WARNING! This is not my usual upbeat type of blog. For those, go to the "my other blogs links" at the top of the page
Embrace the pain.....but not until you injure yourself
As an Ironman triathlete, I pride myself on my ability to endure. To “embrace the pain”. And, I’d say I have a pretty high pain threshold. But that may well have been my undoing this past year.
I first strained my hamstring tendon in 2010 playing touch rugby. Since then, (until this year) I’ve managed it through 9 Ironmans and a marathon, but I could never run too explosively (I used to be a sprinter so this was often frustrating). This January, a combination of things flared it up. I knew it was getting angry, but previously I’d always been able to train through and the fitter I got, the better it always got.
Not so this year.
I started the year with some specific run goals, since I’d already decided I wasn’t going to race a full Ironman (perhaps mistake number one?)
This was my message to my coach on 11/11/17:
I started out well - I ran 2 Parkrun 5kms in under 21 minutes in November, which was as fast as I’d run for about 5 years. But then I had a stumble during a race in December that jarred the hamstring, followed by a number of long haul flights and several 5km races over Christmas that aggravated it further. By the time I got back to Melbourne in January, if I’m honest it was as bad as it’s been for a long time.
But in the past, it’s improved as my fitness has increased, so I just kept training. I’d really written off any of those original goals by then though.
Pete and I raced St George 70.3 in Utah in May. He got his slot there for the 70.3 World Champs. I had already qualified in Cebu the previous August. I had a pretty good race in Utah. I don’t remember the hamstring bothering me, although the glutes had seriously tightened up on the flight over - probably one of the first signs of the piriformis syndrome which was what eventually stopped me.
Love replaced by Fear of running
I fell in love with running. Granted, I never was the calibre of an elite runner, but I discovered, aged 30 something that I had been blessed with a natural ability to run, especially long distances with seemingly little fatigue or loss of form. A relatively rare gift. And for me, there is nothing as special as throwing on trainers and just running to explore new and beautiful places. I have been lost in Singapore, run the perimeter of Manhattan, and trotted through New Orleans, Vegas, Santiago.
It hasn’t always been rosy. At times when I was probably overtraining, or needed a break, I found running a chore. I get bored easily, and running the same routes year in year out does become tedious.
But this year I found I was procrastinating more than ever about my runs. And not because of boredom or overtraining. It was fear of being in pain. Of not feeling “like me” when running. I started to question why I was even doing it, and looked forward to riding or swimming more than running.
There were intermittent sessions where I was running like I knew I could, but most of the time I was reduced to a shuffle due to increasing tightness of the glutes. I’d finish a run and wouldn’t be able to bend over at all, and during my runs, I was unable to lift my knees. This resulted in a nasty fall just 3 weeks out from the Gold Coast marathon, 4 kms from the end of a 3hr run. I thought I’d been running ok that day, but looking back, I’d changed my gait to account for the tight glutes, and was barely picking my feet up. The last couple of kms of that run were worse than the end of any Ironman marathon. I just thought it was lack of strength, plus fatigue, and that once I freshened up for the marathon I’d be ok.
I ended up doing the Gold Coast Mara in July in real pain (both glutes, so it appears I had piriformis syndrome by then), and really I knew this was on the cards when I did a taper run 2 days before the race, which was meant to have 100m pick ups. There was zero knee lift whatsoever that day, and my “pickups” were more a slightly faster shuffle.
I finished the marathon in 3.33, and it felt somewhat disingenuous to complain, when many people would love to run that kind of time. But for me, that was nowhere near what I am capable of. My glutes tightened long before my heart rate rose, and I didn’t feel like I was running properly the entire race.
My time qualified me for the Boston marathon in 2019, which I had always promised my best friend Kristen I would run if she raced it again. This was my whole reason for racing the Gold Coast, so I am glad I did. But at what cost?
Making the situation worse
My next hurdle was the 70.3 WC in September in South Africa. I did minimal running between the Gold Coast and that race, in an attempt to let things settle. Saw multiple Physios, massage therapists and had lots of treatment, all squeezed in around a new job (more on that later). They helped to get me to the start line, and I pushed every step of the race, but every step was painful, and I finished with my worst 70.3 run to date, and in tears. I just didn’t want to run through any more pain. The following week’s holiday was amazing, but very uncomfortable, as sitting down was becoming increasingly painful too.
Losing my athlete identity
I stopped running after that. I couldn’t sit at work, so got a standing desk, which made an immediate difference. I went back to my sports doc (Dr Mitch Anderson) and took 6 weeks of nerve pain meds and anti inflams, and at the end of that I was functioning again. But I suspect it was as much the stopping of all running as the medication. I had an emotional breakdown in Mitch’s clinic, about my loss of being able to run. Mitch discussed my coming to terms with the “loss of my athlete identity” and suggested I talk to a sports psychologist he works with.
He was right. I have been blessed with 15 years of running with no injuries that stopped me training for more than a couple of sessions. My episode of fatigue stopped me for about 4 months in 2012, but to be honest I was so exhausted at that point, I welcomed the break. This injury has been unbelievably challenging emotionally. I went through phases of feeling like it wasn’t even worth trying to run anymore, to feeling jealous of everyone I saw jogging on the street, to acceptance that “what will be will be”. I guess the controlling aspect of my character - the part that truly believes if I want to make something happen, it will happen is unable to deal with something that I cannot control.
And on that theme, comes the weight gain and hatred of my body (which doesn’t look like “my” body anymore). I see myself as an athlete, and I can’t stand to see those hard-won defined muscles being covered by fat and cellulite.
A new job in the nick of time
In a way, my saving grace was landing my job at Dairy Australia. This was a bit out of the blue, to be honest. I went from a very flexible job in academia to a very high stress, full time role heading up the National animal health and fertility programs for dairy farmers. Going into this role took my mind off all the injury woes (at least during the day), and not being able to train gave me the time to settle into the job without feeling guilty about not keeping up the training.
But that didn’t help with the weight situation either. I don’t exactly eat badly, but business lunches and a glass of wine at night after a stressful day, with minimal exercise is not going to help. But I was not in the headspace to starve myself, and felt that I needed to give myself a break from the super disciplined existence I have led for so many years.
The damage, isolation and empathy
I weighed myself this week, for the first time since I put the scales away in October. The damage? 73.8kg or 11 stone 6lbs - which I’m pretty sure is the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t feel sorry for myself- I ate and drank as much I wanted on the cruise at Christmas (although I still made predominantly healthy choices and I don’t exactly gorge myself on sweets). But I do feel angry. Angry that I don’t care enough to cut back on portions. Angry that none of my shorts fit me. Angry that I’ve let myself get like that.
And the isolation- I suppose I hadn’t realised how much our life revolves around running and triathlon. Almost ALL our friends are runners and triathletes. When you’re not training regularly, you lose that contact with your community. When you get as overweight as I am, you actually don’t want to see all those fit athletic friends either. It makes you feel even worse about yourself. The cruise was a different matter, we were a lot more athletic than the majority, but that’s no help when you come back home!
And empathy? Well I always felt sorry for people dealing with injuries. But did I really empathise? Probably not. I now understand what they must have gone through. That said, I’d rather have taken a muscle tear, or stress fracture with a relatively defined period of recovery over this injury. No one can put a time on my recovery, and tendon injuries rarely recover fully.
Where to next?
I have Boston in April, and Ironman Austria in July. Some days I believe both are achievable. The biggest improvement has probably come in the past week. I’ve been on a ship with a gym, so I’ve done hamstring curls (single leg but not from the top, and hold at the bottom) and glute exercises daily, and limited sitting. It was much better by the end and I was running up to 5km, relatively pain free. That said I woke up in pain the other morning, so I think it’s one step forward 2 back. I’ve joined a gym so I can keep doing the rehab exercises. I think the way forward is to lose that “athlete identity”, and focus on getting strong first, plus lose some weight. The more I seek to follow a specific run or triathlon program, the more likely I am to have a relapse of the injury. My mentality will always default to “follow the program” rather than listen to my body. Once I’m consistently running pain free, maybe I can start to aim for a consistent program. If I have to walk Boston and the run in Austria, I will. I know many triathletes who do just that (even if they didn’t intend to walk!!)
Several people have asked if it would be better for me to just pull out and fully recover? Maybe for some that would be best. For me? I need a reason to recover. I need the goal, even if that is to just finish at the moment. Otherwise, I fear I’ll just walk away altogether, and I am too invested in this sport to do that.
I’m not sure if many people will have read to the end of this. I would love to put more of a positive spin on things, but as always, my primary goal is to “keep it real”. I know that a lot of people (some who I know very well) are far worse off health wise than I am, and I don’t really have much to complain about, but that kind of thinking is what got me in this position. Having the mentality that my pain can’t be as bad as someone else’s is NOT a balanced way to approach what is still just my hobby and lifestyle!
I hope that my next blog, post Boston will be far more upbeat. But in the meantime if you take anything from this, I hope it is to realise that having what you perceive to be a somewhat compromised approach to training is FAR better than ending up unable to do what you love altogether. Stay safe and train smart.
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