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Baseball Hall of Famer, World War II veteran and cultural icon Yogi Berra once said: "Baseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical."
I have been thinking a lot about his words these last few weeks as I trained for my lone race in what has been a virtually lost year of running.
I usually run 10-12 races per year and I was excited for 2018. Coming off a strong finish to last year, I had plans to run each of the New York Road Runners' Five-Borough Series races -- something I haven't been able to do in three years. I was also looking forward to running a pair of marathons, including my first international one, and a few 10Ks and half marathons. 2018 was going to be a big year.
Until it wasn't.
I woke up one day in early January with pain on the inside of my left knee, a hinge that had already been home to two surgeries. I was forced to pause my training, which led to canceled race registrations and the accompanying disappointment. The rest did not help nor did a variety of treatments.
X-rays were negative, however. Ditto the MRI. With the knowledge that there was nothing structurally wrong with my knee, I decided I would run through the pain and go back to training. Two weeks later, in July, I tore the meniscus in the knee for the third time. It was unrelated to the mystery pain, but that didn't make me feel any better. Surgery was required, followed by more than two months of rehabilitation.
I'd seen this movie before.
In 2016, I had surgery to reconstruct the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) in my left knee. Six months of rehab followed. Thanks to three amazing physical therapists, all went extremely well. And thanks to my fantastic surgeon, the new ACL is rock solid.
I completed my comeback marathon on Martha's Vineyard in May and followed it up with more races, including my first Ragnar, a half marathon in Izmir, Turkey, and the NYC Marathon in November. I was feeling pretty great.
I love running. Well, I love races and the training that goes with them more than I do your average daily run for running's sake. The challenge to get better drives me. To push myself a bit more each time. And, yes, the fear of failure is also a great motivator. But, for me, running is even more. It does wonders for my mental health. I need it to maintain a healthy balance in my life.
Not being able to run for almost 10 months has been more a mental struggle than a physical one. Surgery was a success and my rehab has gone well. My knee is fine. And yet ... I'm struggling. The mental part of my running, which dominates a runner's confidence more than his or her body, is way off right now.
Physically, not running for almost a year means that I am essentially starting over from a mileage, stamina and training standpoint. It means the gains from 2017 are all but gone. Muscle memory being what it is, my body will get back to normal eventually, but right now my stride is off and my form is a mess.
Mentally, it's even worse. I think about what it takes to run a marathon and wonder if I'll ever be able to get back to that place. I seems far from a possibility right now. I worry that I may never fix my stride as I oscillate from feeling in sync to this:
Doubt creeps in on every run. I can feel myself putting more weight and impact on my right side. A subconscious compensation for years of injuries.
Why am I not running at my usual pace? Why is my breathing inconsistent? Why doesn't this feel as good as it usually does? Why am I asking myself all these questions?
The best runs are the ones where your mind is clear and you're just out there doing your thing. Instincts take over. Your training guides you. Right now, all I'm doing is thinking. Normally, I enjoy that part of my brain. Not now.
After completing a 5K last weekend, I started building my training plan for the NYC Half Marathon next March. And now I'm looking for other races to sign up for so that I can get back in the swing of things. The training and repetition will help. But for now, that 90% is winning.
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