Injuries: Blessings in Disguise?

Competitive distance runners can be reduced to two basic categories.  First are those who train and race regularly and are addicted to and giddy from the rush they feel from running.  The other group is the incurably miserable “walking wounded” who are eager to tell any unsuspecting stranger just how much pain they are in from their running-related injury and how much life sucks because of it.   I found myself somewhere in the twilight zone between these two worlds recently, and that is the inspiration for this entry. 

Until recently, I had never sustained a running-related injury in my 30-year competitive distance runing career, and was always happy to boast about that reality.  But that unblemished track record developed a big “pimple” at the end of May – a severe inflammation of the sacroiliac joint in my lower back, which caused excruciating pain to radiate from my lower back to my hip, groin, and knee, and also caused me to lose coordination in my left leg.  Forget about running – I could barely walk.   I struggled to find a comfortable position while sleeping, and even sitting was relentlessly uncomfortable.   I was miserable.  It appeared that I would be taking up residence in the “hating life” camp described above for an indefinite period.  To add insult to the injury that this condition caused me, the prognosis was slow recovery, with likely recurrence.  Great.  Just shoot me now.   The rock band “The Who” and their legendary mantra, “Hope I die before I get old,” has a distance runner’s twist on this sentiment :  “Hope I die before I get injured.”  

People around me almost seemed to derive some sadistic pleasure in seeing my training get derailed.   My son, Alek, said that the injury indicated that I needed to improve my lousy running form, expand my virtually non-existent stretching regimen, and lose my gut and do some ab work to take unnecessary strain away from my back.   Why not tell me that I’m a waste of human life while you’re at it, Captain Tough Love?  One of my uncles, whose Boston-qualifying dreams imploded when he blew out his knee many years ago, had these comforting words for me upon learning of my injury:  “How old are you now?”   To which I replied, “47.”  And his response was, “What did you expect?”  Call me crazy, but I think I would have preferred a warm embrace with a gentle and understanding whisper in my ear telling that everything would be all right.   Nah.  Smack me around some more, please!   I would love to add a few more names to the (ever-lengthening) list of people who laugh at or doubt with all their heart my plan to run the “holy grail” time of 3:30 for my age group to get back to Boston.  What’s life without having an uncompromising purpose to conquer an impossible dream, right?  Maybe I should stop watching Don Quixote re-runs.

But with just over four months remaining in my training for the Philadelphia Marathon on November 20, this injury was the best thing that could have happened to me.  I never thought I would say such a thing, but it’s true.  In every crisis, there is an opportunity, right?    There are two basic reasons why this injury was a blessing.  First, it forced me to rest, which is something I’m apparently incapable of doing on my own accord.  I work around the clock in my career and in my training – always have and always will – and that’s simply not sustainable.  I was logging my highest mileage in more than a decade, month after month of 100+ miles in 2010 and 2011, topping out at 150 miles in May.  And I was reaping some encouraging rewards from those efforts in my race results.  But here’s the problem:  logging higher mileage is playing with fire when you are my age and my size.  You must proceed with caution and be sensitive to your body’s needs.  “Caution” and “sensitive” aren’t in my vocabulary when it comes to training, howver – it’s just push, push, push.   And that unsustainable approach to training finally caught up with me with a nagging lower back injury that first appeared in April the week before I ran the Jacksonville Symphony 4-miler.  It was a loud and clear wake-up call to slow down.  Not surprisingly, I ignored that wake-up call and continued to train hard (with lots of punishing training on concrete bridges) throughout April and May.  Shortly thereafter, while bending down to pick up something in the end of May, I stood back up and felt Sir Lancelot’s sword in my lower back.  I turned around and didn’t see Sir Lancelot, however.  

I now had my first running related-injury and had succeeded in stabbing myself in the back by not being more cautious and sensitive with my training.  So, rest I would take, whether I liked it and not.  I expected the mandatory sentence of rest to last no more than a week, but I was wrong.  The pain waxed and waned but didn’t start to consistently improve until the end of June.  I had rested an entire month from the date of the injury and had only run 8 miles in June– my lowest mileage month ever.  But when I did finally feel liberated from this pain, I felt like a thoroughbred bucking to break through the stable door – my running was exhilarating and effortless, and my runner’s euphoria was back.

Second, and more significantly, my injury prompted a significant lifestyle change.  As of June 1, I transitioned to a vegetarian diet as a way to fight back against the loss of control I felt from my injury.  It was something I had considered for many years and somehow this situation seemed like the best time to give it a serious try.  I also have vowed to eliminate, or at least significantly reduce, my consumption of coffee.  I’ve succeeded in both undertakings and it was much easier than I anticipated.  I plan to consume fish about once a week, but I have eliminated everything else – beef, pork, lamb, veal, and poultry.  I have only had one cup of coffee since June 1.  Eliminating coffee has significant co-benefits, too — fewer Dunkin’ Donuts cups in landfills and fewer massively caloric donuts in my belly.  The biggest advantage of the vegetarian/no coffee lifestyle for my running career, however, is the weight loss.  Eating smarter was all I needed to do to be able to shed pounds effortlessly.  I dropped 10 pounds in June.  And I didn’t feel hungry and didn’t crave meat or coffee.

So, I’m back — injury free, pain free, lean and mean, and ready for action.  I registered for the Philadelphia Marathon today.  Yo, Adrian — cue up the theme song to Rocky.  I can hear my Boston Qualifier destiny beckoning.

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