summer training block derailed by injuries. Since graduating from college, I've worked through more little injuries than I care to count, and currently I'm rebounding from another IT band injury stemming from returning to training too soon after a taxing race. It sucks.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
When we are training and healthy, we focus on splits, times, workouts, efficiency, running locations, trails, teammates, friends, speed, racing, and improvement. We lace up our shoes, get our watch, head out the door, get a good run in, think about whatever we want to think about, stretch, roll, and move on with our lives. Many runners thrive on the routine of getting in a daily run at the same time every day; it simultaneously brings a sense of satisfaction and normalcy. We dream of what we can accomplish with unhindered training, whether it's setting a pr, running farther than we have before, or dropping to a certain weight. We often take it for granted.
It starts out with some soreness or tenderness. Something on your run just doesn't feel right, but you're a tough runner and you've had weird soreness and little pains before. You make sure to recover well, maybe throw an ice pack on it, and get some rest. Next day on your run it's worse- you actually feel some pain and you know something isn't right. You try to push a little bit so people don't see you walking, but eventually you'll have to do the walk of shame back to where you started. You sit down, coming to the eventual realization that something isn't right, and your body is not happy with you.
You see, running injuries are different compared to other sports. In many sports, the injuries are obvious- ACL tears, broken/sprained bones, concussions, etc. When an athlete gets an injury like that, it's not difficult to diagnose initially, and a rehabilitation program follows almost immediately. Running injuries are mostly what's called 'overuse injuries', which is when you work a certain muscle, ligament, or bone until it cries out for rest in the form of breakdown or inflammation. This means that instead of that one moment where pain erupts from a certain location, this pain will appear slowly over time, sometimes only while running. It's difficult to discern initially. This leads to runners undervaluing their pre-injury and continuing on down a path of despair. Soon there is a stoppage in running, a diagnosis, and a search for a solution.
Here's where injuries deliver their most important and life-giving attribute: a chance to re-discover your body. You might think you know your body, but once you've had to journey through an injury, you find that you never really did. Most running injuries are fixed by rest and targeted muscle strengthening. You see, the human body- I've learned through injury- is a kinetic chain. That hamstring injury might be affected by the glutes, and that knee injury might have something to do with your hips. My current injury on the outside of my knee is the result of my hips and IT band.
Knowing that an injury coming from weakness allows you new insight. Every rehab exercise finds a specific muscle and attempts to strengthen it. Each part of your legs becomes the subject of your focus, and you take extra care to bring every muscle up the speed, and you'll continue to do that after you're healthy again.
All of this occurs while you can't run. You never realize how important getting out the door and running every day affects your mood and outlook. Running turns from this daily chore, to suddenly something that you crave and miss- it's almost as if the joy of it comes back and appears as a result of injury. That return of joy can make it all worth it.
Most of the time, injury takes away something you love, forces you to take care of your body in a new way, and only gives it back when you've reached rock bottom. Today, while walking home after only being able to run for 8 minutes, I was stunned by how peaceful going for a walk in the evening is. Usually while running, it's hard to truly appreciate and take in my surroundings, but while walking, I float through the dark silently. I never would take this time to appreciate the beauty of quiet darkness if not for the injury. I come home and do exercises that will make me stronger- something I don't take time to do when I'm healthy. Every running step I get to take these days is a celebration of health and joy, something I now refuse to take for granted. I have not ever appreciated running more than I have after being injured. We grow as runners from our injuries. It sucks right now, and it's going to suck as long as I can't run, but I know that the breath of fresh air will come. When I come out, I'll be a new, hopefully happier runner. I'll be new.
