Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Secret [to running through pain].

While down the shore last week I read The Secret.  Always a believer in the power of positive thinking, whether sick, healthy, hurt, healing or otherwise lost, I suppose I sought someone's explanation for what I hold myself to:  We get back what we put out there.  Expecting vague confirmation and context, I found a few more practical and surprising applications for the power of positive thought.  

When I run, there is pain.  Every step past about 8.5 miles comes with an ache on the inside of my left heel that often leads to a disconcerting numbness running up my Achilles. This was the case in the Spring of 2009 just as it is the case today.  It is a constant in my workouts and where the ice goes immediately after.  Nothing makes it worse and nothing makes it better - this ache of mine is steadfast and staying around.  It does not respond to expensive inserts, new shoes, tiger balm, ice or Flector patches.  It simply wraps itself around my tendon and holds on for dear life. And so, this ache has been a focus before, during and after runs since I started training. 

On my first day back from the beach (last Sunday), I was scheduled to run 15 miles.  This meant a Saturday full of carbs, water and preemptive left-ankle-icing.  8.5 beautiful miles into the run, on the downside of the Manayunk Toe Path, after jumping over and crawling under fallen trees, my ache wrapped around my ankle and drug me down.  Immediately I found my thoughts shifting from "I'm so lucky to be running across the Falls Bridge on a crisp morning," to "How am I going to put up with this for more than 2/3 of the Marathon; I'll never make it; I should make another appointment with my doctor; Maybe this is more seriouse than I thought it was; What am I going to do!?" 

That's where I stopped.  At mile 10, just as I crossed back over the Falls Bridge, I stopped thinking and repeated, "No more" over and over again for at least a mile.  Once the focus was officially shifted from my pain and I regained control of my thoughts, I began to repeat (out loud at times), "I. Am. Healthy."  Somewhere around Mile 13.5, I checked back in to my strides and footfalls.  As quickly as I realized they were pain free, I checked back out again and repeated "I can do this," until my Garmin beeped me back to the reality of Mile 15 having been completed.

I'm not saying the pain disappeared or that I healed myself with 50 minutes of positive thought.  Rather, I got beyond the pain and put my focus where it belongs - forward. 

Because I am the only one that creates my reality, I made the conscious decision to move beyond my Achilles and refocus myself on the positive.  For me, this is what it takes to run (or live) through pain. 

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