When I started running, my expectations weren’t exactly what I’d call “realistic.” My lungs had never been great with cardio, and I couldn’t run a full mile without stopping. Didn’t matter – I wasn’t about to let those minor details get in the way of setting some lofty goals. Run a 5k at a 7-minute pace? That sounded like a great idea. Just a little training and I’d be there in no time!
I set up a crazy schedule alternating between regular runs and sprints and saw no reason I couldn’t be at my goal within a year. Every run day was hard, and while I loved the results I was seeing, the activity itself was just plain unpleasant. I got butterflies in my stomach before every sprint, and every day I didn’t meet my scheduled goals I felt grouchy and inadequate.
Then the injury happened – on a day I was physically exhausted and should have taken it easy but decided to do sprints instead. The pain started a few seconds into my first round, and when it did there was no question something was wrong with my hamstring. I gave it a few minutes at an easy jog to see if the sensation was something I could run off. Nope – and just like that, my aggressive training plan was derailed.
With that sinking feeling that comes from knowing you’ve damaged yourself, I grudgingly decided to take a week off. One week turned into a month, and that month turned into several months more. Every time I tried to get back to training, I’d have mediocre days at best and bad days at worst. Inevitably I’d wind up needing to take more time to let my hamstring heal.
After a year of this same cycle, I acknowledged it was time to see a sports med doc. Fortunately, no tears or major damage were found, and a few months of physical therapy were enough to get me back on the trails – exciting! Not so exciting, however, was the fact that by that point I’d lost most of the progress I’d made. I welcomed myself back to square one. Running was hard, even at the slowest of paces, and my motivation waned. I considered throwing in the towel and just sticking to the stationary bike at the gym, but it was hard to give up the outside activity and opportunity to run with friends.
It wasn’t until I realized what I’d be losing by calling it quits that I gave myself permission to strive for less. I did away with all my time goals and even allowed myself to stop and walk when I needed to. In a complete departure from any goals I’d set before, my new aim was just to show up. Even if I only ran 5 of 30 minutes out on the trails, the day was a win just for getting out there. Sure, I wasn’t working toward anything revolutionary, but being outside felt good, and not expecting unrealistic gains on every run felt even better.
These days, I (mostly) maintain that mentality, and running is something I look forward to. I love relaxing into the rhythm of my footfalls. Plus, all that energy that was previously going into killing myself for time I now channel into appreciating the world around me. Added bonus: “just showing up” so consistently has led to pace improvements without even trying. And while speed isn’t my goal anymore, I’d be lying if the old me wasn’t just a little proud of my progress.
