When you are truly committed to running, it can start to define you. When injury takes that away, even temporarily, you can find yourself adrift.
Something had happened to my right calf, and my right calf didn’t want me to run. It wouldn’t be wanting me to run for quite some time, in fact. I was injured.
Nothing about this is all that serious. I’m not a professional athlete. No money will be lost, no career will be damaged, no sponsorship deal will be affected. Nor is the injury terribly bad. It will heal and I will run again and may one day even be a better runner for having had this experience (and many others like it). I do not expect or deserve sympathy. But I do want to talk about what being an injured runner is like, at least for me, and I suspect others.
When you are truly committed, irrespective of ability, running can start to define you. You don’t necessarily mean for it to happen, but as you run more and you get better, and the challenges build up and you continue to meet them, it gives you a lift. Much of the time you spend away from home or at work is based around running. Before you know it, your sense of identity is inextricably linked with your standing as a runner. The regular challenges, the immediate feedback and the real accomplishments that running can provide are all a major boost to your self-esteem. All of which is fine when you’re doing well, but take running away suddenly and you can find yourself feeling adrift.
Unable to go out and run, you are left without the social network that has given you so much support. And there are constant reminders of the things you can’t do. You don’t want to look on Strava, for example, but you can’t help it and the loneliness and the frustration get worse. Running injuries are mostly internal things, and because there are no visible wounds you can’t see the healing process. You never really know how long it will be.
