Comebacks are hard. They’re gritty, messy, imperfect and full of fits-and-starts. My experience is that the longer the layoff, the messier the return. I’ve been unable to train and race with any regularly since 2014, making for three years of decline. Between time off for a broken foot late last year, and very inconsistent training this spring because of health issues, I’m climbing out of the biggest hole in which I’ve ever been. After seriously thinking I might be done competing, both because my body was waving the white flag and my head was tired of fighting, I realized at WILDER in late May that I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Being in that sacred space with other women who were so passionate about the sport made me realize how much I still wanted this, with the full understanding it might look much different than before. After getting my health into a slightly better place, I started training again in July with no definitive goal in mind. I just wanted to regain some fitness and go from there.
As one would expect, most runs flat out sucked. July in the midwest means serious heat and humidity, weather I don’t tolerate well in the best of circumstances. Couple that with a complete lack of fitness and it’s a recipe for copious amounts of suckage. In an effort reacclimate myself to effort and pacing, I stuck with progression runs for quality. Most of them were terrible. Pacing was all over the place and I’d regularly run out of gas a few miles before meeting my goal for a run. I knew this was just part of the process and worked hard to not beat myself up or get too frustrated. But it wasn’t fun. Not in the least.
As mid-August rolled around, I started to get into a groove. Paces were still terribly slow, but progression runs were becoming actual progressions and I usually completed the full distance as intended. On one particular run, I was a bit more aggressive in the middle, pushing myself more than I had in previous runs making the last two miles rather uncomfortable. The narrative in my head those last few miles was total crap. I was thinking of how miserable I felt and how it didn’t used to be this hard. After the run, I spent some time thinking about “before”…when I was healthy, training and racing at my best. And I had to laugh at myself. It’s always been hard. In fact, it’s been much, much harder.
We runners talk about increasing our aerobic capacity, lactate threshold, capillary density, etc. Things we can measure, and for which there is scientific evidence to guide our training. The deficit I uncovered in myself was a disconnect with effort. I forgot how it felt to suffer. What it felt like to sit in the hurt-box, the pain-cave. I thought back to my PR marathon (3:31 in Oct. 2012), a race that was well-executed with a negative split. I distinctly remember talking to myself for the last four miles. Continuously. Forcing myself to keep my foot on the gas, to keep pushing, when every cell in my being wanted to back off. I had a hamstring that threatened to go, especially the last two miles. I was just willing my body to hang on, which thankfully it did. The last 30 minutes of that race was total agony, as racing often is when done right. The confidence to stay on the gas in a race is cultivated in training, through workouts that force an athlete to work through discomfort, and that help find and explore the edges. Exploring these edges used to be my favorite part of training/racing. I enjoyed a hard effort and standing a bit too close to the fire.
Over the past few years of running, which included very little racing, I became completely disconnected with effort and the hurt-box. I developed a rose-colored glasses for the past, easily forgetting the miles and miles of training and discomfort that accompanied the highlights I replay in my mind. Now that I’ve cracked the lid and peered inside, I see a whole new aspect of training that needs attention. Not only do I need to rebuild my physical self, I need to get comfortable being uncomfortable again.
Not surprisingly, after realizing that I needed to regain an ability to lean into discomfort, the past two weeks have marked a step forward in rebuilding fitness. Last Friday I ran my longest run of the year, with last week being the highest weekly mileage (so far). Times are dropping slowly, and I’m less likely to back off when a run gets uncomfortable. Things still suck much of the time, but I’m ok with that. I feel as though I have a better perspective on the work that needs to be done, and the effort it will take to get back in the neighborhood of my previous level of fitness (if that’s even possible). I hope that by not having a firm end-goal in mind, I can stay present and not look too far down the road. It’s been such a joy to put in some miles again, to work hard, to make myself tired. Running can break your heart, crush your soul, but for me it’s always been like breathing. And for the first time in several years, I can take a deep breath again.
“it is a serious thing // just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in this broken world.” ~ Mary Oliver
