The Injury: Epilogue

At the end of a good mystery novel, it always seems like the brainy detective brings the main characters together to lead them step-by-step through the reasoning process that finally revealed the murderer and the motive. The clues are examined one by one. Some are dismissed as irrelevant, while others are shown to be be crucial. The denouement is always startling -- it was the DAUGHTER? the UNCLE? the KINDLY DOCTOR? The detective's intellectual vigor and insight uncover hitherto unsuspected relationships. The pieces of the puzzle come together with a satisfying finality.

While it has some of the elements of a detective story, this injury saga does not have a tidy ending. First of all, no brainy detective figures in this story, although I have at times wished for a sports medicine Sherlock Holmes to swoop in and dispel the doubts and fears. Second of all, the clues both false and true are still somewhat in dispute, and the conclusions are tentative.

However, there is this one similarity: injuries, like crimes, inspire narratives. A narrative is how we try to make sense of events and experiences that are troubling or problematic. I started telling myself this story way back in February, and, as you can probably guess, I've had to keep revising it as fresh evidence became available.

Basically, I had this need to try to make sense of something that wasn't such a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but was a little bit bigger (to me) than a pulled muscle. For me, training is all about learning, and it seemed that I had not grasped the proper lessons.

I had sustained an injury -- I now think that the "January injury" was a strain or tear of the gluteus medius muscle -- that was was probably the result of a lot of factors. These might have included what the ever-perceptive Dr. Chasen describes as SNDS (Stress, Nutrition, Depression, and Sleep). He wisely observes that this cocktail of risk factors doesn't cause injuries, but creates the conditions in which they become more likely. He might also have added that as one ages, it is increasingly untenable to ignore the need for increased recovery and a more systematic approach to maintaining overall health.

I also suspect that this injury came on top of some pre-existing problems, specifically weakness in the gluteal muscles, and chronic soreness, tightness, and scarring in the hamstrings themselves. Of course, I had been ignoring these problems for a long time (had gotten in the habit of doing the wrong thing).

In a rare moment of insight back in March, I remarked to someone that I had SRS -- Stubborn Runner Syndrome. I think that was probably the best self-diagnosis I made in the last 12 months. But identifying the problem and licking the problem are two different things.

Injuries inspire narratives. In narratives we try to tease out the lessons learned, and we try to use the past to be better in the future. I know that this narrative is not over, and that I am still at risk for a flare-up of the problems that have been present all spring. I also know that for now, my focus has to be on overall health rather than specific training goals.

What else did I learn?

I certainly have a new-found appreciation for the intricate sequence of biomechanical events that comprise the running stride. It doesn't take much, really, to interrupt that sequence and cause the finely tuned machine to break down. I also appreciate the big role of small muscles. Suddenly, all the emphasis on core strength and stability makes a lot more sense to me.

But more important, I think, I was reminded that running doesn't exist in a vacuum -- it is an activity that we undertake in a social and personal context, and reflects many actions and conditions of the life we are living around that hour or two a day in which we don nylon shorts and old race t-shirts and head out for another few miles. For me, it mattered a lot that people cared how I was doing. It mattered a lot that even my worst day of running was a way of connecting with a world that I loved.

In some ways, serious injuries never go away. Some injuries create permanent mechanical weakness in the body. Others leave permanent impressions on the mind and psyche. I still warm up the way I do because of a calf injury I suffered almost 25 years ago. I'm sure that I'll forever do these new stretches that I've learned as a result of becoming more intimately acquainted with my lesser glutes.

And that's ok with me. After many months of having my injury knocking at my door and me ignoring the persistent rapping, I finally let it in and we had good long talk. And if it stays in touch, well at least it has been an interesting companion.