The Road to Recovery

Being a stubborn runner is a blessing and a curse. Running wisdom, which I apparently lack, is knowing which is which. It's been a month since I first pulled my hamstring and my refusal to take it slow has only delayed my recovery. But I've learned my lesson, three injuries later.

Four weeks ago I ran the first two miles of a five mile loop at a quick, even pace - 6:48 minutes each. But I soon felt a slight pop in my left hamstring and thought it better to rest (wise) but only after I jogged the remaining three miles home (unwise). I continued to stretch and massage my affected leg daily (wise) but tried running on a hard surface with a slight incline a week later (unwise) re-pulling the same hamstring after just half a mile. Frustrated, but determined, I waited another week to rest (wise), but got a bit ahead of myself and started running at too fast a pace, re-pulling my hamstring yet again (most unwise).

Technically I had a hamstring sprain - not a "pull" - specifically a Grade 1 injury, the least severe among three levels. Walking around and doing normal daily physical activity was fine, but running at a decent speed was not possible. After slowly wising up after my third hamstring injury, I took yet another week off and ran two miles at a very slow, gingerly pace. The result? No pain, praised be! I rested for another week before running again - I would like to say this was part of a strategic, well thought out training plan, but it was really just laziness. Nonetheless, the extra rest may have done me some good. I ran 3.5 miles today at an average 8:15/mile pace, even running the first miles in just over 7:00 minutes (super unwise again), before realizing my folly and scaling it back some (wise, finally).

I'm not yet 100% recovered, but after these last two runs my legs feel fine. My repeated injuries this past month reminded me of a fortune cookie message a friend once received that read, "Your greatest enemy is your own stupidity." One might ask why I kept pushing myself so soon, even though I was still recovering. I have no legitimate reasons or rational explanation, only stubborn emotions: I finally got to the point where running was becoming enjoyable, slightly addictive even. And I realized that even more difficult than a challenging run is not running at all. A wise runner, however, would have probably told me that I had to stop running - if even for a short time - to become a better runner.