The Dangers of Sport: My Personal Journey With Long Distance Running and CrossFit
I’ve been an athlete for as long as I can remember. As much as I identify as a scientist, I feel even more in my own skin an athlete. I started running at 11 years old. My first foray into running was on the cross-country team, though it didn’t take long for me to realize my true skill was sprinting. I fell in love with the raw speed and power of sprinting, and there was nothing I enjoyed more than running as fast as I could and just edging someone out for the victory. The high was addicting-my parents didn’t need to worry about me using drugs in school. I had my drug, and that drug was sprinting.
There was a dark side to running, however. Shin splints were often talked about and were a common plague, and I suffered from them multiple times (the first time in Middle School). Shin splints were tame in comparison to the injury that nearly robbed me of my track and field career almost as quickly as it began, however. During practice at the end of my freshman track season in High School, I got a cramp, which I ran through as I usually did. This cramp was different though. I still had it when I woke up the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that.
Eventually the pain faded, but as soon as I tried running again, I made a distance of about half a mile before it felt like a giant ball was trying to rip its way out of my stomach.
I saw several doctors, including a specialist and a physical therapist, and not one could determine what the problem was. Finally, to keep running, I got a cortisone shot in the muscles around the bottom of my rib cage. I ran two track seasons that way, undoubtedly doing more damage.
By the time I reached college, I felt like I was no longer running for myself, or for the pure joy of running, anymore. I quit running competitively, and while I would run a few miles here and there (with at least 75% of these attempts ending with pain at the old injury site) or ride my bike, I essentially became a non-athletic person for the next nine years.
In graduate school, one of my close friends successfully trained for and ran a half marathon. As I waited at the finish line for her (and then her fiancé, who was running the full marathon) I became hooked on the buzz and energy. It was different from my track and field days, but there was something oddly alluring by the idea of pushing your mind and body to complete such a difficult task. I began training with my friend, who used a run-walk approach to training, and found that with this slow building up to distance and pace, I was running nearly completely pain free at the old injury site for the first time in nine years! Full of joy about this, I decided to enter my first half marathon fall 2014. Soon, I became (almost) as addicted to half marathons as I had to sprinting. I had actually transitioned from a sprinter to a distance runner! It felt weird, but it seemed to be the thing to do at my age. There were thousands, tens of thousands, even, of people in many of the races I entered.
Distance running felt like something attainable to anyone. It wasn’t this elite, special club. There was inclusion and camaraderie, and there was something very attractive about that.
My mother, however, voiced her concern about my newfound activity and as one year of distance running turned into two, I began to notice how many people running those races showed up with their bodies full of tape and joint braces. So many people, in fact, had their bodies decorated with tape that it almost seemed as if you were an outsider if you didn’t have tape. You weren’t a “real” runner, you hadn’t been running long enough to graduate to tape wearing. Aches and pains were normal with distance running. It was common knowledge. No one seemed worried about it, and no one seemed to let it stop them. I, too, was part of this club. I had to tape my knees or I would feel as though knives were prying my knee joints apart. I simply chalked my poor knees up to the beating they took while I was younger, sprinting and riding horses. As my mom continued to gently voice her concern, I began to pay more attention. I began to notice how weak the elite runners looked. I was shocked to see photo-tracked transformations of an ex-ultra trail runner after he quit running and began going to the gym like a “normal” guy, and shook my head in disbelief when I read that he would have sore arms the day after stirring a pot on the stove! A rudimentary Google search turned up 28 marathon-associated deaths over a ten-year period (2000–2009), and, especially concerning to me (I’m at a higher risk for cardiovascular disease, according to my 23 and Me report), most of the running-associated deaths were cardiovascular in origin. I began to seriously consider a different approach to maintaining my fitness.
Over the years, even before I started distance running, I had heard bits and pieces about this a fitness craze called CrossFit. I read articles about it, articles warning of its dangers, most insidious of which was Rhabdomyolysis.
I had an impression of the sport-and the people engaging it-fully formed by the articles I had read, which were without exception negative and laced with urgent warnings not to participate in CrossFit lest you (inevitably) give yourself a debilitating, life threatening injury.
So, when I moved to Colorado in 2014 and one of my co-workers, a normal looking woman who was most certainly not a ripped, egotistical body builder, talked about her CrossFit gym and how much fun she had going, I was surprised. I remember thinking, “She doesn’t look like a CrossFitter.” Two years later, another co-worker invited me to his CrossFit “box” for a beginner’s class. That first workout included running (200 meters), air squats, and the infamous burpee. I loved it! It was certainly much less boring than distance running, and reminded me a bit of the short, intense, bursts of speed and power so typical of sprinting.
Just after Thanksgiving, due to an amazing Black Friday deal, I took the plunge and signed up for CrossFit. Tentative at first, I was impressed by the level of personal attention given to me by the coaches during my first official workout as a box member.
They always stressed correct form and “scaled” workouts appropriate to my experience level. Egos were “checked at the door” and in the introductory booklet I received at the gym, the proud statement that a case of Rhabdo has never occurred at the gym was just about front and center.
This was completely different from the experience I expected to have after reading so many negative articles. In the year since that tentative workout, I’m stronger, fitter, and healthier than I’ve ever been. I continue to run half marathons, but I am able to do so with minimal distance run training, and I no longer need to wear my knee brace, likely because the exercises I engage in during CrossFit have strengthened the muscles that stabilize the joint. But, most importantly, I am part of an amazing community that supports the goals of anyone who wants to join the club-from people with Down syndrome to individuals in wheelchairs.
I’ve since gone back and re-read articles warning of the dangers of CrossFit. I know the dangers are real, and as I watch the elite athletes compete in Regionals and the Games I see that CrossFit, like running, has its fair share of taped up athletes. That being said, having participated in both long distance running and CrossFit, I am personally not convinced that one of these activities is more dangerous than the other. Both sports are dangerous, as are all sports. I’ve seen the taped-up masses at races. I’ve seen people seriously injured from CrossFit. I honestly believe that the reason why more people associate danger with CrossFit than with other sports (probable exception: football) is due to a damaging, yet all-too-pervasive attitude and mentality held by many CrossFitters: a mentality that values speed and reps over form and that promotes ego.
Responsible athletes that are in tune with their bodies and respect their limits can participate in CrossFit safely and see amazing results while doing so.
Educating athletes and coaches-who are instrumental in teaching and enforcing good warm up, cool down, and stretching practices as well as a healthy mentality and good form-will improve safety and reduce injury not only in CrossFit, but in all sports. Whatever sport you engage in, remember-stay humble, form first, and listen to your body-and you have a good chance of staying healthy and injury free for years to come.
This post is a modified version of the story originally posted on drhydenotjekyll.com.
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