Half a year has gone by since I laced up my runners.

There was a long stretch during my recovery when I doubted if I would ever run again. Standing for even a short period was painful, which made the idea of pounding the pavement seem unfathomable at times.

I grieved. I grieved hard. It felt like losing a best friend. For over a decade, running was a place of refuge—lifting me up, giving me confidence, and infusing my life with direction and purpose. When life felt chaotic and out of control, running was my constant. 

Now it was gone.

Despite holding onto hope that my body would eventually heal, I was skeptical. Setback after setback can wear anyone down, regardless of the mental strength they possess.

I’ve gone through injuries before, but they‘ve all been minor. I could always run through them, and with slight adjustments to pace and distance, I’d bounce back to full capacity within a few months at most. 

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What began as plantar fasciitis evolved into a series of complications. It was just one issue after another.

I underwent three ultrasounds, two bone/CT scans, and a MRI. The test results were confusing, and the lack of a clear explanation from my doctor for the contradictory results left me feeling lost, alone, and confused.

Injuries are an individual journey, with no two healing experiences the same. Our bodies don’t always adhere to standard recovery timelines. Sometimes we heal from one injury only to suffer from another shortly after. Recovery is rarely a smooth road.

No one tells you what it’s really like to go through a major injury. There isn’t a guidebook. You just need to go through it, developing your own coping strategies along the way.

This injury didn’t just take away my favourite activity and my hopes and goals; it deprived me of basic everyday activities we usually take for granted—taking a leisurely walk with my partner, running errands, and doing active things with friends. Even simple tasks like cooking and showering became a struggle at one point.

Many times, I would gaze out my window, watching people go about their days, and think how damn lucky they were. The old adage, “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” has never felt more real.

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The Cause

I’m still unsure of the exact cause behind my plantar fasciitis, bilateral stress fractures, partial plantar tear, and tendinopathy in my ankles. The timing of my foot pain after a 40% week-over-week increase in mileage seemed sus, but I had ramped up mileage significantly before without issue.

Why was this time any different? Why did my body finally break-down?

That’s the million dollar question.

I don’t believe it was due to a single incident. One doctor suggested that the sheer volume of running was the culprit, but I think there were many contributing factors. My body had been signaling overtraining for months leading up to the injury. I had never trained so hard and for so long as I did last year, and I didn’t allow my body any recovery time afterward. I just kept pushing through, ignoring the many issues that kept arising.

I was mentally burned out, feeling lethargic and low-energy more often than not. Previous injuries, like my many rolled ankles, which had never fully resolved, began to resurface. A lack of lower-body strength training, flexibility, and mobility for a year led to biomechanical issues.

The ability to push through, persevere, and exert unwavering self-discipline is often exalted in the world of endurance, but you can only push so hard for so long, before the body breaks down.

While I once thought that running with such intensity and frequency was admirable, in retrospect, I feel kinda dumb. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. My body is aging ,and I need to take better care of it. 

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My Recovery

No one I’ve talked to has experienced the same series of injuries within such a short time frame, making it difficult to navigate. I spent a lot of time researching injury recovery with the hopes of discovering the exact ingredients needed to improve my condition. Unfortunately, no such plan existed.

I was willing to try anything to expedite my healing: physio, shockwave, cold laser therapy, and acupuncture. I consumed a whole drugstore of vitamins and made a conscious effort to eat well and often, providing my body with the nutrients it needed to repair itself.

While I believe all these treatments helped to some extent, what really moved the needle was simply rest and time. 

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This summer has been challenging. Normally, I’d be in full training mode, spending most of my time outdoors for long runs or big hikes—taking advantage of Vancouver’s beautiful terrain. Instead, I was forced to chill.

My doctors cleared me to ramp up my cycling, which has been my main mental health tool over the last several months, but deep down, I knew it was more of a hindrance than a help. Although the literature often suggests cycling is a “safe” activity during recovery, my intuition told me it was making things worse. I clung to this last form of aerobic activity because it provided a sense of normalcy and routine in my life.

After yet another flare-up, I decided to take a few days off biking. The effects were immediate. After giving my body a full break and letting go of cycling, my recovery took a dramatic turn for the better and has continued to improve ever since.

I was able to walk for longer periods pain-free, and after about a week of no biking, I increased my walking time to 1-2 hours per day. The absence of flare-ups indicated I was finally on the right track so I continued to roll with it.

For the next three weeks, I continued to load through walking, gradually increasing distances, pace, and incorporating incline treadmill workouts.

My Return to Run Plan

My recent MRI results showed no signs of stress fractures, only moderate plantar fasciitis in my left foot. With this news, I was finally cleared to start a return to run program.

My R2R is conservative and a painfully slow progression, but my whole recovery has been painfully slow, and I feel well equipped to exert the patience I’ve developed, and proceed at a tortoise pace.

My physiotherapist started me with balance work on the Bosu ball to get my feet accustomed to uneven terrain. After about a week, we moved to light plyometrics and dynamic movements to prepare my body for running.  My calves have been incredibly tight, so needling has become a weekly necessity, and daily foam rolling has been doing wonders.

My return to running is barely even running… It’s a walk/jog program with less than 10 minutes of actual running time during the first few weeks.

Here’s what the first few weeks look like:

Week 1:

• 5 minutes of walking x 30 seconds of jogging (repeat 5x)
• Frequency: 2-3 times per week

Week 2:

• 5 minutes of walking x 30-45 seconds of jogging (repeat 5x) or 3-4 minutes of walking and 30 seconds of jogging (less time between walking and jogging)
• Frequency: 2-3 times per week

The rest of my plan will look similar to the Couch to 5K training program. If all goes smoothly, I hope to be back to continuous running within a month. In addition to the walk/run, I’ll be incorporating more hikes and elevation workouts, along with strengthening and dynamic movements, including:

• Sling squat (squat, heel raise, stand-up): 8 reps, 2-3 sets
• One-legged squat off bench: 8 reps, 2-3 sets
• Switch leg march (keep heels on the ground): 15 reps, 2 sets
• Low sit to stand (keep knees straight)
• Forward lunges (keep knees straight)

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I’m not setting any goals or putting any races in the calendar until I’m fully healed. I’ve pressured my body enough into making it do what it doesn’t want to, and am going to allow it  to go fully at its own pace. Ignoring my warning signals is a thing of the past and I’ve now learned to back-off training or take full rest days if that’s what my body is asking.

Post-Streak Running

For nearly 7 years, I’ve run every day, but my return will look much different. I plan to incorporate more rest and variety into my training schedule, which means no more run streaks. While that phase of my life was exciting and rewarding in many ways, it’s over, and I’m ready to move on. My priority is longevity now—being able to do what I love to do for the next 10, 20, and maybe even 30 years.

Life sans streak has actually been nice. I can just go with the flow and mood of the day. If my body is tired and sore, I can rest. I don’t have to wake-up at ungodly hours to run before an early flight or AM plans. I still have a routine and fitness is a big part of my life, but it’s no longer a must, but a privilege. 

When something you’ve loved for years is suddenly taken away, it can be heart-wrenching. You might find yourself having to rewrite your story—adapting, discovering new ways to cope, and figuring out who you are without the things you did daily.

Resisting what’s happening and trying to enforce rigid healing timelines will only hinder your recovery. Trust me.

Even though I still experience minor pain from time to time, I know my body is healing. I’m not sure what the future holds yet. I hope to return to endurance running in 2025, but I’m committed to taking it slow. This year, I’ve focused on building lower body strength and improving mobility. Even though I haven’t been running, I feel stronger and more stable.