Signing Up for Big Feelings

Lessons learned and what helped while dealing with running injuring

Lauren Fleshman, retired pro runner and co-founder of Picky Bars (among many other things), said when you sign up for an athletic journey you sign up for big feelings. Achieving your audacious goal isn’t a guarantee. BIG feelings — the good and the bad — are a guarantee.

On December 2, I qualified for the Boston Marathon at the California International Marathon. I felt BIG feelings. Invigorated. Alive. Shock. Determination. Ready for the next challenge. So I signed up for a 20-mile trail race in April thinking I’d have time to recover and train.

I had lingering aches in my left hip abductor after the marathon, but I wasn’t worried. I refused to get discouraged. We were about to explore Ecuador and I figured 12 days of little exercise besides walking would do the trick.

When we got back from Ecuador, I went on a few runs and my hip abductor was still not happy. One night I went on a muddy trail run. The sun was setting quickly and by the end of the run I was in complete darkness. My headlamp, reflecting its light off the puddles and into my eyes, did little but obscure the trail. I was being careful, walking in some places, but there were a few near falls. When I got to the end of the trail and began walking to my car, I found I couldn’t walk normally. My heart sank. Uh oh, this isn’t good.

About a week later, the pain traveled to my knee. Sitting for more than an hour hurt. Walking hurt. Swimming, my usual reprieve during injury, hurt. My spirit hurt.

After a few months of oscillating between easing up and increasing mileage, it was clear that I had to pass on the race. My body was telling me no.

I recounted my woes to a few friends and one of them asked if I was stressed. I felt my eyes welling up as I fought back the wave, but my emotions were right at the surface being tossed by the incoming waves.

Another wave of BIG feelings. Frustration. Annoyance. Disappointment. Self-doubt. Tears.

For me, it’s not just running. It’s stress relief. It’s a shot of adrenaline. It’s feeling strong and confident. It’s time to be quiet and process. It’s time to smile. It’s time to cry (yes, I’ve cried while running). It’s connecting with others while we test our physical limits (there is something truly bonding about that). It’s breathing deep and smelling the earth. It’s freedom. It’s when I’m alone. It’s when I’m with others. It’s when I push my athletic ability because I want to find out what I’m made of.

I know I’m not alone with any of these. My challenge during injury — find alternatives that fulfill these feelings without actually running.

Sharing the feelings

We often only post about the triumphs. The sunny days. The wins. A quick scroll through Instagram and you’ll see the trend is overwhelming. But what about the hurts, losses, and disappointments? These moments tend to be part of any full experience. And if we are willing to listen, these are the moments we tend to learn from the most.

Talking about injury and struggle doesn’t show our weakness, but it does require some vulnerability. It tells someone else out there that they’re not alone. It tells them their frustration and angst has a soul sister.

Injuries like mine are not permanent, nor a major setback. It’s a first-world, privileged problem. My culture enables me to run outside. All my basic needs are met. When I’m hungry, I eat. When I’m thirsty, I fill up my cup with clean, cool water from a drinking fountain 10 steps away. I am surrounded by beautiful souls. I have people to call when I hurt. I feel loved. And as Brene Brown says, you can not compare pain or lessen your own struggle because you think someone else has it worse.

Acknowledge it. Feel it. Wallow. Keep perspective. Then make your move.

Lessons learned from this round of running injury

• Ease up as soon as I feel something coming on. While some people are able to run through an injury, my body isn’t made of the same stuff. I can’t push through, I need rest.
• Confirmation of mind-body connection. Find ways to handle stress that doesn’t rely on physical activity as an outlet. For me, writing “first thoughts” is a powerful outlet.
• Reinforced the importance of regular strength and mobility work. ALWAYS. Even when you don’t want too. My friend and physical therapist Jason Zhao says, “running and single leg squats go hand in hand.”
• 0-5 pain scale from my friend and coach Kristen Lipscomb
  • 0 – No pain, feels fine.  
  • 1 – “I feel it a little” “I think I feel it?” You’re running but unsure if you feel anything.
  • 2 – “It doesn’t hurt, but I definitely feel it.” Sometimes you loosen up and it backs down to a 0 or 1. Keep running, but proceed with caution.
  • 3 – “It hurts a little, but I can run through it”. A slight pain might feel manageable, but is a sign your injury is failing. It’s time to stop running.
  • 4 – Pre-limp. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this.” It is really time to stop running. Every foot strike is increasing your injury.
  • 5 – Limping. Pain is fairly strong. You’ve gone overboard.
    Don’t run on super muddy trails. Not only does your risk of injury increase, but it’s also bad for the trail’s sustainability. Just don’t.

Things that helped during injury

• Complaining. Wallowing. Feeling disappointed, but not getting stuck there. This idea also comes from Lauren Fleshman.
• Re-frame recovery time as a time to explore other interests. See writing.
• Reading. I gave myself permission to re-discover my love for long reading sessions on the couch.
• Finding another way to process my thoughts and stress. Writing, again.
• See your running friends, outside of running. Talk about other things.
• Find strong voices, and listen to them. This time is a great opportunity to learn and grow.

There are lessons to learn as we navigate between positive and negative feelings. Sometimes the lessons are difficult to find, but I promise they are there.

You will cry. You will ache with disappointment. But, you will come back. You will feel triumphant. Don’t skip the BIG feelings.