Now I’m starting to get somewhere. I’ve hit two significant milestones this week as I slowly edge my way back to pre-injury levels of running. There’s still a very long way to go, but I’m starting to see it, poking over the horizon as I run towards it.
Milestone 1 – I made it all the way round Cardiff Bay. This is one of those runs that has always been a benchmark, harking back to my early running days working so hard to get round it. I’d been working my way up very slowly and methodically, three runs a week then up the distance by half a mile provided the runs went well. That’s fine early on, but by the time I hit four miles the constant clock watching was getting me down – is my pace ok? Will the run be far enough? What if it’s too far, will I make it home? Add to all that the sheer tedium of running the same route every time, just because I was confident I could work out the distance, and I was at serious risk of losing my running joy.
Time for a chance of tack. Surely getting back to four miles was enough to start trusting myself again? How about choosing a shorter route, but not looking at my watch and just listening to my body instead?
Every now and then, at the most unexpected moments, we just get it right. I came back after that run feeling energised and positive so a few days later, in desperate need of a proper change of scene, I laced up, hid my watch under my sleeve, and set off for 5 miles around the Bay. At last I could run over the barrage again and feel the wind (and rain!) in my face, with the scent of the sea and the views across the Channel to keep me going. It’s something special even on a drizzly day in January, and more than ever this year after waiting so long to get back there.
I may not have planned the timing, but I always knew that milestone number 1 was something I was actively working towards. Milestone number 2, on the other hand, was a completely unexpected treat. We’re still in lockdown, have been since before Christmas with no end currently in sight, so I didn’t think there was any chance of running with someone else. I’ve missed it dreadfully, the company, the chat and the camaraderie, then out of the blue today my eldest son decided to come with me, cycling next to me as I ran. I’d forgotten quite how hard running and talking can be as he chatted perfectly naturally, riding gently beside me. But I settled into it, slowly picking up the pace as I remembered how to breathe and talk, rediscovering the joy of a shared experience in the outdoors.
Recovery is a slow process, there’s no hiding from that. Even when progress is good, it takes time to build up strength and endurance again, without risking a relapse by pushing too hard, too soon. Small milestones along the way can make all the difference, achievable goals to remind us that we are moving in the right direction. Ticking off those goals and setting new ones is going to give me a focus now, a nearer focus than the big one of being back to pre-injury strength. If I’m lucky, those little goals will hide the big one for long enough to get me there without realising it.
I Run Free 