“You’re so sensible! I need to be more like you”, a friend said, about my approach to being injured. I felt good for a few seconds, imagining all the miles I hadn’t run, the risks I hadn’t taken.
Then it was back to that injured feeling again: frustrated, guilty, scared, jealous (FGSJ!). Opening strava without thinking, and immediately closing it, but not before I’ve scrolled through enough friends’ runs for pure rage to well up in my throat. In the office, I hear someone standing in the kitchen complaining about their track session last night, and am rooted to my desk by cold twisting vines of envy.
The worst thing is, I don’t know whether I *am* being sensible. Yes, I acted on the first signs of injury, I went to see a physio, I pulled out of my marathon, I stopped training. But I didn’t stop running completely. 12 weeks on, I can manage 20 miles a week, but my knees aren’t cured. They don’t hurt, but the backs still swell up after a run, and I can’t run two days in a row.
At the back of my mind is the fear; what if this is for ever? And what if I just have to accept it? My first running injury (a cracked metatarsal) sent me to the GP, who was mystified as to why I was bothering the NHS with this minor issue. We are not elite athletes. No-one is going to greet us with concern at a packed walk-in clinic, and say “You need an x-ray and a CT scan, stat”. Doctors, like non-runners, think that if your knees hurt when you run, you should stop running. Just do something else instead!
I have been doing other things. Pilates, hiit workouts, deadlifts and squats, swimming. But cycling is too painful on the crotch (how do women do it??!), swimming breaststroke makes my knees click, and the gym plays terrible loud music.
I want to be outside. I want to be running. I don’t want to be sensible.
FGSJ!
Not a Jogger 