Picture this: It’s a beautiful morning, the birds are singing, the sun is shining through so it looks like the heavens are parting, no one is walking slowly to class, and I’m ready to have a perfect day. Life is going great, I’d just ran a half marathon the night before and was still on that high, excited to crush my PR next week, not to mention Spring Break was just around the corner. Everything is going well until I step down to cross the street, and there it is, a sharp pain in my leg, the one thing you never want to feel as a runner.
I spent the next few days in a mixed state of anger, confusion, and honestly, downright sadness. After all, how could I have let this happen? Was it my stretching routine? Had I packed on the miles too quickly? Or too few rest days? Either way, I was the only one to blame for my current situation. For the next two weeks I’d have to grapple with the hole running had left in my life.
I’m not someone who likes to dawdle about an issue, when I have a problem I will do my best to solve it, and so my journey with my brain-and my body–began. Running has been a form of meditation for me, hours spent with only yourself and a good playlist left nothing but time to work things out in your brain, it was my favorite part of my day– how would I replace it? After some much needed rest, I experimented with a variety of activities: walking–which was a no-brainer, weight lifting (which I realized I seriously dislike–but that’s a whole other topic, I applaud everyone who enjoys this), and the elliptical machine–which despite it’s funny appearance is one of the best tools for cross-training. On the less physically demanding side, I focused more time into my drawing skills,which while it wasn’t the same as completing a run, it was good to be working towards improving something.
Some days were easier than others. Other days, I’d catch myself being incredibly harsh—frustrated at my body, annoyed at how long healing was taking, and disappointed that I wasn’t doing “enough.” And that’s when I started to think: If one of my friends was going through the same thing, I would never say the things I was telling myself, rather I’d be telling them to rest, be patient, and kind to themselves. So why didn’t I offer myself the same compassion?
I like to think of it this way–no one wants to spend time with someone critical, mean, and unrealistic–so why do that to yourself? After all, we spend all of our time with ourselves. I had to learn (and I’m still learning) day by day, to be a better friend to myself. Instead of beating myself up about how I let this happen, I remind myself that yes, it’s a problem, but I’m doing my best to solve it. It’s something we hear all the time: be kind to yourself. Be patient. You’re a work in progress. And yeah, it’s easy to brush off those phrases as cliché or just a cringey phrase on a poster. But, they’re true, and I think we need to hear them more often, especially when we’re hurting.
I’m back to running now—slowly, carefully, and with a lot more gratitude (scheduled rest days–even when I don’t want to). And I’m applying that same patience and kindness to other parts of my life too—academics, relationships, even just how I talk to myself in my head. I wanted to end this with some profound, all-inspiring quote, but honestly? I think you’ve had enough self-love content for one day. I know I have. The most important lesson is this: you don’t need to have everything figured out to be proud of where you are. Just take the next step—gently.