Runners: we need to talk about ignoring injuries
Ask any runner for the one thing that scares them and I bet I know the answer most will give you.
Injuries. They suck. Let me rephrase that: they really suck.
For me, it doesn’t help that I’m notoriously stubborn. That’s the polite way people put it. More often they’ll just say I’m pig-headed.
Sometimes that’s a good thing – in life, it pays to be determined, right? I don’t tend to shirk away from difficult things at work. (Yes, that sometimes means the phrase ‘‘like a dog with a bone’’ has been thrown my way, and not always in a complimentary way).
In running, that same trait means I push through when it’s a little bit... uncomfortable. When you’re gutsing it out on a tough run, you want a decent measure of determination in your bones.
But sometimes that’s a bad thing. Take the way I’ve basically been ignoring the pain in my heel for weeks.
Why? Oh, the reason tends to swing between competing narratives that play out in my head.
One goes something like: ‘‘Meh, it’s just a niggle – it’ll go away on its own.’’
The other: ‘‘Cripes, this is really serious. Just keep going because once you stop you’re probably going to have to stop for a long, long time.’’
And so, I kept ignoring it. Especially because, painful heel notwithstanding, I’ve been training really well for a race I’ve had my heart set on for years – the Kepler Challenge, a 60-kilometre blast up and over Mt Luxmore, near Te Anau.
But last weekend, the hobbling got to the point I couldn’t ignore it any more.
When you’re gutsing it out on a tough run, you want a decent measure of determination in your bones.
Frankly, it was embarrassing.
Non-running friends looked aghast. Running friends gave me the knowing glance that says, ‘‘OK, you’re not hiding anything from us, buddy, but we’re not going to say anything because we’re guilty of this particular self-inflicted crime, too’’.
So, desperate times called for desperate measures. I took a few rest days and sought treatment.
And, guess what? The truth was somewhere in between those two competing narratives. It was neither a niggle nor cause for immediate amputation.
With the guidance of an excellent podiatrist and physiotherapist, I’m back on track (strictly following the exercise and stretching regimes they’ve set me).
I’ll be at Kepler.
And I’ll be the better in running and life for what I’ve learnt – about listening to my body, rather than the voices in my mind, and recognising when determination and grit has become sheer bloodymindedness and turning a blind eye to the blindingly obvious. Running is full of life lessons. For instance, our guest on the Dirt Church Radio podcast this week, Marianne Elliott, has wise words to say about how running teaches us the value of practising.
As runners, we know that if we don’t put the time in seeking to improve our running, our running will suffer and we know that we won’t be ready come race day (if that’s our goal).
Elliott points out that the same should apply to other areas of our life, too.
She’s a trail runner, human rights lawyer, yoga teacher, and writer. If she doesn’t put time into practising the art of each of those disciplines, she won’t get better at them. The practice of writing, just like the practice of running, requires effort and time.
Running can also teach us that we shouldn’t be afraid to confront life’s norms.
For example, some parts of the language of running needs rethinking, Elliott says. We talk of ‘‘bagging peaks’’ or ‘‘conquering hills’’, for instance.
In lands that have been the subject of colonisation, is that appropriate? Elliott thinks we should talk about these things.
Sometimes facing the things we dread turns out to be the best thing we can do.