I’ve been running my whole life. From soccer to the Army, marathons, and beyond, the miles have added up – the wheels are worn, and the power train rattles. Plantar fasciitis, stress fractures, sprained ankles, bone spurs, nerve damage, runner's knee, arthritis, four hernia repairs, sciatica, upper hamstring tear, and spinal compression are some of the dents in my fenders.
This means long runs and hikes all come with at least a little discomfort. Sometimes A LOT.
I suppose this leaves me with a choice. Do I keep running, or stop running?
If I run, I risk a painful experience exacerbating some of the injuries. If I don't run, I won’t need to worry about it anymore. Simple equation, right? Not really. It’s actually a simple binary choice, which is usually a signal for a false dichotomy. There are far more options than two in this game. There’s a third way – run DIFFERENTLY – but that can be hard to see at first blush.
“Part of what makes the false dichotomy trap so prevalent is that it is often driven by emotion.” Blayne reminds us of this in his article, “False Dichotomy”, which hit me right in the middle of the bullseye. I have a lot of emotion bound up in running.
Anyone who served with me knows that I’m a natural runner. A great runner. And fast. Really fast. Speed and endurance (along with grit and determination) have been key to my athletic successes (no hubris intended). Seeing this deteriorate over the years has saddened me, which clouds my judgment. I could just quit running altogether. I could also stubbornly continue running the way I always have and keep stacking injuries. Neither is an appealing option. I want to run as long as I can, so I have to change how.
“As we run, we become. ”
Here’s how I’m going about it.
First, I registered for the North Fork 50k on May 30th and made a public commitment amongst my colleagues at a National Meeting. I registered for this race because I have close friends to run it with, because I needed an objective to aim for, and because I know I must train deliberately or the course will hurt me.
Second, I got a coach. No one has ever coached me on running. Sure, I’ve been run into the ground more times than I can recall, but my strides were always through raw effort. Now I have a deliberate training plan, and I’m accountable to my coach. He is challenging me to run differently – VO2 Max sessions, strength-building climbs, and target heart rate runs (to name a few). I have found that Zone 2 running requires a lot of discipline and focus; it also requires the right tools.
Third, I’ve invested in the right gear. A Polar heart rate chest strap, Garmin Fenix 7, new La Sportiva trail running shoes (my shoes were 18 months old), new CEP compression sleeves (mine were 16 years old), and orthotic inserts (I’m embarrassed to admit this one, but the ones I had were made at the old Martin Army hospital on Ft. Benning for the 2006 Best Ranger Competition…so, 20 years ago). Time for a refresh…
Fourth, I’m getting healthcare support for this mission. I have the most amazing PCP team at the Golden, CO VA. My Nurse Practitioner has quarterbacked my care and gotten me into podiatry, which referred me to orthopedics for new orthotic inserts and physical therapy. And I’m following through on the home front, icing, stretching, and strengthening. Something that would be difficult to do without Kelly.
Fifth, and most importantly, I’ve got Kel in my corner. Kelly provides the genuine support, encouragement, and accountability I need to take this journey. Kelly is a hard charger (we did our first marathon without training for it in 2010; it was a bad idea, but we did it). She understands what it means to set big goals and stick to them (she’s 2/3rd the way through her FNP/ DNP – Doctor of Nursing Practice – at almost 50). She supports me through the investment of our family’s resources and time. She encourages me daily by asking how training, nutrition, and recovery are going. She holds me accountable to the healthcare plans my team has put in place.
Without her, this attempt is impossible.
I know she’s worried about me sustaining more injuries. I suspect she’s concerned I’m having a midlife crisis. Either way, she’s my biggest cheerleader and critical in helping me not only see the third way to running, but to take the third way and seek success.
I’m four weeks into my training program for the North Fork 50k, and so far, the effort is achieving the intended purpose. I have a fresh approach to running, new trails to explore, and great people on the journey with me. All that, and I’m regaining something I’ve missed for a very long time: the JOY of the run.
