I didn’t want to write this week’s column. I’ve written, deleted and rewritten this first paragraph time and time again, trying to find a way to admit that I’m injured again without completely breaking down. This race has become my life, so it’s hard to not shed a few tears when, for the second time within a month, something is threatening to take it from me.
About two weeks ago, I noticed a stiffness in my right hip. It wasn’t causing me any pain, so I just kept running. Last Monday, the stiffness had transformed into a dull pain, but a mile into my run, once I had loosened up, I was feeling great again. Come Wednesday, the first few steps of my eight mile run were excruciating. Foolishly, I pushed through the pain and finished my workout, and I’ve not been able to walk without wincing since. This Monday, I saw a doctor who told me I likely have a soft tissue tear in my hip.
I cannot even tell you how angry this makes me — like I want to hit someone and scream and kick and cry sort of angry. Maybe this sounds dramatic, but all I want in the world is to run pain free. I’ve sacrificed so much for this race. I’ve given up my social life and most of my sanity to prepare myself to run 26.2 miles. And now, for the second time, I’m headed towards a future where I can’t finish the Eugene Marathon.
When I had my toe injury, I was a whole 12 weeks out from the marathon. This time around, with only eight weeks to go, being injured feels a hell of a lot more threatening. Just the very fact that I’ve been injured twice in one month is enough to make me go crazy. I follow dozens of people on Instagram who boast 100-day run streaks, 12 marathon finishes in a year and other absurd run feats. Not one of them seems to struggle with injury-related setbacks. I may not be good at running, but at least I’m good at something: getting injured.
What’s more maddening is that I have carefully conditioned my body to NOT be injury prone. I am the queen of stretching and strength training, I fuel properly and I incorporate pre-hab movements into my weight training. I might feel better about my track record with setbacks if it had been from lack of trying, but I’m the most goddamn responsible runner I know. Screw injury, I deserve better.
For the past few days, I’ve spent all my time being angry at my hip and whatever higher power has condemned me to injury. I’ve cried on the phone to my mom, I’ve complained about the stationary bike more times than I can count and I’m about one KT tape strip away from filing a false advertisement suit against the company for claiming their product lasts for three days when really, the adhesive is shit.
Honestly, someone needs to sedate me before I drive myself insane with all the rearranging of my training schedule to see how I could fit in a one, two or three week rehab process. But no matter how hard I try to plan for the worst case scenario, it’s out of my hands. The only thing I can do now is ice, rest, cross train and pray. The future is so unknown. I had expected the toe injury would take me out of the game, and I rebounded in less than two weeks. So I suppose there’s one thing to be grateful about — at least if I don’t finish this race, it won’t be because of something as silly as a toe.
All jokes aside, despite my pathetic, limping-around-the-house state of helplessness, there is still time for hope. The doctor I saw said he thinks the marathon is still very possible, and that I probably won’t need more than a week or two of rehab. I met this judgment with skepticism, and I’m hesitant to be so optimistic, but the good news was somewhat comforting.
I’m prepared for rehab to take longer than expected, and I’m prepared to be patient because unfortunately, you can’t force recovery. The reality of injury is it doesn’t care about all of your hard work, but it does care about your rest. So for the next few weeks, I will try my very hardest to be a normal person and chill the hell out.
