I Know Better
A few weeks ago - one month before the Boston Marathon - I decided to do my 40-minute easy run on a trail. Spontaneous decision, a new and very wet trail, lots on my mind. I know better. The sun was out finally and I ignored the warnings. Puddles, rocks, trainers versus trail shoes, ascents and descents.
This is where it happened. Doesn't look like much. Changed everything.
Running is one of the best ways for me to clear my mind. I had a lot to think about. Here's the fuller truth: I wasn't just running. I was dictating a talk out loud I'm giving in a few weeks - phone in hand, moving through unfamiliar terrain, trying to squeeze two things into one hour. Busy founder mode. I preach presence to my clients. I know that being in nature is one of the greatest mental health tools we have. And I completely ignored my own advice. If I'm running in the woods, run in the woods. Put the phone away. Look around. Breathe. I didn't do any of that.
I was caught in my thoughts - and my words - when I ran through a puddle. My left foot landed on a large rock and turned sharply outward. Expletives flew out of my mouth as I hit the ground. Going down, I knew I had just risked all of my training and hard work with a careless decision.
Then came what my client and friend Erika, cofounder of the Community Mindfulness Project, later helped me name: the second arrow. In Buddhism, the second arrow refers to the self-inflicted suffering we layer on top of unavoidable pain. The first arrow is the fall, the sprain, the injury - painful, but real. The second arrow is what we do to ourselves afterward. The shame. The self-blame. The spiral. It often hurts more and lasts longer than the first.
I am very good at beating myself up. I called my sister in a panic as I limped out of the woods to my car. I couldn't bear to tell my husband quite yet - not after everything he has sacrificed for my long-distance running goals. I couldn't tell my coach because I couldn't face the shame. I called my orthopedic surgeon from the trail and booked an appointment for the next morning. I didn't know if I'd broken something, torn something, or just sprained my ankle - so off to the doctor.
I struggled to walk. Iced and elevated my ankle. Advil.
Damn. I also had a VITAL trip to Costa Rica to surf and do yoga in two days - a trip I planned and had been preparing for with a crew of awesome women.
The next day I saw the doctor. MRI, exam - tears, but no tear. No break. A bad sprain. Stay off it: ice, brace, elevate. And no surfing. Come back when back in town.
At this stage and age in life, a simple sprain is not so simple. So many of us experience random mishaps that can change everything in a second. I am confident that my functional strength training focused on foot + ankle work helped me not break a bone in that fall. It's a small comfort - but it's something.
I'm back home now, and in physical therapy. There's some hope, and some light. I'm feeling more mobile day by day, but I haven't run in 10 days. I'm walking, doing strength rehab, and hoping.
These are not the boots I planned to be wearing this month but here we are - Normatec compression boots, doing their thing. The swelling is down, my circulation up with hope intact.
I have an ever-growing, elusive relationship with the Boston Marathon. Last year I thought I had a sponsored bib that never materialized. This year I qualified - and I may have sacrificed it for a spontaneous run in the woods.
WTF. I'm not going to lie - I am navigating a dark place. And I recognize that this puts me right smack dab in the zone of so many friends, clients, and fellow athletes who have hit a roadblock through injury - and it sucks. You know who you are, and I know. I'm sorry for the disappointment, the pain, the frustration you have endured. I wish for you to heal.
Erika reminded me that the second arrow is optional. Awareness is the first step - recognizing when you are shaming yourself for your feelings. Self-compassion is the practice - treating the initial pain as a guest, not as a failure of character. I'm working on it.
I need to take care, heal, and then honor what my body and the professionals tell me is the path forward. Maybe my work right now is to realize how important it is to have many modalities that bring relief, joy, or peace - so that if we lose one, we can pivot to another. Maybe it's time to recognize how lucky I am to be dealing with a sprain versus something more serious. And maybe - simply - it's to slow down. If I'm in the woods, be in the woods.
Stay tuned.
x Libby x