The Will to Run
It’s not every day that one gains something so overwhelming that it compels one to write about it even if it risks re-living painful memories.
This story is one of loss, miraculous recovery, and hope, and I wish it helps people who are going through their own personal struggle.
“How I wish you could have known me in my strength.”
― Marilynne Robinson, Gilead
I loved riding motorcycles. Racing down the road is a heady feeling. The sense of freedom and exhilaration one feels when moving faster than everyone around you. The breeze flowing through your hair. The roar of the engine, the smell of fresh-cut grass. The thought of being young with the whole world ahead of you.
That was me at 20. Brash, ambitious, invincible.
And unfortunately, not very bright.
That day in 1999 began like any other day. I woke up, brushed my teeth, went about my routine of a jog around the park, 20 push-ups, and dressed as dapper as a student’s budget could muster.
On the way to college, I had an accident.
When the motorcycle landed on the ground (and my knee), my first thoughts were predictably puerile.
“Damn! I just put a coat of wax on it and the dents will be expensive to fix.”
A Good Samaritan on the street helped get the bike off me and asked me if I was OK. I nodded and hobbled to my feet limping for a bit. The next sight was one of absolute horror — my right knee ligament had snapped and my leg buckled sideways to a 40-degree angle.
The more serious realization though had not yet dawned on me — that my life would never be the same again.
“One thing you can’t hide — is when you’re crippled inside.”
― John Lennon
The pain was unbelievable. It began slowly but soon consumed me entirely with its savage rapacious power as if to punish the unrepentant version of me of the consequences of my recklessness. My knee swelled to twice its size with blood. It was humbling to be so helpless to do anything about it except lay in bed wishing the nightmare to be over.
This was followed by 48 hours of devastating psychological shocks. I wanted a cast and to get on with life but after going through a battery of intimidating MRIs and X-Rays, I was told I cannot finish my final year of college and may miss a year. I heard I may not recover at all unless I underwent extensive surgery with 6 months of physiotherapy after which I may be able to resume my lifestyle again. The surgery cannot happen immediately either because my wounds and lost blood needed time to recover and they needed time to check if it became septic (amputation was the only option in that eventuality). I would not walk for at least 3 months and even if I was able to, I may develop an early onset of arthritis. I would never do impact sports ever again and, may never run again. In the “best-case scenario,” this condition may be with me forever.
“We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us.”
― Ken Levine
Decades went by and every year the pain followed me. Like a stalker, I would get an attack of sharp pain in my knee followed by a sudden giving away. It creates a sense of panic without warning, kind of like being in an earthquake where you are about to fall. At other times the pain was just like a dull ache that constantly reminded me of that fateful day. Sitting awkwardly in a chair hurt. Rolling over while asleep hurt. Cold weather hurt. It was relentless.
I never dared to run or do any serious exercise (I tried and it just invited unbearable pain for weeks). I gained weight and I always felt like my circumstances are ones that I must accept and live with. Life went on with just a resignation that I should carve out a space that didn’t let my relatively harmless disabilities get in the way (there are people out there suffering far worse obviously).
“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” — Dylan Thomas
And then, almost as if it was overnight, everything changed.
After a series of missteps (both professional and personal), I hit a particularly low point in my life.
It made me question my sense of self and my choices. Why had I succumbed to thoughts (albeit well-intentioned) that had conditioned me into a meek existence? So many wasted years were spent making safe choices, designed to protect me from harm, but made me settle for a far less fulfilling existence. I had many opportunities to become a far better version of myself but I always resisted out of fear of being too reckless and inviting unknown or imagined consequences.
The knee pain was still there through all this, almost as though it was warning and taunting me at the same time.
I became consumed with anger. Not at the world or “fate,” but myself. There were sound reasons for me to disavow my younger self, but I had swung the pendulum too far in the other direction, and it had slowly turned me into something weak and unrecognizable.
So I just gave up on work, went on a one-way ticket to a foreign country, and decided to run again.
“Courage means to keep making forward progress while you still feel afraid.” — Joyce Meyer
It was predictably torturous at first. I knew that this could end very badly but I pressed on anyway. Every wave of excruciating pain was just more fuel for my anger, and it trumped my fear.
The pain reached a crescendo at one point where I could no longer sleep. I just wanted to give up but I used those feelings to tell myself that returning to where I was, was not an option and just an admission of defeat.
And when I gave myself no choice but to press on, little by little things began improving. My endurance (or tolerance of pain) improved. Runs that began as heavy breathing just a few steps in were now less taxing on my system. I could still only jog slowly for about 200 meters on a good day, but it was longer than I had managed for almost 20 years.
Soon I began to be more judicious in the choices of my diet. Gave up my “one chocolate cake a day” (I kid you not) for considerably healthier greens and salmon salad. I slept more, setting alarms for when I must go to bed at night and when I must wake up.
And I ran some more.
“A champion is someone who gets up when he can’t.” — Jack Dempsey
Every other day I would wake up and run. Tried to push myself a little harder, sometimes failing, and falling (swollen knee). But I persisted and kept running!
In 2 short months from the day I began, I went on to triple my running distance and improved my stamina. My skin improved, my muscle tone improved, I lost 10 kgs (22 pounds), and dropped 3 sizes on my waist.
I became more confident in myself and began to celebrate what I had achieved, with more running! It felt almost like finding a side of me I thought I had lost forever.
I can now run non stop every day for over 4 km at a pace that was unthinkable just a year ago. I work on my form, rigorously monitor my progress, and nurture my strength. Every day I get a little faster, a little stronger, and ever more determined. I won’t stop until I can run at least 20 km at a stretch.
Other aspects of my life were also markedly improving. I became more confident in my choices, less likely to withdraw from difficult situations or conflicts, faster and wittier on the draw, and far more resilient from any setbacks. I also became more assertive about what I wanted from all my interactions, and more empathetic towards people and their problems. More amusingly, I also began getting more than the usual evil eye from the cute barista down the road and could confidently flash a smile in return!
There is still a long road ahead of me but it is now one tempered with wisdom and an appreciation of life in a deeper more meaningful way, accepting its sorrows and appreciating the joy that comes with overcoming them.
Don’t try this at home
I don’t recommend everyone with a serious medical condition just go about throwing caution to the wind. Every case is different.
But I do say that it’s human nature to put barriers in front of yourself that are far higher than one needs, and far more damaging to what one set out to protect when one built them.
It’s a deeply personal choice if you want to tear those barriers down or leave them where they are. But I do hope my experience helps people who are unsure of themselves to look at their life and ask, “Is there a better way?”
