I’m always processing. While I mostly tend to do this verbally, I’ve discovered writing is another medium to do so. Since I’ve catalogued many aspects of my BQ journey here on this site, I might as well open up about my race week neuroses as well.
My leg injury has not improved at all. I rested and iced it well over the weekend. Monday afternoon, I volunteered to chaperone Kaelyn’s running club at school, figuring it would be a good opportunity to test it out. I started well, but just half a mile in, I felt emerging tightness and discomfort. Even though the pain increased, I continued on since I was supervising the children. It’s no fluke: this injury just isn't going away quickly.
At first, I was thinking it was an achilles, as I’ve had issues with it before in this leg. But yesterday I pinpointed it a little higher on the leg—the soleus muscle—which ties the achilles to the calf muscles. Of course, there’ s no easy fix for it. Time is usually the best medicine, but I have a mere five days to go until the marathon.
It’s demoralizing because I haven’t had a significant running injury in a few years. I’ve learned not to increase my mileage too dramatically and adopted a consistent posture and that’s kept me relatively free from injury. And my fitness is as high as it’s ever been; if I had run the marathon just three weeks ago, I probably could have BQ’d with time to spare. Now, I’m trying to keep from being depressed while contemplating race strategies.
I’m not convinced that, even if I take a few Advil and use some heat ointment, that I could perform optimally at 26.2 miles on a less-than-optimal leg; I won’t really know until I start the race, and would have to readjust my goal on the course. If I can’t reach the BQ time, I’d still like to finish; I’ve never DNF’d a race so that’s looming in the back of my mind. But whereas years ago my goal was merely to finish marathons, it’s now all about peak performance. I could still take a shot at a BQ this fall in Indianapolis but, if I further injure myself on Sunday trying to finish the race, this goal could evaporate for another year.
I’m not right in the head, hence writing an entire post about it.
As I think about this injury, I get both extremely sad and angry. I continually start to utter the phrase, “this isn’t fair . . .” but I cut myself off in mid-sentence. One of the blessings of a career teaching people how to function in a universe that God created is that I know that “fair” is a deceptive concept; seeing wonderful people die far too early reminds me that this fallen world lacks the eternal perfection we’re longing to experience. This knowledge is countered by one of the curses of being a theologian: when you actually have to live out what you teach.
While preaching this past Sunday, I highlighted a often forgotten phrase written by the apostle Paul in Philippians 1:18: “But what does it matter?” In the scheme of things, we take things in life that lack an eternal resonance far too seriously. This isn’t to say we can’t be frustrated at the little inconveniences of life. I mean, getting a leg injury just days before a race absolutely sucks. But then again, I also shouldn’t get too worked up about it. Some things are just outside of my control. There’s not anything I can imagine I could have done differently here (it’s why I’m an emotional head case right now). So I just need to keep a good perspective with this.
It’s yet another opportunity to see if I can actually live out the faith that I tell people I have.
Again, I didn't need to post this, but I felt compelled to do so. On Sunday afternoon, when the marathon is over, maybe these words will help me. Or maybe in a year from now, this post will remind me how my feelings in this moment were unnecessary. I have no idea.
I’ll be patient. I’ll keep the faith. And I’ll trust it will all work out.