“Fall down seven times, get up eight.” – Japanese proverb about resiliency
I’ve been down before. In high school I tore five ligaments away from my ankle bones stepping onto the culvert edge along Reservoir Avenue at Derryfield Park during the 1984 Class M&S championships. While adrenaline allowed me to get up and cross the line, any shot at making MOCs was as damaged as those tendons. Later as an adult, I tore my hamstring stepping in a pothole at twilight as I was trying to sneak in a “quick six” before it got too dark to run safely. This snow day run led up to my first real encounter with PT. Another time I was out on the first “long” run of my marathon buildup, stepped around a gate, had my knee lock up on me and I fell, blowing the end of my ulna off (the end of my elbow) in what’s known as an olecranon fracture. This led to more rehab and my first real stint at cross training.
I’ve turned both ankles countless times, having them blow up to the size of a softball, purple-green, such that the right one, the most commonly turned one, is now permanently thicker than my left. Not to mention I broke my left big toe and the associated knuckle going on four years ago now and both are also permanently 20% bigger than it was before and the toe and the knuckle do not bend. Not sure that equals seven but it’s getting close. Delicate I am not.
However the latest issue interrupting my running isn’t a particular incident, rather a combination of all the past incidents combining to stack the odds against me. If I were to list the latest posse of maladies they would be both knees that hurt intermittently causing the knee to “collapse” mid-stride complicating moving forward. My right achilles, damaged while training for Mount Washington, seems to be with me more often than not, forcing me to adjust my stride in order to provide some forgiveness. I’ve already mentioned the left hamstring, which makes a guest appearance every once in a while, usually at some inconvenient time. All of this affects the efficiency of my stride, causing my calves to tense and cramp, trying to play protector of my angry joints.
I’ve had people say to me if running is this difficult and seemingly painful, maybe it’s time to take up another sport. I’ve had people suggest biking, with mountain biking potentially giving me the freedom I seek through my trail running. Get a fat bike and hit the power lines. And while I do have a bike, in fact two, I can only wrap my head around the fact that they are specifically for rehab, only to be ridden when I can’t run.
People have suggested swimming, much easier on the joints and easily as effective to stoke the cardiovascular system. And while I’ve enjoyed swimming, especially on hot summer days, it’s an activity I enjoy as long as I don’t have to do it as exercise. Jump off the edge, swim to get out, repeat. I did do a bit of water running with a flotation belt when I broke my elbow as I was forbidden to run at the time. While it gave me something to do for an hour I can’t say as I want to have to do it as an hour netted me almost a mile in Gilmore according to my Garmin.
My father used to run, getting into it as an adult, younger than I am now. He trained intermittently, running 5Ks and 10Ks which were the main distances back in the day. He gave it up when he was diagnosed with chronic arthritis in his joints, making the act of running painful. He’s tried to convince me to do the same, saying we have the same genetics (only partially true) but not realizing the advice about running and arthritis have changed over the years. I think his joint pain is likely more to do with starting his running career late, as most individuals with knee and ankle pain due to running weren’t runners from the beginning. Lifelong runners rarely end up with joint issues.
And there might be a day that running is really, if not impossible, but extremely difficult to continue to pursue. In my head, my plan for when that day comes, includes having built a beautiful wooden sailing dinghy with my weekends filled with days out on the water, wind in my sail, bow spray on my face.
But that day is not today. I can’t remember when I strung a good “training block” together, or had more than a couple good runs in a week happen. There have been some good days though, where things seemingly come together and things go without a hitch. Like recently when I was able to Run the Line with my good friend Bobby G. Or the stupendous 10 mile Attitash Mountain trail run last summer. Or most recently the American Fork Grinder and the Grandeur Peak mountain run at more than 7000 feet elevation.
So for now I’m going to continue to get after it. Things no longer look like they did when I was chasing a Boston Qualifier or entering extreme races, meant to test both my mental and physical systems. Today, getting out of bed, figuring where and how far I’m going to run, finding some enjoyment out of it, no matter how hard the effort or body functioning is at. As long as I can continue to get from point A to point B, under my own power, step by step, that is the plan. As in my response to my dad, “Why would I give up running now and walk, when I’m going to be stuck walking later. What’s the point?”
Maybe if I had done less, getting out of bed in the morning and walking down the stairs would be easier. I might not have to have a death grip on the rail, waiting for my angry ankles and knees to return to a semi-lubricated state. But I would have missed out on all those experiences along the way as well. And those experiences are what has made me who I am. So unless I wish to be someone else I’ll have to live with what all this running has done to make me – me.
And I can live with that. See you out there.
