Today I ran for the first time in over a year. And before that, I starting running briefly for the first time in two years. Believe it or not, I used to be a lot more consistent.
I've always loved running, but around the time I quit the first time (almost four years ago to the day), I had started to develop some knee pain, which was attributed to some underlying hip/lower back muscle imbalances that I had developed from advancing my distance to aggressively. This was about two months prior to my first big race - a half marathon I had been training for all winter with some close friends. I was devastated when I was told to stop running, and had a hard time getting excited about other forms of aerobic activity, so eventually I just gave up on regular exercise altogether.
Looking back, it's not a great excuse for stopping activity altogether, but in the context of my other life stressors and priorities, I allowed it to happen.
Then about a year ago, a physiotherapist told me there was no reason I shouldn't be able to run as long as I eased my body back into it and took care of my core. Excitedly, I hit the streets, and promptly pooped out, disappointed with myself and demoralized by how rudimentary my runs were. I knew I had to pace myself, but I had expected to feel amazing while doing it - eager to go, stomping at the bit, holding myself back because I was responsible and allowing my back to acclimate to the activity. The reality was not so pleasant. I was horribly de-conditioned and easily exhausted. My cardiovascular system was in shock, and on top of that, my back pain began to act up far earlier than I had expected.
Since then I've been in the process of allowing myself to try again. To be clear, I don't advocate for doing activity that causes damage or aggravates existing injuries - there are plenty of types of activities out there, and most people can find something that works for them on a physical level and an enjoyment level. That said, I am convinced that I am not in a situation that precludes me from running. I am in a situation that demands I run responsibly - no jacking up the distance or intensity aggressively, no running without appropriate stretching, and certainly no running without also working on my core and back strength. With these things in place, I am convinced that a trial of running again could be successful.
But then there's that pesky business of my pride. I used to be so much stronger. I used to be so much faster. It used to come so much easier. For a year, I've contemplated and rejected the idea of really any regular physical activity aside from recreation because I knew that I would disappoint myself by falling short of what I used to be able to do.
It's kind of a dumb way to live.
A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend who had just started running again after a long hiatus, and she described it as being life-giving, energizing, and momentum-building. She felt mentally restored and better-engaged in the rest of her life because of the endorphins released by the activity and by the act of doing something good for herself. When I asked her about her times and distances, she told me something that made me feel like maybe I could in fact try again: she said she didn't know. She doesn't track her runs like that. She doesn't care how far she goes or what she accomplishes outside of the simple act of going out and doing it and running until she feels done.
It sounds so freeing right? Running with no expectations of yourself? Walking when you're tired and stopping when you feel done?
It sounded freeing to me. So today, on my way home as I was admiring the beautiful day and feeling so grateful to be out in the sunshine, I decided to give it a try. I admit, I did turn on my app to track my route and, hopefully, remind me not to push myself. And it felt amazing! I walked a bit, run until I was tired, then walked some more, and ran again when I felt ready to. I haven't had that running high in years, and it was so freeing to be able to enjoy the high without pushing myself for a certain distance or pace.
I don't know how my back is going to feel tomorrow, but I'm going to give this a fair trail. This new approach has freed me up to just enjoy the process, and I'm so excited to see how it goes!
I've always loved running, but around the time I quit the first time (almost four years ago to the day), I had started to develop some knee pain, which was attributed to some underlying hip/lower back muscle imbalances that I had developed from advancing my distance to aggressively. This was about two months prior to my first big race - a half marathon I had been training for all winter with some close friends. I was devastated when I was told to stop running, and had a hard time getting excited about other forms of aerobic activity, so eventually I just gave up on regular exercise altogether.
Looking back, it's not a great excuse for stopping activity altogether, but in the context of my other life stressors and priorities, I allowed it to happen.
Then about a year ago, a physiotherapist told me there was no reason I shouldn't be able to run as long as I eased my body back into it and took care of my core. Excitedly, I hit the streets, and promptly pooped out, disappointed with myself and demoralized by how rudimentary my runs were. I knew I had to pace myself, but I had expected to feel amazing while doing it - eager to go, stomping at the bit, holding myself back because I was responsible and allowing my back to acclimate to the activity. The reality was not so pleasant. I was horribly de-conditioned and easily exhausted. My cardiovascular system was in shock, and on top of that, my back pain began to act up far earlier than I had expected.
Since then I've been in the process of allowing myself to try again. To be clear, I don't advocate for doing activity that causes damage or aggravates existing injuries - there are plenty of types of activities out there, and most people can find something that works for them on a physical level and an enjoyment level. That said, I am convinced that I am not in a situation that precludes me from running. I am in a situation that demands I run responsibly - no jacking up the distance or intensity aggressively, no running without appropriate stretching, and certainly no running without also working on my core and back strength. With these things in place, I am convinced that a trial of running again could be successful.
But then there's that pesky business of my pride. I used to be so much stronger. I used to be so much faster. It used to come so much easier. For a year, I've contemplated and rejected the idea of really any regular physical activity aside from recreation because I knew that I would disappoint myself by falling short of what I used to be able to do.
It's kind of a dumb way to live.
A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend who had just started running again after a long hiatus, and she described it as being life-giving, energizing, and momentum-building. She felt mentally restored and better-engaged in the rest of her life because of the endorphins released by the activity and by the act of doing something good for herself. When I asked her about her times and distances, she told me something that made me feel like maybe I could in fact try again: she said she didn't know. She doesn't track her runs like that. She doesn't care how far she goes or what she accomplishes outside of the simple act of going out and doing it and running until she feels done.
It sounds so freeing right? Running with no expectations of yourself? Walking when you're tired and stopping when you feel done?
It sounded freeing to me. So today, on my way home as I was admiring the beautiful day and feeling so grateful to be out in the sunshine, I decided to give it a try. I admit, I did turn on my app to track my route and, hopefully, remind me not to push myself. And it felt amazing! I walked a bit, run until I was tired, then walked some more, and ran again when I felt ready to. I haven't had that running high in years, and it was so freeing to be able to enjoy the high without pushing myself for a certain distance or pace.
I don't know how my back is going to feel tomorrow, but I'm going to give this a fair trail. This new approach has freed me up to just enjoy the process, and I'm so excited to see how it goes!
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