I liked running a lot better when I wasn’t constantly thinking about what my glute or hamstring was doing. Those carefree days of simply pulling on a pair of sneakers and heading out the door for a run?
Definitely in my rearview mirror.
But I am not one to dwell on the personal bests of days gone by. I am focused on the present and ensuring I make the best decisions today for my future running self.
Returning to running after injury
I’ve had a good few weeks of running or trotting (as I call it these days). I quickly learned that I cannot run back-to-back because it aggravates my glute muscles too much. Now I run every other day, and walk every day. Although I find walking extremely boring (even when listening to a podcast), I am getting those steps in and time on feet.
Strength and mobility are my main priorities. I can’t take anything for granted because my body reminds me every time I step outside for a run.
I can already feel a difference in my core strength and mobility since I heightened my focus on these often neglected areas. Consistency wins all the time!
I have had two major injuries (broken ankle, broken ass) over the last three years. Does that make me injury prone? I think I just have bad luck.
How was your summer? Are you looking forward to winter running? I would love to hear from you in the comments below.
Running after an injury is a delicate balance between looking back and moving forward—a journey where rearview glances remind you of fragility, while forward strides symbolize resilience. The initial steps are often hesitant, each footfall a negotiation between fear and determination, as the body relearns trust in itself. The past lingers in the form of aches, scars, or memories of setbacks, serving as both cautionary tales and proof of survival. Yet, the act of running becomes a reclaiming of strength, a defiance against limitations. Every mile is a dialogue between what was lost and what can be regained, a testament to the body’s capacity to heal and adapt. Progress is measured not just in distance but in confidence, as the runner learns to listen to their body’s whispers rather than its warnings. The injury, once a barrier, transforms into a teacher, instilling patience, humility, and a deeper appreciation for movement. Forward strides, though slower or more deliberate, carry the weight of triumph, proving that recovery is not just about returning to where you were but evolving into someone stronger, wiser, and more attuned to the rhythm of perseverance