We earn a commission for products purchased through some links in this article hurts when I step onto it each morning. It’s not a sharp pain, and it goes away quickly. Soon it will be gone entirely. I will, of course, be happy when it no longer hurts at all.
In one way, however, I welcome the pain. I appreciate it because it reminds me of something that I’m grateful for. It reminds me that, today, I get to run.
There’s nothing like losing something to help you appreciate it. Or even fearing you might have lost it.
This pain, you see, didn’t start as many running injuries do—a nagging irritant that doesn’t go away. This one came on suddenly and dramatically. One Saturday afternoon last winter I played a little one-on-one basketball with my teenage son. At some point I slipped hard, trying to make a move on him (unsuccessfully, as always). I didn’t notice much pain at the time, and we finished the game.
An hour or so later, I headed out for an easy four miles. Within a mile, the top of my right foot was in agony. I completed the run, but by the time I got home I could barely stand up.
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I’ve had stress fractures before, and this felt similar. I feared the visit to the doctor, the boot, the time off, canceling my winter racing plans, and, most of all, not being able to run. At 52, I always worry that an injury might mean the end of running altogether. At the least, it could easily mean never getting back to the same level of running ease and fitness.
The next day, however, while the foot still hurt, I could stand on it, walk, and even hop a bit—a test to see if something is fractured. I later met with my friend, sports podiatrist and runner Rob Conennello. He examined my foot and concluded that it was likely a strained ligament. He told me that while it would take time to heal completely, it shouldn’t prevent me from running.
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Published: Jun 21, 2017 9:18 AM EDT 5K the next morning. I didn’t push it but was able to run well enough to feel fast and keep up with friends. I don’t even know what my time was—it was irrelevant. I could run!
Two weeks later, I made a trip to Maine and participated with friends, old and new, in the Millinocket Marathon. I had to downgrade from the marathon to the half, and my foot hurt running fast downhill. Who cares? I got to run!
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Having faced the possible end of my running, I viewed it in a new light. Not that there’s been a day since 1977 when I’ve disliked running. I can, however, take it for granted. And if taken for granted, running can become something I should do (or else I’ll get weak and fat), I need to do (because I’ll be depressed if I don’t), or I have to do (because I’ve got a race coming up and a workout scheduled).
There’s a great scene in the Dennis Quaid movie The Rookie where the aging hero, worn out from the pressures and schedule of Minor League Baseball, considers quitting. He stumbles upon a Little League game and remembers that he still loves the sport, that playing it isn’t work but pleasure. Returning to the clubhouse, he says to a teammate, “You know what we get to do today, Brooks? We get to play baseball.”
Formerly the editor-in-chief of have to to get to, It reminds me of something that I’m grateful for. It reminds me that, today, I get to run get to run, I’m figuring out when I’ll be able to. Running isn’t a chore to fit in but a privilege, a treat that I’ll sneak out of work for or skip lunch to enjoy. I’m not trying to figure out the least I can do to keep up with my goals, but the most I can get away with. If I’m lucky, I may even get to run twice today!
Seeing running as a treat also makes me less likely to sabotage the benefits by indulging in excess food and drink afterward. There’s research to back this up: A pair of 2015 studies showed that people who had been told they were exercising for 30 minutes were far more likely to later choose decadent desserts and snacks than those who had been told they were going on a fun, scenic walk—even though the activity was the same. It’s called “hedonic compensation,” a colorful term for our tendency to reward ourselves when we feel we’ve done something virtuous. But if running itself is a reward, an indulgence, there’s no need for something sweet to make up for the sacrifice.
In other research, psychologists have found that runners who successfully keep going into the masters ranks are more likely than younger runners to have a “harmonious passion” for the sport. This means they willingly choose to participate, in contrast to the “obsessive passion” of those who feel they must run to uphold their identities. Like the hero of The Rookie, realizing that participating is a choice, not an obligation, makes runners want to keep doing it as long as they can.
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Being scared I might not be able to run revealed how much obsessive passion I carry. A large part of my identity—professionally, socially, and personally—is tied up in running, and I feel I have to do it at an “acceptable” level. This can be motivating but is also stressful.
Now, however, I feel freed from those obligations. I’m back to training for a race, and while I’m running as hard as ever, I’m not as concerned about outcomes. Every run isn’t a test of whether I’m meeting expectations. I’m just happy when I get to do the workout and thrilled if it goes well.
RW+ Membership Benefits run long. Others I get to run fast. Mostly I get to run often. And when the race arrives, I’ll run as hard as I can. However fast that is will be fine. Regardless of the result, if I’m in the race, I’ll be grateful.
By then, most likely, my foot will no longer hurt. I won’t miss the pain, but I hope I’ll remember the lesson. I hope I’ll still wake up excited about another day in which I get to run.
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Formerly the editor-in-chief of Running Times, Jonathan has been in the sport for four decades. He is the author of the newly released Your Best Stride (Rodale), and he now runs, writes, and coaches on the high plains of western Nebraska.
