Listening to your body (when it's screaming at you)
I'm on the injury bench at the moment. I've got a hip sprain. (At least, I'm hoping it's just a sprain.) There's nothing I can do for now except keep stretching, icing and resting it out.
A running friend made a very perceptive point last week. Like me, she's been running two years now and she has noticed the difference between her first year as a runner and her second year. In the first year anything goes. The sheer novelty of it carries you through. Everything feels like an achievement. In your second year, you start to expect bigger things of yourself. Inevitably you compare yourself to others, you try to determine where you ought to be by now, what you should be doing next. In short, it becomes a lot less enjoyable. I think this has happened to an extent with me.
This year I think I kind of lost the point of running. For years before I took up running, I'd been in a bad place mentally. The old saying, 'expectation is the thief of joy' was so true in my case. In my life and in my relationships, I just couldn't stop myself setting up these very rigid definitions of 'success' and 'failure.' If an expectation wasn't met, my disappointment would often be crippling and the over-analysis would be relentless. I tried hard not to have these expectations but it was an ongoing struggle. I tried to just live in the now. When I started running, what I loved most about it was that it taught me to live in the moment. It was quite a revelation.
As I've progressed in my running, I've found myself wanting to enter more and more races and whilst in many ways that's a reflection of my growing confidence, I sometimes think I've got too caught up in the whole, "progression to the next stage" way of thinking. I got into the "I must do a half marathon" (and even "I must do a full marathon") mentality and whilst I am on the one hand proud of the fact that I have been able to tackle longer distances, I don't know that it has made me any happier, in truth. I question why I do it. Is it because I actually enjoy it or is it what's expected of a runner when they get to a particular level of experience? This year my running has been less about living in the moment and more about proving myself again and again. You always assume that when you reach a particular goal, you'll be satisfied and you won't need to go on striving for more, but it doesn't work out that way. The glow of achievement is short-lived.
I guess there's nothing wrong with striving for more if it truly makes you happy, but if it makes you stressed and once again makes you a slave to those wretched expectations, it isn't healthy. It's been fun to do races and virtual runs but I think I've maybe done too many this year. It's like I truly have got addicted to the bling. As soon as I achieve one, I want another. Whilst on one level it might seem quite innocent, an addiction to shiny, sparkly medals, on another it's a sign that I'm getting obsessed and that's not good. After all, I took up running as a way to escape the kind of obsessive thinking that had blighted much of my adult life and the last thing I want is for running itself to become an obsession. I know it's a fine line between having a passion for something and being obsessed with it, but I really do feel the need to get on the right side of that line.
So, although this latest injury is frustrating as hell, it might in some weird way be a good thing, a timely reminder of what running really means to me. When you can't even do a mile on the treadmill, you start to really miss being able to go out and do a pain-free amble, no matter what the pace. At the moment that's all I want to do and the fear of not being able to do it ever again, however irrational and over-dramatic, is making me feel so sad.
Another wise friend has advised me to "stray from the pack." I need to get away from perceived rules and go my own way. I must be honest with myself and do what makes me happy. My friend is an artist and he used to be very obsessive about his work, always chasing perfection, wanting to be better than the rest and it became a burden. Looking back he realises he wasn't actually enjoying it all that much. Now he's taking a more relaxed approach, experimenting with abstract designs. He feels much, much happier, creatively energised and it's fun again.
I need to put the fun back into running as opposed to chasing targets set by people who don't even know me. I've reached a level of fitness that many people my age will never attain. Why do I want to push it further? Maybe it's better to sustain it rather than increase it. Society is obsessed with being bigger and better. Why do we always push ourselves beyond our limits?
I'm a mere 15 kilometres away from completing my goal of 1000 kilometres during the year. The thought that I might not meet that goal is absolutely gutting, but I know I need to get a grip and remind myself that this is a completely artificial pressure to impose on myself. Does it really matter? The difference between 985 and 1000 kilometres is virtually nothing, but in my warped mindset it's the difference between success and failure. I'm also supposed to be doing a 10 mile virtual run this month. Even if my injury heals in the next couple of weeks, the chances of me feeling ready to do that kind of distance are pretty slim, so that's another frustration I'm having to deal with. But is it such a big deal? A portion of the entrance fee goes to charity, so something good has come out of me signing up for it. And I've run 10 miles before, so it's not like I have to prove to myself I can do it yet again. Anyway, I've already got enough medals......honestly, I have. I'm running out of space to hang them.
One of my biggest struggles over the years has been in letting go of control. Running helped me with that in the early days because I just went with the flow, set my own pace, was happy to see where my running journey would take me. Now, after two years, I've obviously got a pretty clear idea of what pace I need to be running things at and I find it harder just to go with the flow and see what happens. There's always a pace in mind, a concept of a 'good' time, even when it's only a practice run. Being injured is particularly hard because it makes me feel totally out of control. I'm dependent on my body healing. I can't make any plans. It's driving me mad. There are people who seem pretty good at taking it in their stride when they have to pull out of a race they've entered. Yes, they're obviously disappointed but they seem to bounce back quickly. When it happens to me, it's not just the actual fact that I'm missing the race that bothers me. It's the fact that circumstances are beyond my control. I hate that feeling. All my life I've battled against it, even though I know it's futile. It's almost like in my stupid head I only feel like a 'runner' when I'm actually running. I need to convince myself that although I'm an injured runner, I am still a runner, that the injury is just something random that happened, not some sign that I failed. It will pass. There isn't a time limit on being a runner. You don't stop being a runner because by the time the clock strikes midnight on 1st January 2019 you didn't run the amount of miles you hoped for, or you didn't manage to complete such and such a race. I know all that really, yet still I can't manage to stop being this person who hates 'loose ends' in my life and needs to have things done and dusted and ticked off in order to feel she's progressing properly.
Next year, less will hopefully be more. I'll still do races, live and virtual, but not too many. I'll learn to run just for the fun of it, maybe even without a watch sometimes. I'll remind myself of the old me who walked the Race for Life with a friend in 2011 and looked at the runners with envy, wishing I could do that. I'll respect my 50-something body and not make it keep proving itself to me by increasingly gruelling feats, because it's already doing pretty amazing stuff (or at least it will be when it's fit again.)
The trouble is, we all get sucked in by these 'inspiring' phrases like "no pain, no gain" and we forget that in fact that's total rubbish. There doesn't have to be pain. There has to be effort, obviously, but pain? Pain is your body telling you something is wrong. I think a more inspiring mantra would be, "no fun, no gain" because if you aren't enjoying something, that's the most fundamental 'fail' you could have.
So, 2019 is going to be about fun......
Running in gorgeous locations, in my own time. Bring it on.
A running friend made a very perceptive point last week. Like me, she's been running two years now and she has noticed the difference between her first year as a runner and her second year. In the first year anything goes. The sheer novelty of it carries you through. Everything feels like an achievement. In your second year, you start to expect bigger things of yourself. Inevitably you compare yourself to others, you try to determine where you ought to be by now, what you should be doing next. In short, it becomes a lot less enjoyable. I think this has happened to an extent with me.
This year I think I kind of lost the point of running. For years before I took up running, I'd been in a bad place mentally. The old saying, 'expectation is the thief of joy' was so true in my case. In my life and in my relationships, I just couldn't stop myself setting up these very rigid definitions of 'success' and 'failure.' If an expectation wasn't met, my disappointment would often be crippling and the over-analysis would be relentless. I tried hard not to have these expectations but it was an ongoing struggle. I tried to just live in the now. When I started running, what I loved most about it was that it taught me to live in the moment. It was quite a revelation.
As I've progressed in my running, I've found myself wanting to enter more and more races and whilst in many ways that's a reflection of my growing confidence, I sometimes think I've got too caught up in the whole, "progression to the next stage" way of thinking. I got into the "I must do a half marathon" (and even "I must do a full marathon") mentality and whilst I am on the one hand proud of the fact that I have been able to tackle longer distances, I don't know that it has made me any happier, in truth. I question why I do it. Is it because I actually enjoy it or is it what's expected of a runner when they get to a particular level of experience? This year my running has been less about living in the moment and more about proving myself again and again. You always assume that when you reach a particular goal, you'll be satisfied and you won't need to go on striving for more, but it doesn't work out that way. The glow of achievement is short-lived.
I guess there's nothing wrong with striving for more if it truly makes you happy, but if it makes you stressed and once again makes you a slave to those wretched expectations, it isn't healthy. It's been fun to do races and virtual runs but I think I've maybe done too many this year. It's like I truly have got addicted to the bling. As soon as I achieve one, I want another. Whilst on one level it might seem quite innocent, an addiction to shiny, sparkly medals, on another it's a sign that I'm getting obsessed and that's not good. After all, I took up running as a way to escape the kind of obsessive thinking that had blighted much of my adult life and the last thing I want is for running itself to become an obsession. I know it's a fine line between having a passion for something and being obsessed with it, but I really do feel the need to get on the right side of that line.
So, although this latest injury is frustrating as hell, it might in some weird way be a good thing, a timely reminder of what running really means to me. When you can't even do a mile on the treadmill, you start to really miss being able to go out and do a pain-free amble, no matter what the pace. At the moment that's all I want to do and the fear of not being able to do it ever again, however irrational and over-dramatic, is making me feel so sad.
Another wise friend has advised me to "stray from the pack." I need to get away from perceived rules and go my own way. I must be honest with myself and do what makes me happy. My friend is an artist and he used to be very obsessive about his work, always chasing perfection, wanting to be better than the rest and it became a burden. Looking back he realises he wasn't actually enjoying it all that much. Now he's taking a more relaxed approach, experimenting with abstract designs. He feels much, much happier, creatively energised and it's fun again.
I need to put the fun back into running as opposed to chasing targets set by people who don't even know me. I've reached a level of fitness that many people my age will never attain. Why do I want to push it further? Maybe it's better to sustain it rather than increase it. Society is obsessed with being bigger and better. Why do we always push ourselves beyond our limits?
I'm a mere 15 kilometres away from completing my goal of 1000 kilometres during the year. The thought that I might not meet that goal is absolutely gutting, but I know I need to get a grip and remind myself that this is a completely artificial pressure to impose on myself. Does it really matter? The difference between 985 and 1000 kilometres is virtually nothing, but in my warped mindset it's the difference between success and failure. I'm also supposed to be doing a 10 mile virtual run this month. Even if my injury heals in the next couple of weeks, the chances of me feeling ready to do that kind of distance are pretty slim, so that's another frustration I'm having to deal with. But is it such a big deal? A portion of the entrance fee goes to charity, so something good has come out of me signing up for it. And I've run 10 miles before, so it's not like I have to prove to myself I can do it yet again. Anyway, I've already got enough medals......honestly, I have. I'm running out of space to hang them.
One of my biggest struggles over the years has been in letting go of control. Running helped me with that in the early days because I just went with the flow, set my own pace, was happy to see where my running journey would take me. Now, after two years, I've obviously got a pretty clear idea of what pace I need to be running things at and I find it harder just to go with the flow and see what happens. There's always a pace in mind, a concept of a 'good' time, even when it's only a practice run. Being injured is particularly hard because it makes me feel totally out of control. I'm dependent on my body healing. I can't make any plans. It's driving me mad. There are people who seem pretty good at taking it in their stride when they have to pull out of a race they've entered. Yes, they're obviously disappointed but they seem to bounce back quickly. When it happens to me, it's not just the actual fact that I'm missing the race that bothers me. It's the fact that circumstances are beyond my control. I hate that feeling. All my life I've battled against it, even though I know it's futile. It's almost like in my stupid head I only feel like a 'runner' when I'm actually running. I need to convince myself that although I'm an injured runner, I am still a runner, that the injury is just something random that happened, not some sign that I failed. It will pass. There isn't a time limit on being a runner. You don't stop being a runner because by the time the clock strikes midnight on 1st January 2019 you didn't run the amount of miles you hoped for, or you didn't manage to complete such and such a race. I know all that really, yet still I can't manage to stop being this person who hates 'loose ends' in my life and needs to have things done and dusted and ticked off in order to feel she's progressing properly.
Next year, less will hopefully be more. I'll still do races, live and virtual, but not too many. I'll learn to run just for the fun of it, maybe even without a watch sometimes. I'll remind myself of the old me who walked the Race for Life with a friend in 2011 and looked at the runners with envy, wishing I could do that. I'll respect my 50-something body and not make it keep proving itself to me by increasingly gruelling feats, because it's already doing pretty amazing stuff (or at least it will be when it's fit again.)
The trouble is, we all get sucked in by these 'inspiring' phrases like "no pain, no gain" and we forget that in fact that's total rubbish. There doesn't have to be pain. There has to be effort, obviously, but pain? Pain is your body telling you something is wrong. I think a more inspiring mantra would be, "no fun, no gain" because if you aren't enjoying something, that's the most fundamental 'fail' you could have.
So, 2019 is going to be about fun......
Running in gorgeous locations, in my own time. Bring it on.
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