Running trails can be fraught with peril. Sure there can be the occasional run in with animals both big and small as well as the plethora of nasty’s that fly, creep and bite us in the places where we like to recreate. But the things that can hurt us the most are the rocks, pebbles, baby heads, roots, ruts and wash outs that exist on trails no matter where we run. And the types of injuries these features inflict (sprains, twists, impaction) are the kind that linger; give me a broken bone over any these maladies any day of the week. At least with a break you know where you stand. Six weeks (give or take) and typically you’re back. The alternatives? Without giving away too much of the rest of this article let’s just say that it’s not always that black and white. The irony is that this is the terrain that we crave. As trail runners we shun pavement for the road less traveled, even if that road can sometimes knock us for a loop and knock us off of the trail.
Before I set foot on a Utah trail (t-minus 80 days until I touch down, happy Fourth of July to me) I have two goals:
1. To believe that the 2,400 mile drive will be without incident despite the caravan of two cars, three bikes (no way the movers are touching the family quiver) myself, 1 wife, 1 kid and 1 dog (I’m more concerned about the dog than the kid. Kennebunk is 11 but she believes that she’s 2 and she desperately needs to figure out that she should relax and enjoy her golden years. In the car she insists on standing next to my right shoulder for the entire journey, no matter how long or short, and I wouldn’t be surprised if her legs break off under her during this trip. She’s going to be one of those dogs that lives to be 17, goes blind, loses a leg, but still hops around begging you to throw the ball. I love her.)
2. Hit the trails of our new hometown healthy.
I don’t need to be 100% and in the words of Josh Beckett, “I haven’t been 100% since I was 16.” But since returning to New England from Colorado two years ago, I’ve been a mess. I had always felt bad for those friends of mine who seemed to be fighting some nagging injury, or repeatedly gotten hurt due to bad or dumb luck. Aside from a small bout of patellar tendonitis a long time ago, I’ve always been relatively lucky in the world of injuries. A few rolled ankles here and there, one or two nasty spills on the mountain bike and that was really about it.
Then came a routine nighttime trail run in early October of 2008. I was living near a state park that has a 4-mile, non-technical double track trail around a lake. Perfect for running by headlamp and only a mile or so on the road before getting to the good stuff.
Then disaster. Shortly after turning onto the trail the sole of my shoe locked into a drainage rut and my body kept going. One minute I’m eyeing some lights on the opposite side of the lake, enjoying a perfect New England fall evening and the next I was flying forward landing on my right hand, then my shoulder and finally my back. I lost a fair amount of skin, scratched my iPod and oh, yeah, sprained the posterior tibial tendon in my left ankle.
Remember this Dane Cook bit when he describes watching someone getting hit by a car and then jumping right up off of the ground like nothing had happened? Yeah, that was me right after it happened. I jumped up and immediately tried to walk it off like it was no big deal, eyeing the trail ahead like I may actually run through the pain and ignoring the obvious fact that my ankle was blowing up like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloon.
I finally came to my senses and realized that I needed to head home. The good news was that I wasn’t that deep into the woods and only a few miles from home. The bad news was my ankle was wrecked…and I was still a few miles from home. Let this be a lesson to other solo trail runners out there: carry your cell phone on all solo runs. The trek while short, was not easy to say the least. Each step on my left foot was unsteady and wobbly, as if the joint had lost all stability. There was a sickening squishing sensation with every step. I did my best to ignore this feeling and tried to remain upbeat. “It’s not that bad,” I remember thinking, “you’ll be running again in no time.” I tried not to look at it as I trudged back up the roads towards our house. Each time I did, it seemed that my SmartWool sock was getting closer and closer to its stretching limit. Clarity began to wash over me with each painful step; I wouldn’t be running for a while.
One ER visit, two bouts of physical therapy and 18 months later and I’m still not quite right. I’ve finally accepted the fact that it probably will never be the same again and this past January I started running consistently for the first time since the summer. Feeling pretty good I pushed it to four straight days and promptly injured my knee. An MRI revealed a bone bruise from overuse. Basically I came back too hard and fast. It was at this point that I began to believe that it was time for a change. Previous to these problems I was coming off of a year in Colorado, training harder and longer than ever before, with zero issues. Is New England cursed for me? Are the rocky and rooty trails my running kryptonite? Am I better off at altitude?
In order for me to answer all these questions my goal is to land in Utah as healthy as possible, ready to take it all on. Over the past few weeks I’ve been cleared to run and I’ve been building my endurance back up. My focus on the trail has never been more pointed, as I attempt to not reinjure my balky ankle or pound too hard on the knee. In my dreams I make it to SLC, start running, and find myself rounding into form as I explore my new home. Above all else I now know how much running means to my life. Life without running is something I never again want to experience. More than any other sport running keeps me grounded. If I need to work through my noisy head, nothing helps like a vigorous run in the woods. I try to remember all of this with each foot placement on uneven ground so I can get and stay healthy…with Utah on the horizon.
Does any of this sound familiar? Do you have an injury story to share? What does running offer you that nothing else quite does? Email me at colin@utahoutside.com and tell me about it. The best story will be featured in one of my future articles. Keep burning those trails, people.
Here’s the Dane Cook bit I was talking about. No matter your opinion on him this bit is hilarious.