Running, What Do I Want From You?

A Blank Sheet And No Pen

Let’s Not Speak About Injuries

I haven't written about my meniscus injury in a while. There are three reasons for that.

First, it is important to me that the Das Z Letter doesn't degenerate into some kind of medical report. Injuries are part of running, and I know there is a lot of interest in discussing them. However, I am afraid that if this topic is addressed in too much depth, the focus will shift from (great) running to (annoying) injuries. From the good to the bad, so to speak. In the end, we always hope that injuries are temporary. Running, on the other hand, is forever.

Second, it's difficult to say where I currently stand with my injury. As you can see on Strava, my running attempts have increased, but it is still very much a trial and error thing. And it's challenging to draw conclusions.

Running itself feels good, although entirely different from before. All the strength training for my legs is kicking in. I seem to be running more on my forefoot now, and the whole stride has changed. Other muscles are being used and overall, it still feels rather clumsy. And many times I run out of breath.

But the excitement always only starts after the run when my knee gives its verdict. Unfortunately, it gets irritated actually every time. Sometimes more, sometimes less. At worst for 1–2 days. We're not talking about visible swelling or real pain here, but I can feel a clear difference when I spare my knee with my running attempts. The irritation itself feels mechanical. Like a torn piece rubbing against the inside of my knee causing an inflammation. That just about matches the MRI results I got months ago.

I can clearly say that my situation is much better than it was a few weeks ago. I mean, hey, I can run again. On the other hand, I can feel just as clearly that something is still wrong with my knee.

Like I said: I have no idea where I stand right now. I once called this situation the "Liminality of Being Injured".

[+] The Liminality of Being Injured

The third reason I haven't shared too many details about my injury is that I simply don't know yet what my new running life can, should, or will look like.

I would like to explore this in more detail here.

Where to Now?

I would describe myself as a very reflective person. However, when it comes to running, I often find it difficult to identify what I'm really about.

Fortunately, the truth of all truths is always and reliably at the center: I want to run. And this is for the sake of running. It's like my anchor point, my home port, my sanctuary to which I can always return when I'm in danger of getting lost.

But there is also the realization. The daily practice. The short-term plan. The medium-term plan. The long-term plan. The goals, the dreams, the hopes, and desires. All of these can also be anchor points, guiding me and showing me a direction. But right now, I have absolutely no idea what that should look like.

A Blank Slate

The last few years have been easy. Preparing for a big race like Western States or the stubborn goal of running a sub-3 hour marathon took care of everything. I always knew what to do every day and every run. Even when I got injured last year, the goal for my comeback was clear: to get back in shape to continue marathon training.

The previous goals for this year, such as a Western States lottery qualifier or a comeback at Sierre-Zinal were also such tangible anchors.

All gone.

Right now, I'm completely empty. A blank slate.

The glass-half-full part of me says:

"This is great! Everything is open to me. I am the author of my own future.”

But the rest of me says:

"I can't find a pen."

Something deep inside me tells me that this time it's not about “the next race” or “the next training block”. It's about more. It's about a fundamental reshaping of my running. A new beginning worthy of the name.

Majority Vote

Currently, though, it feels too big to grasp. And even if it would be nice, I can't really decide for myself. My body has something to say about it. As in the past, it will show me clear boundaries. My knee in particular will have to give its blessing to everything I do. Or not.

So, strictly speaking, I am not completely free to decide what my next running life should look like. I'm not uncomfortable with that, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Ultimately...

They say you learn a lot about yourself when you're injured. They also say that you come back stronger. One is probably related to the other.

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Everything Not Running

My injury is taking a lot of my energy. It was easier before I started running again. I enjoyed my involuntary break from running and threw myself wholeheartedly into cycling. The ability to run again makes me think about my situation all the time. Even though I'm happy about this progress, the new reality still demands a lot from me.

My wife Lisa and I always talk about the "jar" of life energy.

Everyone has only one jar from which they can draw energy for everything they do. And literally everything costs energy. Running costs energy, writing costs energy, thinking costs energy, working costs energy, meeting friends costs energy, even doing nothing costs energy. All from that one jar, and when it's empty, it's empty.

Fortunately, all of these things also refill the jar. Yes, it's a paradox, but the very things that cost us energy also magically give it back. Not always immediately, not always in the same amount as we used it, but the energy comes back in due time.

The trick is to know your jar well. To always know exactly how much you have in it and to live your life on that basis.

Of course, this clashes spectacularly with a world that expects us to always function at the push of a button. Always deliver when someone wants something from us. Always be available. Always alert, always smart, always friendly, always strong. While everyone is pulling on us, we actually need our jar first and foremost for ourselves.

I am happy that I can talk openly with Lisa about our jars.

"Would you like to go biking this weekend?"

“Yes, I'd love to, but I'd like to keep some energy in my jar because I have some reading to do.”

Or:

"Can you cook for us today? My jar is pretty empty right now."

You get the idea.

It would be nice if the life energy jar approach became widespread. From getting out of work early, to canceling the family reunion, to racing UTMB:

"Sorry, I can't, my jar just isn't that full..."