November Update: Groaning and Hoping

Slowly but surely, I am getting used to not running.

My last pain-free run was sometime, ages ago, back in the middle of August during the final buildup to the Superior 100 (which I decided to start, but then dropped at 51.2 mi). Since mid-August, I've experienced tightness and mild discomfort behind my left knee. At first I treated it like all the rest of my running-induced aches and pains: eh. But as the soreness lingered, I began to realize — reluctantly — I'd probably need a longer break from running.

One of the things I've learned through the years is that there are two types of pain associated with running: good pain and bad pain. "Good" pain is really just the body's normal way of adapting to the stresses of training. Similar to lifting weights (which I tried once upon a time in high school for basketball), there is a type of lingering soreness which deserves almost no attention. It is expected and healthy. But there is the possibility of "bad" pain, which is basically the body's way of saying "stop please" — or "what are you doing?!" or "are you an idiot?!" depending on one's personality. This type of pain happens when the stresses of training exceed the body's normal recovery capacity, basically when I'm asking my body to do something I have not prepared it for. And bad pain will require special attention from the runner in order to recover.

The trick, of course, is distinguishing between these two types of pain. Confusing good pain for bad pain will result in stunted progress. Confusing bad pain for good pain will result in further injury (and a longer recovery time). It's a tricky business, training hard without breaking the body's recovery threshold (which I think is elastic, further complicating things), but such is the reality of running in bodies that have been affected by Adam's sin (Genesis 3 and Romans 8:18-25). The "10% rule" has been very helpful for me (no more than a 10% increase in volume every two weeks), but it's not always easy to obey.

My best guess at an injury diagnosis from those heavy mileage weeks in August (97, 100) is that I strained my popliteus muscle/tendon area, which is the part of the leg God designed to help with bending and flexing. But we'll see what the doctor says next week. There are lots of muscles and tendons in that region. This is similar to an injury I had back in college (from speed work that time, I believe).

It is weird, not running. Not exploring the trails on a daily basis has reminded me how integrated running is with the rest of my life (thinking, sleeping, eating). It will be interesting to see how this injury affects my approach to training in the future.

Anyways, here are some things that have helped pass the time in these months of waiting (in no order):

1. Sometimes, I've completely avoided following running-related things. As much as I want to be happy for other people, it is still a little difficult (at times) to see people enjoying what you really want to enjoy but can't. Especially with how nice and long the fall was here in Minnesota. I imagine this dynamic is true in all kinds of suffering, whether it is exercise-related or not.
2. Sometimes, I've obsessively followed running-related things online. While I'd rather be running, sometimes it's been helpful to give my imagination to running — even while I sit on the couch. Doing and following the things I did back before injury helps me imagine what it will be like when I actually get to run again. Shoes reviews, race recaps, etc., helps me remember that I won't (hopefully) always be injured. I even found myself charging my GPS watch the other day, just because.
3. On a related note, I've planned a tentative race schedule for 2016: Strolling Jim (May), FANS 24 Hour (June), Voyageur 50 Mile (July), Twin Cities Marathon (October), and Pinhoti 100 (November). Again, imagining a future in which I am running helps in the present. Will I break the 5 hour mark at Strolling Jim for my first gold shirt? Will I run a 24 Hour PR at FANS? Will I finally break 8 hours at Voyageur? Will I finally break the 3-hour barrier at the TCM? Will I qualify again for Western States at Pinhoti? Will I be able to run for PRs at the shorter distances as well (5k, 10k, etc.) next year? For me, asking the questions is more important than the answers.
4. Beyond 2016, I've also become intrigued with these race possibilities: Georgia Death Race (March 2017) and Big Backyard Ultra (October 2017). GA Death Race is a Western States qualifier close to home in the north Georgia mountains. Big Backyard Ultra is a race without a finish line. Runners must complete a 4.16667 mile loop in under an hour, every hour, until no one can finish the loop. The last man standing is the winner. I think the last time this race was held it went 48 hours (200 miles). Again, food for the imagination.

One day I will run again, but until then I will not.