When you’re trying to do something big, you’re always going to be faced with some resistance. This is a situation I have found myself in many times, too many to mention or even to remember, but I’ll have a go at summarising some of the more memorable ones in this post. I always view resistance as a challenge to make me stronger. It’s an opportunity to develop physically, mentally, and emotionally, to become a stronger and more dedicated person. You develop scar tissue and calluses to the situations and on the other side of it, you’re more determined and focused to achieve your dreams.
In my years as a road runner, I faced a lot of resistance in the form of injury. There are three main incidents that stand out, all of which involved broken bones. Stress fractures were something that plagued me in my days as a road runner. I was always trying to achieve the sub 2 hr 30 mins marathon, the sub 30 mins 10 km, and the sub 70 mins half marathon. I pushed myself to the limit every time I was out on the road or on the track. To compound this, I was up early to fit training in before work, I’d then be on my feet all day at work, not feed myself well enough, and then head out again for another run, and sometimes even a tough session, in the afternoon. It was like I was on the go, burning energy and not giving my body time to recover for 12-14 hours a day. This is fine for ultra marathons and running long distances, but the minute you add intensity into the mix, you’re going to get problems, as I found. My training at this time included 3 key sessions per week. One would usually be on the track and the other 2 on the road. I’d be running close to or faster than 5:00/mile and this takes a huge toll on your body. My first stress fracture happened on my last long run before I tapered for my first marathon, the Dublin marathon in 2010. Training had been going great, I’d been pushing myself and increasing the distance of my long run. I was out on a 25 mile run to round off my training and start a 2-week taper towards the race. But at around 17 miles I felt something in my left knee. A sharp pain. Not enough to stop me running, but a niggle that was getting progressively worse the more I ran. So I decided to end the run early, content with 22 miles in the bag. The taper would sort things out and give me chance to heal. Or so I thought. The pain remained throughout the taper. It didn’t get much worse and it didn’t stop me from doing anything, but it was there, niggling throughout my runs, and serving as a constant reminder that things weren’t great throughout my working day. Then came the day of the marathon. A cold autumn morning in October. I lined up with thousands of other runners ready to tackle the Dublin Marathon 2010. I could feel the tightness on the outside of my left knee, but I’d been training for this for months and there was no way I was going to let the opportunity to run my first marathon slip through my hands. As the race went on, the tightness got worse, the pain got more intense. Every step was painful, when my left foot hit the ground for each stride, a sharp pain would pulse through the outside of my left knee. I knew it was going to be bad if I stopped, so I just kept going. Through sheer determination and strong mindedness, I got through to the end in a respectable time of 2 hrs 39 mins. Perfect, I’d achieved my goal, which was to run sub 2 hrs 45 mins to be able to qualify for the Championship race at the London Marathon the following year. But then, when I stopped and made my way to the bag collection, the pain got worse and the outside of my knee got tighter and tighter. I managed to slowly walk the 400 m from the finish line to pick up my bag and put some warm clothes on. I knew something was wrong so I headed straight to the sports therapy on offer in a tent next to the bag collection. I lay on a treatment couch while the kind volunteer massaged the outside of my thigh, applied some freeze gel, and tried to work out what was wrong. No clear answer, but I knew that something wasn’t right. I gingerly got off the couch and put my weight on my right leg to avoid the pain that had now become excruciating in my left knee. I took a step forwards and the pain shot through my whole body. Now I had a problem. My parents were running too and they were planning on coming in at around the 4 hour mark. So now I had around 45 minutes to get myself to the finish to catch them so they could help me walk the mile back to the hotel. I was nowhere near capable of managing that on my own. That 400 m walk was nowhere near as simple as it should have been. I wasn’t able to walk. I managed to get to the side of the road and onto the footpath in front of a row of terraced houses where there were railings. I used these to support my weight, like some fixed and immovable crutch, and hobbled my way to the finish line. It took me well over 2 hours to make it that far. The pain wouldn’t go away and with every step it became less and less possible to put weight through my left leg. By the time I reached the finish I wasn’t able to stand, let alone walk. I looked at the finishing timer, it was over 5 hours and I knew my parents were well finished and on their way back to the hotel by now. How was I going to get back? It seemed that my only option was to crawl back and maybe they’d come looking for me when they realised I wasn’t back yet. I didn’t even have a mobile phone on me so I couldn’t call and let them know what was happening. So, I started towards the hotel, half crawling and half walking using walls and railings and lampposts for support. Not long into the walk I came across 2 spectators walking in the opposite direction to me. I’m not usually one for stopping strangers in the street, especially in a different city, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I stopped them and asked if I could borrow a mobile phone to call my dad. They obliged, I remembered my dad’s mobile number, and help was on its way. I sat on the doorstep of a Dublin city house while I waited for my mum and dad to come and rescue me. They had both just run a marathon and I’m sure they were tired, but they managed to help me hobble back to the hotel. The weeks and months after that were something else. I found out that I had a stress fracture in the head of my left fibula. No wonder it was painful to put weight on it. But, I didn’t see this as a chance to rest. I needed to keep fit as the plan was still at large to run in the London Marathon the following April. I had 7 months. So, I started cycling. I’d be in the gym early every morning before work, cycling for an hour. To keep it fresh, I moved between 6 bikes, cycling for 10 minutes on each, just to help the time go quicker. The recovery from that injury wasn’t easy, and being on my feet all day at work didn’t help, but I got through it, got back to running after around 3 months of cycling, and got myself fit enough to run a 2 hrs 37 mins PB in London on only 6 weeks of training. That made me think, image what I could do with a consistent block of training under my belt. The challenge was on and the next marathon was in my sights. But, as the saying goes, man plans and God laughs. No less than 12 months after that first injury lay-off, another stress fracture hit me. This time, in my right heel. A crack right through the big bone that forms your heel, the calcaneus. This one was caused by starting training on the track, running fast on bends, and pushing myself hard 3 times per week with a group of runners with more experience and faster speed than me. Great for training, but maybe I threw myself in at the deep end and didn’t give myself much time to adapt. I was desperate to improve so I don’t think any amount of advice would have stopped me from doing what I did, and given the time again, I would probably do the same. It was those long days on my feet at work, being active for long periods of the day with minimal rest and poor nutrition. This led to a long lay off, another 3 months without running. I managed to get hold of a road bike this time and starting putting in some big mileage on the bike to satisfy my need for endurance. The third injury was the biggest by far. Yes, you’ve guessed it, another stress fracture. After a good 2 years of training injury free, I improved massively. I was even selected to represent Wales in a 10 km road race, where I ran an impressive 30:08 on what turned out to be a course 150 m short of actually being 10 km. This time has since been erased from history, but I’m still proud of my performance that day. It was 2015 and I was training and racing consistently. In 2014 I’d run more races than ever before and was performing well and improving throughout. I’d run two marathons in 2014 and 2015 was going to be a big year for me. I was planning on breaking the magic 2 hrs 30 mins barrier that had eluded me so far, with 2 hrs 31 mins being my personal best. I remember feeling a muscular tightness in my right hip after a 10 km race early in the year, but it didn’t stop me training and I was keen to progress and improve. Then, when I was tapering for a half marathon 1 week away, I set out for a 10 km tempo run at a local favourite spot of mine that’s quiet, and traffic free meaning I can run on the road, a nice flat surface. I remember taking a stride to step up onto the pavement and feeling a sharp pain in my right shin. I ran for a couple more steps and the pain remained and my leg started to feel weak. I decided to call it a day and end the session there. I’d run 5 km and was happy that I’d be in good shape for the Reading half marathon the following weekend. But I woke the following morning and the pain was still there. A couple more days passed and I still wasn’t able to run. I made the sensible decision and decided to pull out of the race. Weeks passed and I still wasn’t able to run properly. I attended the local fracture clinic and had an x-ray which showed no signs of fracture or injury. So, knowing there was nothing wrong, I decided to push through the pain and make myself stronger to overcome this little setback. The pain didn’t get any better. I kept running and trying, but wasn’t getting anywhere. I then had an MRI scan and it was obvious what was wrong. I had run 8 miles the morning of the scan so I wasn’t expecting any severe. But when I got the news in the following days I was shocked. There was a crack right through my right tibia, towards the top near my knee. The orthopaedic consultant who reviewed the scan told me not to put any weight on it and go to fracture clinic the following day to be put into a cast. They were treating this as a full blown fracture, all from running. I couldn’t believe it, my world crumbled. When I saw the MRI images I was amazed - severe bone swelling and a clear crack through my shin bone. I couldn’t believe I had been running on this for the last 3 months and it hadn’t given way. I would have been in real trouble if it had. So, 9 weeks in a cast, non weight bearing. The follow-up scan showed no change in the fracture. The swelling in the bone had gone, but the fracture was there, plane as before. There were talks of surgery to insert a metal rod into the cavity in my tibia so that it would have the strength to support my weight again. But, not yet, there were other things to try first. So, we went for 3 months in a weight bearing cast to try and put some weight through the fracture site to try and encourage it to heal. This went better and there were signs of improvement. Another 2 months in a removable weight bearing cast followed. This was a painful time. While I was wearing the permanent cast, I tried cycling, but I ruined the cast in 1 week and had to have it replaced. I was kindly informed by the nurses that they couldn’t do this every week so I had to dial it down. Upper body weights only. When I came out of the cast, my leg was so weak, that in order to get my cardiovascular hit, I took up one legged cycling. To make it even harder I wore a mask that replicated cycling at altitude. I needed to get my fix. I took up swimming in the early mornings. I would rise at 4:00 am, do an hour on the turbo at altitude, swim for 40 minutes at the local pool, and then do some weights when arriving at work, all before starting work at 8:30 am. The afternoons would be a long bike ride indoors, or rowing, with some upper body weights. I was getting my fix, but it wasn’t quite running. After a year of trying to get fit, trying to run again and injuring myself in another way, I finally got myself back to being able to run consistently. It took a couple of years of training to return to my previous level, but my perseverance and determination got me there in the end. I’ve run better since the injuries, and I’m now able to push myself even further as my mental toughness and resilience has amassed incredible strength. And to top everything off, during the third injury bout, I met my wife, which is the best silver lining any cloud could have. And to think, if I had ignored the nurses and carried on cycling and ruining my cast, that never would have happened.
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