Things I'm glad I've learned about being injured

My current view a lot of the time!

While I don't believe that injury as a runner is completely inevitable, I think that for those of us that like to push our limits, it is sensible to accept that we may sometimes push a little too far, and that injury, whether chronic or acute, can be the result of that. I've learned a lot from going through two or three periods of major injury, and I try to share that learning for anyone else on the injury train.

I wrote about my first brush with major injury here. That piece describes how a chronic hip injury shattered my identity, confidence and self-concept, because all of those things were too closely dependent on running. I wrote about how I attempted to disentangle my self-worth from my running ability, and reflected here on the success of that. It's not that I don't believe in the power of running to improve one's sense of self-worth - but I hadn't noticed then that almost all of mine was tied to one thing.

Sometimes injury problems are chronic, building over time, and sometimes they are acute, change happening in a moment - as was the case when I sprained my ankle in August. This is the first 'big' opportunity I have had to put my growth to the test, and I'm pleased to report that it seems to be sticking so far, even in the face of a more complicated situation than I was expecting. I'm going to demonstrate what's changed by attempting to contrast 'then' (my 2021 injured self) and 'now'.

(Sidebar: the actual details on the ankle are lengthy and dull, but the short version is that it isn't recovering as expected; rather than trending generally stronger, there's an area of pain and restricted movement that isn't improving in response to time or rest. Scans and consultations aren't yet revealing why, but it's possible I've sustained a fracture of some kind. As things stand I've missed one big race at the 7 Valleys, look set to miss Spine Challenger South in January, and am uncertain about Dragon's Back next year. I've also cancelled and amended various bits of work, and at the moment am not able to make firm plans for on-feet work in the short-term future.)

Objectively, it's a bit bleak! So, what's changed for me such that I'm not a complete mess? Let's find out.

What happened before?

I experienced an almost total loss of self-worth. I felt useless, a failure, ashamed. I was obsessed with how others would see me - believing that the only thing about me that had worth was my running. If that was gone, what was left?

What's happening now?

I worked very hard to locate my self-worth somewhere different - within myself. Although the phrase is overused, 'I am enough'. I no longer believe that my value to myself or anyone else is assigned through my abilities, skills or athletic strength, I believe in my own value as a human being.

What happened before?

I spent a lot of time fighting myself. I was furious with my body for 'failing' me. I tried everything to 'fix' the problem, and I kept trying to run through it because of all the things that stopping running represented. I blamed both myself and my body for the injury.

What's happening now?

I'll admit that in the first couple of weeks when I realised something wasn't 'normal', a bit of this happened! But I much more quickly found the ability to be calm, and patient, and to work together with my body, rather than blaming it or trying to force it to heal. There is a small part of me that wonders if it was my fault. If I was just a better, more skilful runner, or if I'd been more careful that day, would it have happened? But the much bigger part of me is not blaming myself; I know it wasn't my fault. And even if it was - I still deserve kindness and compassion, not recrimination and blame.

What happened before?

I refused to accept that anything other than running could bring me joy. I couldn't even use the word 'acceptance' about the injury. I raged against the situation, desperate to prove to myself and the world how much I loved running - 'see how much pain I'm in, this is proof of my commitment'. It was exhausting for me, and for everyone close to me, too. I wouldn't countenance trying to enjoy anything else, because this just proved that I wasn't committed enough to running.

What's happening now?

I don't need to rage, or prove anything. Yes, I'm sad, and people close to me are being great at supporting me and listening when I need a bit of a vent. And yes, I'd love to be out there running! I miss being in the hills quite a lot. But I'm also able to embrace other things. My partner has been amazing at planning fun stuff for us to do that doesn't involve hiking; we've been to music festivals and theme parks, and I've loved it. I'm also on the Wattbike or turbo most days; I have discovered that this meets my mental need for exercise, and I'm enjoying seeing the development of my bike fitness. I have more time, and I've even picked up playing the piano again, something that used to be a huge part of my life, but I consciously let go to make space to run more. None of that makes me less of a runner. Or perhaps more importantly, less of a person! And (whisper it)...if I never ran again, I'd be ok. Although that's not my preferred outcome, I'm proud of myself for the work I've done to reach that perspective.

Fun times that don't involve running!

I'm not suggesting all of the above is happening perfectly. I absolutely have days when I feel sad, angry, frustrated, or that things are unfair. I think that the shifts I've made will be an ongoing, permanent process of learning and shoring up ways of being, and I have to consciously practise the mental approaches I want - much as we put deliberate practice into physical skills we want to develop.

I guess my message is: change is possible. I was incredibly entrenched in the negative, damaging mindset I described earlier, but with effort I have changed it. If you're reading this in the injury trenches, and you recognise yourself in anything here, I'm sending you lots of love and hope and care - you're enough :)