The day when my training for the race came to a complete halt stands out quite clearly in my mind. A powerful storm the night before had brought down a large tree leaving a thick trunk and mass of broken branches completely blocking the road. The route past the tree and back was an important four mile segment of my running course, so the initial impulse was just to climb over it or find a way through the fields at the side. However, the tree had also brought down the power lines and the fields on either side were completely waterlogged. The only thing to do was just to turn back and reassess the situation. It’s never easy to do that when the training is at full-pelt and you are on a roll, yet for some reason for me these things always crop up in the month or so before a big event.
The Twenty-First Annual Sri Chinmoy Ten-Day Race that April was to be my third multi-day race. I’m far from being a fully fledged ultra-runner but do enjoy these races and find them a rich source of life changing experiences despite the inevitable hardships. I was certainly very keen to make sure I could participate again.
Over the course of the previous five or six months I’d managed to do 60 to 70 miles per week of mainly walking training and pushed that to 100 for the previous two weeks (for the early races I started with a lot of walking training but now more running) Everything seemed to be going according to schedule but unbeknown to me that was to be the last proper training session. Looking back I now see that the tree across the road exactly mirrored my physical situation. The following morning I accidentally banged my foot against the leg of a chair. It was certainly a little painful for a few minutes but I didn’t pay too much attention until the following day when even a short walk outside was extremely awkward.
The injury coincided exactly with a planned two day break in my training so initially I was not too concerned. I had planned to do slightly less in the last month before the race anyway. The tendency I noted with a lot of people was to do huge mileage in the final weeks before the race and then end up physically exhausted when the race actually began. If the training has been going well then this is understandable as you feel strong and still have time before the event. You are also very used to the routine and the feeling of well-being you are getting from the training which inevitably wears off very quickly if you stop. I was also going to be abroad, which would completely disrupt about 10 training days, so wanted to make sure the bulk of the work had been completed before leaving. Perhaps it was a similar scenario to the busy executive who gets ill on the first day of the holidays. On some level he or she has managed to keep the lid on a mass of issues that might have deeper health implications if ignored. Suddenly free of responsibilities, a host of matters are able to make themselves known, triggering some kind of health crisis. I wondered if my body and unconscious mind had already decided to force an unexpected diversion for some reason.
Also looking back at my training diary I noticed that the main issue on the previous training day had been a sore knee. It had actually been bad enough to force me not to do my evening one hour session. In fact it might have been the knee that forced me to walk strangely and bang into the chair, after all most of the time we seem to be quite good at managing to avoid kicking our furniture! Also perhaps on a more subtle level the toe injury was stopping me from injuring the knee any further by just putting an end to all activities. Certainly the urge was to press onwards with the training and bag some more 100 mile weeks. Coming back to the tree, that would have been tantamount to risking injury climbing over the tree and live power lines rather than stepping back and taking stock of the situation.
The toe problem led to being unable to run for three weeks, managing at best to walk around slowly with the foot out at a slight angle. Each day I hoped it would get better so in the end I never had it checked out for a possible break or hair-line fracture but I think it was quite probable given the amount of time it was taking to heal. In fact after three weeks it felt no different and the race was just over two weeks away. It finally started to dawn on me that I might not be able to do the race at all. A battle ensued at this stage between a fairly logical and rational part of myself that felt it was unlikely things would heal up in time and another part that couldn’t possibly imagine not doing the race.
Despite the challenges that I knew I would face I had been looking forward to it and it had been one of the main focuses of the previous six months. I’m often quite surprised by the intensity of the urge to take part in these events. Once the race starts of course you can’t quite believe your enthusiasm and vow to be a bit more careful before signing up for others in future, but beforehand it is always a different matter. The applications for this one come out each year in early December but it would often fill up well before the deadline. Out of fear of not being included I would find myself phoning and emailing just to double-check my application had been received.
Anyway the day of the race was fast approaching and soon I’d need to make a decision. I was flying out out to New York about 10 days early to attend the annual Sri Chinmoy celebrations in Queens and if not staying on to do the race then was going to have to make changes to my return flight fairly quickly. There was also the question of whether or not to lug the 15kg of race gear with me or not. Looking back these were not huge decisions to make but at the time there was a part of me that refused to acknowledge I couldn’t do the race. The only thing to do was at least to get out for a run and I managed to cover 10 miles without too much pain in the foot. The main problem was actually the knee but I rather dismissed thats since I was so focused on what was happening with the toe.
While I was in New York the knee became very sore and I more or less forgot about the toe. After sitting for a short time it would seize up and hurt when I straightened the leg. I was walking with a slight limp, hadn’t trained for over a month and had just over a week until the start of the race. I spoke to many ultra running friends who were all very supportive and looking back not one of them advocated dropping out of the race, even doctors. Everyone has their own unique idea about a cure that they swear by, presumably because it has worked for them. This tends to get worked up into a universal cure that will work for everyone with the same problem. I collected a fascinating array of these tips ranging from taking turmeric with hot milk before bed or rubbing the knee with the sap of a certain plant that was growing in the nearby park, to recommendations for certain chiropractors or masseurs that they had seen and were sure would be the answer.
Nothing made the slightest bit of difference. In the end I went to see an Indian Ayurvedic practitioner who had been highly recommended by a lot of friends of mine. I was in his presence for less then ten minutes during which time he felt my pulse for about a minute on each wrist. He gave me a couple of herbal anti-inflammatories and told me I would be fine to run again and that the pain would disappear after two or three days. I realised that the only possible way out would be to choose one ‘cure’ and just try and put all my focus on that. I felt comfortable with this man and also liked the fact he had no hesitation in telling me that I would be able to run again soon!
After three days the problems were still there. I was limping along and still couldn’t imagine not doing the race. The prospect of pulling out gave rise to a curious feeling, rather like a child who is not allowed out for some reason but can hear his friends playing and having a great time outside. It was almost a feeling of imprisonment.
Perhaps what was making me unsure about pulling out was the nagging feeling that it might all be a significant part of the race and the training. Perhaps this wasn’t a step backwards but rather on some level a step forwards on the journey. Over the years, doing these kinds of ultra events, I’d started to notice how the body would often come up with clever ways of trying to communicate important information to the mind. Just as everything seemed to be at its best and the training was going well, you would suddenly find an issue cropping up that stopped you dead in your tracks. Outwardly this might seem like an annoying random injury but on a deeper level there were some important changes to be made that would help you with the upcoming event more than following the usual well-grooved training schedule. Sometimes I think it can be key health issues, as if the normal link between your body and mind is not working properly and you are not heeding the normal warnings. Some kind of health crisis in the form of the injury forces you to address the issue. It can be simple changes to the running gait or not drinking enough fresh water to perhaps more serious issues with the stomach and vital organs or perhaps entrenched thought patterns that are blocking the energy and may cause problems if you don’t try and address them.
People often feel that they are back to square one or are doomed when they get these kinds of injuries but often they can be a sign that they are really getting somewhere with the training and are at the point where they really need to try and push through somehow. Perhaps the mind and body have been trying to give you a message about something but not managing to communicate it to you. This constellation of the upcoming event and the endlessly repeated physical movements geared towards it has the mind very focused and is a perfect arena for a message to be transmitted and perhaps heeded. It’s not the way we want to be informed but it may be the only final avenue left.
Race day was looming for me in three or four days so it was really long past when I should have decided whether I was in or not. One evening as I lay down pondering the situation I noticed that the knee was sore even though I wasn’t moving it at all, which was not usually the case. Generally it would hurt when standing up from sitting or walking. This was more like a pinprick or acute stabbing pain. One small part of me thought if I wasn’t doing the race then I could change my flight and in two days could be back where there was a warm bed and normal routine, rather than slogging around a one mile loop with a couple of hours sleep, lying in a cold tent. The other part as I’ve mentioned was desperate to be out doing it. It was at that moment that I had a strong and slightly unnerving feeling that the knee pain was pure fear of doing the race, fear somehow making itself known in my knee.
In some ways it was a relief, as if I had been granted a reprieve but one that that was coming with responsibilities. If somehow I had ‘thought’ this injury into existence, then presumably I could slowly work back the way and ‘unthink’ it. Over the next two days I managed two very short runs and although the knee was sore I found if I shifted my weight and landed differently then there was no pain. Perhaps I was starting to learn the lessons of the injury. Also the fact that the whole thing had started with the toe, and then one day had suddenly completely shifted to the knee, implied that it could be something deeper and non-physical that was underlying both injuries. The only solution would be to go and start the race and see what happened in the first 24 hours. I really just had to take the bull by the horns as there was not that much change outwardly and when I thought about it rationally the idea of doing the race was ridiculous.
Eventually I found myself at the starting line and although the first day was the toughest of all I managed to finish the race and increase my mileage from the previous year. The knee swelled up quite a bit and seized up as soon as I stopped moving but after two or three days it was very much under control and eventually the pains disappeared completely. I never heard anything more from the toe. I think the Ayurvedic practitioner must have been referring to the actual race when had told me that after 2 or 3 days the pain would disappear!
The story of the race is for another day but since this kind of thing seems to happen quite often to people in the build up to events, I decided to share a few hastily thought out ideas. I certainly don’t want to imply that all our injuries are things we have brought upon ourselves or that they are all mental in some way. We need to be be very careful of course, with any kind of injury, not to exacerbate it by training through it. Also this is not to suggest at all that we should dismiss established medical knowledge and practice. Rather, where no harm can be caused, I think it is a worthwhile exercise just to stand back and allow oneself to take a deeper look at the significance of what is happening. This can take place in conjunction with the traditional and perhaps more scientifically proven approaches.
I don’t think the fallen tree had any causal connection with events in my life, but perhaps taking a closer look around you at your circumstances can help elucidate more inner and personal issues. Like the arrangement of tea leaves at the bottom of the cup, perhaps these random patterns help trigger the unconscious mind to find solutions to real things. In the Iliad, during the raging battle between the Trojans and Greeks, soothsayers often looked to the patterns in the flight of birds to gain insight into the prevailing situation. Our complicated tweny-first century minds might struggle to see any connection but if looking around at things in our surroundings can trigger our imagination and help give us some insight into the challenges we are facing then that is maybe not to be dismissed.
Of course one of the big questions that always arises in connection with these longer events is why on earth one does them at all. Funnily enough you are usually quite content oneself as to the reasons but it’s a struggle to justify it to others. In my case, and I think this applies to many, clearly we are nowhere near the top runners or setting any kinds of records, yet there is this overwhelming compelling urge to take part. I also have no particular interest in it and it’s not the kind of sport that I would want to follow (if indeed it’s that kind of a sport at all). I wonder if the event maybe the backdrop to bigger issues that we are facing. It’s nothing to do with the mileage or winning, but overcoming some inner matter. This may be quite unconscious to start with but it seems likely that it might start to surface and make itself more apparent as the race draws nearer.
It’s often said that our current circumstances are the perfect ones for us to make progress. Looking back, although I was oblivious to it at the time, the tree perfectly reflected my inner situation. Perhaps there are other things out there that might help if we look hard enough. The combination of the knee and toe injury was the perfect vehicle for propelling me onwards with the race preparation, teaching me precisely what I needed to change. Although a major stumbling block at the time I don’t think I would have been able to finish the race had it not been for the injuries.