running / returning

1.28.26

While I’m glad that January is coming to an end, I know that winter is just getting its second wind where I’m at. Considering the amount of storms hitting us recently, it’s a pretty convenient time to get a patellar bone contusion and a 4 to 6 week sentence of mandatory rest.

huh

I got into running during my freshman year of college. There were a lot of reasons behind it, but stress management is the one I’ve held onto the tightest. It’s repetitive, one foot in front of the other over and over. The motions get me into an almost meditative state. Sometimes my brain will put a catchy chorus on loop, sometimes it’s complete silence. Regardless of what’s on my mind, the sound of my shoes tapping on pavement and my shallow breaths keep me going for as long as I can take.

At some point, running became my go-to coping mechanism (often confused with “the love of the game”). An hour out there and I will have convinced myself that I’ve never been anxious at any point in my life ever. It was an essential part of my weekly routine. That’s what I had thought, until my left kneecap ate shit on some uneven sidewalk.

back to reality

The initial impact didn’t actually hurt that much, since I’m so brave and so strong. I rubbed it for a minute and went on with my run. It wasn’t until the next morning that it became total agony to put any weight on my leg at all. Instead of, say, resting, seeking medical attention, I became frustrated with myself and persisted for another week. We can’t have anything ruin the grindset, can we?

After the third or fourth run in this new series of humiliation rituals (actually do not do this unless you really want a fracture), I finally relented and quit working out for a week. I had been resisting making this call, as the possibility of making any changes to my rigid schedule had me genuinely stressing out.

who wants to diagnose me

Being an athlete, or being perceived as an athletic person, had become a part of my identity I didn’t realize I was so anchored in. I was awful at sports growing up and was often picked on for it, so it became sort of exciting to develop an enjoyment for running and strength training when I got older.

This newfound appreciation eventually changed into a way to detach, though. A way to keep busy, stay on task, the usual bootstrap mentality / self-improvement rhetoric. Nonetheless, a good hobby to fall back on to convince coworkers that you’re well adjusted.

I had only convinced myself that I needed this routine, or else I would somehow fail at performing the idea of me, halt my progress towards becoming myself. Articulating the mental gymnastics I was going through seems dramatic, given that it was actually very simple and very easy to stop moving around so much during the middle of a midwestern winter. Frustrating, sure, but it was so obvious that my body needed a real break. I haven’t been great at picking up on its cues.

recovery / reconnection

As of writing this, I’m in the fourth week of recovery. I saw a doctor, got a free theraband, and began a shiny new routine of physical therapy exercises for ten minutes a day and sitting on my ass for the other 1430. Forcing myself to be still with my body and really working through slow repetitions of small, controlled movements prompted me to reevaluate some things. It sucks that it took an injury to come to this point, but I doubt anything gentler would.

First, exercise itself. The motivation behind why I’m doing these repetitions almost every day, every week. Actions that were once intuitive and simple suddenly becoming painful was an unpleasant reminder of how fragile the body can be. I’ve got my range of motion back now, but those first couple weeks where it hurt to walk up a flight of stairs gave some real weight (ha) to a sentiment I’ve heard from fitness influencer types a million times: You get to run, you don’t need to run.

Of course I understood what they were getting at, but it's not something I could feel the significance of until I found myself in a position where I didn’t get to anymore. Not to get too into the “mindfulness” talk, but I do want to go back into this as practice for connecting with the body again rather than detaching, to feel how it reacts and adapts to movement. Maybe my reasons for starting over will be a little more sustainable compared to the first time around.

More importantly though, who am I outside of exertion? Outside of work, reputation, achievements, routines, progress? What do I enjoy doing? During this break, I’ve inevitably been drawn back to my fundamentals. I like to make stories, I like to listen to other’s stories. I’ve been spending a lot of time reading and drawing and writing very much badly.

Most of my college career has been spent inserting myself into super extroverted work and social spaces, performing the type of person who thrives in those settings. I think I forgot to look after the type of person who would prefer to spend an evening updating their Neocities website.