Coming back from a big injury
It’s really all mental.
I got a lot of good questions this week, but I really like this one because there is so much emotion wrapped around it. I’ve been there myself. I know the pain and heartbreak of having to start from the bottom and work your way back up. I’ve done it several times.
What are we talking about? We are talking about that injury that takes you out for 6 weeks or 2 years. We’re talking about that injury that is significant enough to stop you in your tracks. You are forced to stop running.
Maybe it’s a stress fracture. Maybe it’s a torn Achilles. Maybe it’s surgery or a sickness. Maybe it’s a car accident. Whatever it is, it knocks you right out of your running routine back onto the couch.
Frankly we are our own worst enemies. We don’t know when to stop. We keep pushing the limits until it’s too late and we’re forced off our feet. We also tend to be super-injury-paranoid as runners. Who hasn’t gotten a sharp pain somewhere after a run and thought “Maybe this is it? I’ll never run again!”
Sure, we’re drama queens. It’s only because we have invested so much of ourselves in becoming the endurance athletes we are, whether it be the Boston Qualifier or the 5K specialist. We’ve created a sense of self-worth that we’ve wrapped around our ability to run.
Well, Partner, that’s just silly. You are doing it to yourself. Let’s settle one thing right now. Your self-worth has nothing to do with your ability to lace up your ASICs and trot around the neighborhood. You are you independent of any physical activity or endowment and you will always be you.
Stop tying your self-worth to your endurance sport. Get right with yourself. This is not who you are. This is a thing that you do. If you could never do it again – you would be ok. It would suck but you would find the inner strength to do something just as valid. Because that’s the same inner strength that led you to this pursuit, this ability to begin with.
Are we straight now? The worst thing that can happen is not that bad and is no reflection on you as a person. Get right with that in your head. Running is a gift. Running is a privilege. It’s not a right. Get over yourself.
What makes this situation seem outsized is that these injuries typically occur when we are at the peak of our game. We are in the final weeks of a training cycle. We are setting PR’s and knocking out miles with ease. We are on top. And we are in denial that we have to let that go and reset back to the beginning.
It’s the grieving cycle. You have to get through it. First is denial. Then there is anger. Then there is sadness. But, my friends, eventually there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is acceptance.
There’s nothing wrong with going through the grieving cycle when you get knocked out of running. It’s healthy. Just realize it for what it is and don’t get stuck.
Once you have accepted that you are going to have to take some time off you can mitigate the trough. Mentally I tell people to think of injury timeouts as ‘a gathering of strength’. When you come back you will be stronger. This focuses you on the long term horizon and gets your mind off the 10k you were supposed to run on Sunday before you tore your meniscus.
Transition to cross training. Quickly get into a routine with whatever you can do. Weight lifting, swimming, aqua-jogging or yoga – it doesn’t matter – this activity will fill the void and keep positive momentum. Even if you can only meditate, do it. This is the methadone to your running addiction. This will ease the hard landing and withdrawal.
When the time comes and the injury has healed enough for you to take to the roads again ease into it and have the right mindset. The wrong mindset is to think “I hate the fact that I can only run a quarter mile without wheezing and I’ve gained 30 pounds.” That’s wrong. That will just send you back into the sadness cave.
Remember what I said. Running is a gift. It’s a privilege. That’s how you approach your re-entry.
You leave the watch at home. You take your dog and you find a beautiful forest trail somewhere. And when you have to stop after a quarter mile to wheeze – you smile. And you think “This is great! I’m running again!”
The rest will come. It will come back. I’ve come back from tearing both Achilles to re-qualify for Boston. I’ve come back from crashing my truck and crushing my patella to re-qualify for Boston. I’ve come back from evulsing my ankle to qualify for Boston. I’m currently coming back from plantar fasciitis and a heart procedure and I will re-qualify for Boston.
Or I won’t. It doesn’t matter. I was on the treadmill tonight knocking out a set of 800’s. I was running this speedwork at a pace that used to be my 5 mile race pace. But I was smiling because I was running. I was doing speed work. My body was working and the sweat was flying.
It’s not what you’ve done. You can’t compare yourself to that runner you were before you got injured. You enjoy what you get. You live in the moment and you celebrate every shuffle and jog in your recovery.
Each time I come back it is with no expectations. It starts with my dog in the woods one joyous mile at a time. In the winter snows, the spring slush, the summer sweat and the crunch of fall leaves, season after season. It starts with the joyous feeling of gratitude for just being able to take that first step.
Whatever happens after that is gravy.
That’s how you come back from an injury.