Pain is Evidence of Living a Full Life

I owned every second that this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

One Republic

As I sit at the keyboard, I am having a hard time because my upper arm is in pain and when I move it, I can’t help but wince in pain. The Ibuprofen I took, having very little effect in minimizing my pain.  I look down at my feet and my one toe is all black and blue and another is missing a toenail. On the plus side the scabs from a recent fall on a trail run are almost gone and the blackeye from taking a header on another trail race is just a post on Facebook now. These injuries are the courtesy of an above average active lifestyle of running and, in the summer playing volleyball.

While I do my best to avoid injuries, I am not always very successful. They happen fairly often though they are usually just small things that just slow me down and do not stop me. It happens often enough that on my way out of the house for trail race or volleyball game my wife’s loving words of encouragement are not “Good luck. I know you will crush it!” oh no. It is the words “Don’t come home hurt.” Which she says in the same tone as when she would lecture our kids when they were five years old about negative behavior.

So obviously the hardest part about these injuries is telling my wife. Because I know she will not be sympathetic. No because as she says “No sympathy for stupidity!” It is her time to be a bit smug and without saying the words but letting me know “I told you so.”

I am sure you are wondering why a man now in his sixties would still do activities that have a high probability of causing injury or some type of pain? While also to make matters worse, will get no sympathy from his family.

Sometimes I ask myself the same question but in a different way. What I will ask myself is “Are you still up to this challenge? and “Are you too old for the challenge?” Finally, “Is it worth the risk?” Obviously, the answer so far is to keep pushing myself.

When you are pushing yourself as much as you can injuries and pain are inevitable. They are small obstacles put in your path to challenge you. They can also make you smarter because they are learning opportunities, the more I run the more I try and avoid injuries learning from past mistakes. I obviously am a slow learner as my missing toenails, swollen feet, and black eyes attest to.

Yet I don’t believe that you can live life fully unless you are fully engaged. Often that means a rugged trail race or ultra marathon. Yet it does not have to be an athletic or physical activity. It could be professional or personal. Think about a promotion that you did not get that you tried for. Think about when you were younger (Actually any age.) and you said “I love you.” And it was not reciprocated. I have experienced those bruises too. Frankly they hurt more than a missing toenail or blackeye.

When I was in the last few miles of running almost two-hundred miles from the top of New Jersey to the bottom, my friend Kevin who was running alongside me and was playing music to keep us motivated and inspired asked what song would I like? I asked for an usual song that was not “Eye of the Tiger” or “We are the Champions!” or any other traditional hard driving song. No, I asked for “I Lived” by One Republic. This is not their biggest hit, but it speaks to me. The lines “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” Is how I look at not just attacking my running, but attacking life itself. You go all out. You push yourself.

That is because you do not know what you are capable of unless you try. Inevitably you will fall or get hurt either physically or emotionally. It is not pleasant but at least it is a sign that you are giving it your all.

On my most recent trail race I took five falls. A personal high. On the last one it was a complete header. I face-planted and my glasses were hanging on one ear the water bladders flew from my vest. I slowly got up and tried to regain my composure. Another runner came up behind me and she had witnessed my ungraceful display of agility. She helps me gather my stuff up and offered me some sympathy. Obviously, the runner was not my wife.

I continued on, slightly in pain and with the beginning of a blackeye. Several miles from the finish I passed another runner who was now walking. I asked how he was doing. He said “I fell three times and decided to walk it in because it was not worth an injury.” I remained quiet and did not tell him my haphazard running experience. I know that if my wife heard that two struggling runners met and one played it safe and walked it in and one disregarded the obstacles and pain and pushed on quickly. She would know which one was her husband. The stupid one.

Yet when I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted and almost immediately my body stiffened up. All the adrenaline was gone and walking to the car I looked like an eighty-year-old man. My muscles cramped slightly as I slowly eased my way into my car. I was exhausted and in pain. A common occurrence after a race like this. Yet despite all that I felt so alive. The song started playing in my head “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” I have the scars to prove it.

 

 

 

 

A Runner Feeling Lost Staying in Place with no Destination

I am looking lovingly at my gnarly toenail on my big toe. It is about to come off with a yellowish-purple hue and dried blood underneath. Most people would be repulsed and cringe at the sight of such an ugly toe but at this time I am admiring it. It is a symbol of who I was and who I want to be again. It is a souvenir of my last trail race, an ultra-marathon. A tough course that I was proud that I finished under the cutoff time. There are few things more exhilarating than finishing an ultra-marathon, marathon or a long trail race.

Yet I can’t plan any more races. I look down on the floor next to the recliner and gaze with frustration at my crutches. They will be my constant companions for the next month as I begin the long process of becoming a runner again. I am so longing to lose another toenail again.

You see I am lost. I am a runner who can’t run. In fact I can’t even walk at the moment. I remember the visit to the doctor’s office, to discuss my MRI. Going in I knew what to expect, a torn meniscus, with surgery to follow. I had researched the issues and was confident that while I would be sidelined for a while it would not be very long before I could start an active lifestyle again. Yes maybe I wouldn’t run an ultra-marathon soon but I would be able to run and walk fairly quickly. My orthopedist walked in and handed me the printout that described the MRI results. I was a little perplexed as to why he gave it me because my understanding of medical terminology is very limited. Basically when I am seeing a doctor my vocabulary is “Yes that hurts” and “Yes I feel awful”. Despite my limited knowledge I started scanning through the results and what I quickly spied was a separate paragraph that stated “shows no articulating meniscal tear” I was shocked! If it’s not my meniscus what is it I thought?

He soon answered my question “You have a bone issue”. It was a stress fracture of my knee bone. The only way for this to heal, is to not put weight on my knee. That meant crutches for a while and even when I was feeling better one crutch or a cane. I had to keep weight off of my right leg. No Running or even walking for a long time. He said I wouldn’t be running again until the summer and this was mid-March and so it was not even spring yet. I was scared because I knew that this was going to be hard for me. I am constantly in motion and now I had to slow down considerably.  Despite my trepidation I was still determined and told him “When I run my next 100 mile run or the state of New Jersey again. I will let you know, so that other patients know what is possible.”

My bravados of that statement however was confronted immediately as he handed me the crutches. He saw how I was looking at office exit and ready to depart his office quickly. His parting words of advice to me was “Think slow”. I quickly said I would and then hobbled out of his office rather quickly on my crutches. Lesson not learned.

Over the next few days however I learned that I would have to not only “think slow” but move slow. This slow action would be the quickest way to heal. That was easier said than done. When it is in your nature to be in motion it is hard to sit still. Even at work when I am at a meeting, I would buzz around a room talking to as many attendees as possible. Yet now I stayed in one place.

I was always able to persevere through a race despite pain and fatigue simply by focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and to keep moving. This is different. Very different. To push through, I actually have to not move. I am worried about the side effects of this healing process. Basically weight gain and becoming permanently lazy.

I now have a new appreciation for the difficulty that people with physical handicaps have to go through. Actions that people who are healthy do not even think about, now become obstacles. When one has to stop and think about “How am I going to get my cup of coffee from the counter to the dining room table?” you realize that this is some people’s everyday life. I come to a heavy door at a retail store and have to pause to contemplate how I am going to get in. My handicap is temporary and I am grateful.

While I cannot use some of my most basic strategies that I used in ultra-marathons to heal this time. There is one strategy I can and will use. That is to break the challenge up into smaller more attainable challenges. For example when I was running almost two hundred miles from the top of New Jersey to the bottom. I rarely thought of the entire feat. That would seem to daunting especially if you are exhausted. Even if I had completed over seventy-five percent of the run at a hundred and fifty miles and there was only forty-six miles left. That last forty-six miles seemed daunting. No I broke it up to just getting to the next aid station and that was usually around eight miles or so. It kept me fresher and focused on what was immediately in front of me. Everything was attainable.

I am doing that with this challenge. Yes I hate just sitting around. Yes I am itching to just get up and walk. Yes this is hard for me. Yet I just say every day I can get through this day. Unlike a race in which I may push through some of the aches and pains. Now I am in tune with my body to see if my pain is diminishing. Every time I sense it is getting better it gives me incentive to continue the process.

I won’t lie. This is killing me. Whenever you watch a video of an athlete’s comeback, it is a video of them working out hard, sweat pouring from their body an inspirational music like from the movie Rocky playing in the background. My video would be of a man sitting in a recliner reading a book or scrolling through his cellphone with the sound of a clock ticking in the background. Hardly inspirational.

There is one other thing that I have to overcome and that is doubt. I know at my age (63) this may take time to heal and that even when I run again I may have to alter my training. Yet I hear the doubt in others when they hear about my injury. A common retort is “You are getting old” or “age is finally catching up.” It really stings because they may be right.  I feel that some are thinking “Ray, you gave it a great run but Father Time is undefeated.” Yet this may be my biggest motivator. I like the challenges of aging. I like the challenge of doing the difficult. I don’t need to win a race… just finish it.

I know that most people will not understand this desire to push my body to its limits but it is who I am. Then again they probably don’t understand my desire to one day to lose another toenail.