Whether we’re in the midst of training for a race or just going about our normal lives, sustaining an injury can be one of the most agonizing experiences we endure—especially for athletes. Injuries shatter our plans, sabotage our goals, and can even hinder our ability to live a normal life. Even when we’re not in constant pain, the awareness of the injury lingers at the back of our minds, haunting us as soon as we take the first steps out of bed in the morning. As my friend so aptly put, injuries are like luggage; we carry them with us everywhere we go.
After returning from a month-long trip to Mexico, relaxed and rejuvenated, I was ready to plunge head first into my training for a 100 mile race schedule for this July. Just weeks into my first training block, I developed a case of plantar fasciitis—a condition I’ve heard many runners complain about, but had never encountered before. It began mild, with just a bit of soreness in my left foot, but as I persisted in running through it, the pain intensified. Eventually my runs became almost unbearable, and the plantar fasciitis spread to my right foot as well. At that point, I made the tough call to end my +6 year run streak and hang up my runners up for a while, giving my body the rest it needed to properly recover.
It’s been over a month since I stopped running, marking the longest break I’ve taken since I started running over a decade ago. Running has been an integral part of my life for most of my adulthood. If you asked me two months ago if I could even fathom taking this much time off, I would have laughed and said, “absolutely not.” Yet here we are, over a month later, and while I expected to feel devastated without my beloved activity, I’ve been able to come to terms with it. I’ve found a sense of peace and calm that I never would’ve predicted.
During my 6 year run streak, I encountered injuries that lasted a few months at a time, prompting me to modify my activity to continue running while healing. This injury hit different. Despite trying all my go-to methods for recovery, my plantar fasciitis pain worsened, and eventually spread to my other foot. The uncertainty surrounding this injury, along with the unknown healing timeline and returning to my normal activity levels, is the most challenging aspect.
It’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to partake in my race in July, and if the case is really bad, my two races in August and October might be on the chopping block as well. While most cases of plantar fasciitis resolve within 1-3 months, many people continue dealing with it 6 months to a year, or even longer, depending on factors like the severity and activity levels of the individual. The possibility of still recovering from this injury 4-6 months later, is pretty devastating. It’s been one of the hardest experiences I’ve faced in years.
I could go on and on about how much injuries suck. It’s easy to wade in the waters of despair and self-pity, something I’ve become a master at over the last few months. However, instead of just complaining about how hard it’s been, I want to share some creative reframes on how I’ve been able to adapt to my new circumstances. Injuries can be isolating, but sharing and hearing about our common struggles can be as comforting as a warm, cozy blanket, making us feel less alone. Throughout this experience, I’ve actively sought out other people who have also struggled with plantar fasciitis, which has significantly helped my mental health.
If you’re currently injured, remember that you are not alone. It’s easily forgettable when everyone around us is in prime health. While statistics vary, some studies indicate that 50-65% of regular runners get injured each year, with 80% experiencing injury at least once in their running career. It sucks, but it’s common. Knowing these figures provides a modicum of solace, but I still feel emotional extremes stemming from this damn injury.
I’ve cried, felt hopeless, discouraged, frustrated, annoyed, and sad—so very sad. I’ve allowed myself to feel my feelings fully, writing about them and sharing them with my amazing community. This process had helped me traverse this brutal experience including the shattered plans, and the uncertainty on where to take my life next. I’ve used this experience as an opportunity to search for meaning and uncover what life is teaching me at this juncture. An unexpected side effect of this hapless situation is feeling happier and lighter than I have a in years—a plot twist if I ever heard one. You might wonder, how can that be?
It’s time to stretch
If you’re a Type A, highly driven, ambitious person, you’ve likely dealt with the issue of balance. How do you balance your lofty goals with work, relationships, and perhaps kids if you have em’? The truth is, most of us can’t. In the pursuit of our big goals, were likely going to go through periods of imbalance, and that’s usually okay. If we’re lucky enough to have a solid support system, the important people in our lives understand that some sacrifice is necessary for us to pursue endeavours that are personally meaningful to us. When training for a big race, you’re likely not going to have the social battery to visit with friends as much, especially on big training days. During busy work seasons, maybe you have to spend a bit more time at the office than at home until things slow down and become more manageable. Or perhaps you’re working on a big creative project and need alone time and space to really immerse yourself in your creative flow. Whatever the focus, something else in your life has to give. The issue arises on how often you make these sacrifices. If we consistently prioritize our careers, creative projects, and athletic endeavours, and relegate our relationships, problems can ensue.
My relationships are always the first on the chopping block in terms of time commitment when training for a big race. I might not see my closest friends for weeks, becoming somewhat of a recluse. While my friends have come to expect these busy seasons, entering into a serious relationship was a different story. I realized that constantly saying “no” to social plans for months, was no longer going to fly. Before I met my now fiancé, I was living a solitary existence, focusing on my ambitious goals to fill my time. I followed a rigid daily schedule, squeezing in all my important activities seven days a week:
Reading: 5-6 am
Writing: 6 – 8 am
Training: 8am – 10am
The schedule served me well for a long time. It helped me make tangible progress in my life and accomplish things. So why stop? Well, there’s more to life than striving towards accomplishment, and it took me a very long time to realize that. While nurturing my relationships was always important, I habitually prioritized my schedule; placing my running, reading, writing, and training above my people. When we’re single, we can do what we want, when we want, but when we enter into relationships, compromise is needed. While I don’t think it’s healthy to give up everything, and things you do that make you who you are, there needs to be some flexibility. I needed to stretch, and not just because I have plantar fasciitis and extremely tight calf muscles.
The rigidity in my schedule wasn’t resulting in the happiness it was supposed to bring. If my schedule got messed up for a day, I could deal, but if it happened more than that, I began to feel this underlying anxiety that I needed to get back on track. I’d feel guilty for not adhering to my schedule and I’d feel guilty for not spending the mornings with my partner—a difficult, lose-lose scenario.
Yet, within any routine, lies a conundrum: oftentimes our routines, while providing stability, safety, and inspiration, can also drain our lives of spontaneity and the joy of living. Life can begin to feel drab and insipid, where our experiences all start to mesh into a feeling of sameness—our own version of groundhog day.
Before my injury, I was feeling more creatively blocked than ever; a prolonged case of writer’s block. I had so much stuck energy that I didn’t know how to release. It wasn’t just my creative writing that was suffering…My bad workouts exponentially exceeded the good ones. I resolved after months of feeling this way, that I was burnt out. I was forcing myself to do things even when my body and mind were screaming to rest—a passion paradox.
It’s no surprise that I inflicted an overuse injury. I had been squeezing the juice out of my body for so many years, and my body finally rebelled, and said, “enough.” I tried to resist, running through it, but finally acquiesced to the injury, ended my streak and stopped running. What happened next shocked me.
The moment I let go, I immediately felt lighter. Instead of feeling grief, which I thought would accompany the comedown of a major life quest, I became excited for the possibility to grow and try new things. For too long, my life and routines had felt stale and deep down, I craved change, but fear held me back from mixing things up. Even when we’ve ingrained the healthiest of habits, a truly fulfilling life demands fresh experiences. It’s all too easy to fall into a rut, going through the day-to-day motions on autopilot. Shitty things that happen can smack us in the face, giving us a much needed wake-up call, forcing us to re-evaluate our life, and make some serious pivots.
Welcoming the new
Disrupting my daily routine, gave me more creative energy. Despite being sidelined from running and limited to short walks only, I felt my body physically loosen. I could now go with the flow of the day and not worry about where and when I would run. I was lucky enough to still maintain the ability to do my strength training and use the stationary bike, but it didn’t feel like I had to do it. Working out was a privilege again, not a should or a must.
The reality is that my injury may take many months to heal and I’ve accepted that. Rather than biding my time until I can return to the trails, I realized the importance of finding another lower impact activity to supplement with—something that would let me get outside for long periods of time and cross-train for endurance. Cycling, with its close resemblance to running mechanics, seemed like the obvious choice. So, I decided to take the plunge and ordered a new, sexy bike.
When I moved to the west coast, I was a self-proclaimed road runner, but gradually transitioned into more trail running. My first west coast trail race, the Squamish50 was an absolute disaster. I wore road runners in “atmospheric rivers”, being so inadequately prepared from a gear perspective, that I spent more time on my ass than on my feet. I wore road runners in a few trail traces in Ontario and got away with it, but road runners were not gonna fly for mountainous ultras with rainy weather being the norm—especially one of Gary Robbins notoriously gnarly races. I left that race feeling defeated, but also proud that I did something new. I felt like an amateur again, and I kinda loved it.
There’s something so beautiful about being a beginner. There’s no pressure to be good right away, and you get to learn and experience new things without the plague of performance pressure. Practicing Shoshin or “beginner’s mind” is a mindset I’ve actively tried to cultivate over the last few years. When we start something new, we have more humility. Our minds are more malleable and willing to absorb new information. As we get deeper into our practice, developing our skills, we become more confident and competent, but there’s a downside. Shunryu Suzuki explains that mastery, means less possibility. Even though I’d been road running for over a decade, the world of trail made me feel like a beginner again. I needed to learn long ascents, technical descents, and invest in learning new gear that would allow me to safely be on the trails for full days (and nights). It was a steep learning curve and I wasn’t very good at the beginning, but watching myself slowly get better, was deeply gratifying.
Injuries present an opportunity to try something entirely different, to enjoy being a beginner again. While I thought about buying a bike a few times, I’m unsure as whether I’d actually invest in one if I wasn’t injured. I now have an activity that will get me outside and moving—especially on days where my plantar fasciitis flares up and becomes so painful that I can’t walk. Biking is my contingency plan for the summer, and while I’ll of course be disappointed if I can’t hike, at least I’ll still be able to get outside and enjoy beautiful Vancouver.
If you’re injured, what’s something you can do? Can you strength train? Can you bike? Can you row? Can you swim? Until my bike is ready to go, I’ve been spending a lot time on the stationary bike at the gym and building a lower body strength training habit. For over a year, I’ve done only a handful of leg days, fearing that I’d injure myself again from too much load with my daily running habit. Ironically, I think this very neglect had led me to develop the plantar fasciitis in the first place–my running mechanics were off from weak legs, where I was putting too much pressure and load on the fascia. I’m now addressing the root cause, building leg and calf strength in the hopes of preventing the plantar fasciitis from returning. Since the streak is done, when I do return to running, I can slot leg strength sessions on days where I’m not putting in serious mileage. Overall, I feel like a more well-rounded athlete.
In addition to biking, I’m now contemplating some new shifts in my career and creative work; big changes are coming down the pipe, which I’m stoked about. I feel that sense of energy and excitement that I haven’t felt in a long time. Painful experiences can be the impetus behind some of our biggest, most rewarding life changes. As much as I loathe this injury, I’m grateful that it happened. I needed it to happen.
So, what now?
Long injuries with no end date are some of the hardest things we go through, especially the ones that impact our daily life. Plantar fasciitis not only temporarily took running from me—my number one tool for mental health—but it also stripped me of the ability to go for walks, run simple errands, and do things with my friends and partner. It’s also taken up so much space in my brain, which has hindered my confidence.
I’m so tired of talking about this injury and feel like a broken record when I see my friends and family. It’s shaken up my entire existence and it’s been much harder than even the the most intense training blocks and gnarliest races I’ve done. I know one thing for sure: I’m going to be hella grateful when I finally get back to running, and even walking long periods pain-free. Whenever I make plans, I always need to consider my foot injury. When I ignore the pain because I don’t want to miss out fun opportunities, the flare-ups get so bad that I can’t even walk a quarter of a mile without pain. So, I’ve asked my support system for help.
My friend asked last week if I wanted to go for a walk with him and I said I can’t walk much right now but I have become an “expert sitter.” We can still enjoy the outdoors and a good chat, minus the movement. The less I do now, the more I can do later (and long term). Doing less is mentally way harder than doing more. Not walking much in a day feels more challenging than a 3-hour run. Optimal loading is my goal now. Figuring out the right balance of building up my walking, but not walking too much to cause a flare-up. “Recovering from plantar fasciitis is a dance,” says my physiotherapist. You need load, but not too much load. Iyiyi.
I haven’t sustained injuries that have completely taken me out of the game over the last 15 years so I would consider myself very lucky. I keep telling myself that this is my time and I will get through it. I’m using this downtime as an opportunity to explore new experiences, spend more time nurturing my relationships and to contemplate my life, and some new potential paths. All the physio exercises that I’ve now made into a habit will help protect me from mechanical injuries and imbalances in the future. As Nietzsche once wrote, “To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” There is always meaning in experiences like this, but we need to actively look for it.