Injury

Injury

As a runner I have a funny conception of pain. While a normal human being will understand it in a sane, rational way, e.g: ‘If I cut my hand with a knife it will hurt. Because it hurts I will stop cutting my hand. I will try not to cut my hand with a knife.’ …a runner welcomes it. ‘If I run really fast it will hurt. I want to run really fast to get quicker. I want to run so it hurts.’ Pain is a part of running. It is the yardstick by which we judge our improvement. It is not something to be avoided but something to be approached then overcome. However, every so often there are come a point where we are reminded what pain is like for everyone else. It is when injury strikes. A regular supply of endorphins means that runners have a feeling of invincibility about them, but ironically this makes them very susceptible at the same time. Run too much, too quickly, too hard - feel too invincible - and the muscles will become as fragile as a new born baby’s skull. Run again after this and they will break. ‘Ow.’ ‘Ow.’ ‘Ow...shit, ow.’ And so will begin the first stage of injury – denial. ‘What? What’s wrong with you? Come on, keep going, it will disappear in a minute. You’ll run it off.’ But it doesn’t, and the denial level increases accordingly. ‘Come on! Jesus, you’re a wimp. Go, away! It’s all in the mind. Let it go, it’s all in the mind.’ But it stays. And the pain gets worse and worse, and worse. ‘I can’t. I can’t keep going. I’ve got to...I’ve got to stop.’ Then it hits you. ‘I’m injured. I’m actually bloody injured.’ And you feel very, very human again. It is then that you reach the next stage of injury. Blame. ‘That crack in the pavement; These bloody trainers; The wrong energy drink; A change in the weather; God looking down and cursing me’ How could it happen to you? How could you – decent, hard working, diligent runner you – get injured? What did you do to deserve it? You get angry because it is not your fault. The injury has been caused by something outside of your control and, unless you have been assaulted with a spanner, it is something that you are unable to vindicate. You just have to resign yourself: ‘I’m injured and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m pathetic. I’m pathetic and I cannot run.’ Which is when the third stage arrives. Melodrama. Most runners are very strict on themselves. They have a specific training schedule that they have to keep to no matter what, and if this changes they become very neurotic: ‘If I don’t do at least ten miles on Wednesday, I will lose ten minutes on my time.’ ‘I have worked so hard to get to this point. One week off and I will lose everything.’ ‘If I stop running I will become depressed, fat and want to kill myself. I must keep training.’ But now you don’t have a choice, you cannot run. The nightmare has come true. ‘That’s it, my running career is over.’ ‘I’ll never want to run again.’ ‘I don’t want to eat, sleep or do anything. Life has no meaning anymore.’ One day into getting injured I started to compare myself to a washed up has-been – a footballer drinking himself to death, a swimmer who could not stop eating, a boxer with no brain cells left – and I started to feel better. So much had I put myself on a running pedestal that I had convinced myself I had fallen off for good. ‘My life! What should I do with my life? How can I ever find anything else?’ This feeling carries on for a week or two, but eventually passes as you come towards the final stage – convalescence. After endless welling in depression and anger an amazing set of revelations come upon you. Injuries heal. Sitting and doing nothing helps. Your body can make itself better. This might seem an obvious conclusion to the normal person, but to a runner it is quite the epiphany. For us the body is a blank canvas, and the act of running the paintbrush. Only by running will there be any colour to our world. ‘Run. Get fitter. Then run again.’ But when you have been injured your body has improved without running. Your leg starts to feel stronger. Actually if anything it feels better than it did before. The rest has done it good. This goes against everything you have convinced yourself to be true, but it seems that not-running has actually done you good. Rest works. Injuries heal. You can run again and sometimes you can run quicker. ‘My leg is fine. My body has healed itself. I can beat injury. I can beat any injury in the world!’ And once again you are invincible. Then it begins to hurt again and you need another week to recover, but that’s okay now. You will get better. Being injured is not the end. It is the path to greater strength.