10 days have passed since I crossed the finish line of the California International Marathon (CIM) in 2 hours 50 minutes and 39 seconds. Yes, this was a PR. But no, I am not even close to satisfied. My heart still aches when I get in bed at night and it hits me like a load of bricks when I open my eyes in the morning. I know you should never take a PR for granted- especially when racing a marathon! I have come to learn that PR’s are few and hard to come by. But still, I can’t get rid of this hurt that is currently living deep within my soul. This ache is not from wondering if I could have gone faster- by looking at my splits it is quite clear that running faster was out of the question. The ache comes from the “What if’s?” What if I hadn’t strained my hamstring less than 3 weeks before the race? What if I had been able to run more than 15 miles in the final couple weeks leading up to race day? What if I hadn’t worn the shoes that I had only trained in once? What if the shoes hadn’t torn my feet to shreds. What if? What if? It makes no difference, yet I can’t stop wondering.
After over a week had passed and I still couldn’t walk without severe pain in my feet, I decided to go see a doctor. The good news: no stress fracture. The bad news: it turns out that in those last 12 grueling miles, as I limped my way to the finish line, I managed to severely damage the peroneal tendon in my left foot. This is the ‘stability’ tendon of your foot that starts on your low calf, goes around the outside of your ankle, and across the outside of the top of your foot. Due to the fact that every single step felt like I was tearing my plantar fascia, I must have been compensating by running (or hobbling) on the outside of my foot. If you were to ask me to try and run 5 steps right now, I would literally fall flat on my face from the excruciating pain I feel shooting through my foot. Apparently the severity of the injury can vary, so the doctor was unable to give me a healing timeline. It is hard to determine the extent to which damage was done, but it could be 8-10 weeks before I can run again. Simply writing this brings tears to my eyes. I know that my body needs time to heal and recover; it was screaming for it 2 weeks ago before I even raced, in the message of a strained hamstring. I understand that to get back to hard training and pursue this goal again, I need a hard reset of my body. Yet this understanding doesn’t make the pain in my heart ache any less.
Somehow in the past two years, I have managed to make running my entire life, instead of just a large part of it. Running is and always has been the one constant in my life. Throughout everything, it has been a place where I find not only comfort, but also self-worth. Running brings me so much joy, but the anxiety of facing injury after injury leaves me feeling like my world is crashing down. I have SO MUCH to be grateful for- I have an incredible support system, my family and friends are all healthy, I have a roof over my head and warm food to eat- yet I still cannot find happiness. I know it is entirely on me to choose to be happy, but I feel like running is so closely tied to who I am that when it is taken from me, I find it hard to function.
After a tough conversation with my brother, I came to the hard realization that I have to find who I am without running, not because it won’t always be a part of my life, but because it is not healthy nor sustainable for it to be my entire life. In this sport, when training at a high level, there is such a physical toll placed on the body that injuries are inevitable. The only way to get through the lows and survive the rollercoaster of emotions is to have a life outside of running. In the past two years I have had more injuries than I have had in my entire life; I have had a sacral stress fracture, torn both quads, strained both hamstrings, dealt with SI joint issues, suffered from chronic tendonopathy in my upper hamstring, and severely damaged the peroneal tendon in my foot. It is clear that my body is trying to tell me something and it is time that I listen.
The issue at the CIM marathon had nothing to do with my fitness level; it was my body. I think I endured more pain in those last 12 miles than in any other race of my entire running career, but not one iota of that pain was aerobic. My fitness was there; my legs simply could not keep up with my lungs. I truly believe that I was fit enough to run sub 2:45, but at the end of the day, none of that matters. Who cares if the engine is highly functioning, but the tires get flat or break down? I need an intense mechanical up-keep on my body whether I like it or not.
As much as I hate not being able to run, I must find a way to come to terms with it for the time being. My body has gone to war these past two years and it is now time to return home. The mark of a true champion is not how they respond when they are at the top, but when adversity strikes. It is the losses, the injuries, the setbacks, the failures that make us resilient and build our character. If there is anything I have learned in these past two years it is that the struggle is a part of the process. Success is far from linear. As long as you don’t give up and keep pushing forward, no matter how hopeless things may seem, you will make it. It is vital to remember that sometimes a failed outcome can be a lesson on the path to success, not the end game. Success is about putting everything you have on the line for a goal and not being afraid to fail. For the next few weeks, I am forcing myself to focus on recovery and getting my body back to normal. I still have one year to qualify for the 2020 Olympic Marathon Trials and believe me when I say that the fire inside me is burning brighter than ever. I trust that when the time is right, the fire will ignite, and it will propel me forward in glorious pursuit of my dreams.
