{"id":432,"date":"2016-05-10T05:04:18","date_gmt":"2016-05-10T05:04:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/?p=432"},"modified":"2016-08-25T02:16:15","modified_gmt":"2016-08-25T02:16:15","slug":"identity-injury-and-the-athlete","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/","title":{"rendered":"Injury, Identity and the Athlete"},"content":{"rendered":"

Yesterday, I decided to clean out the trunk of my car. It\u2019s long overdue. As I surveyed the contents, I took notes (and yes, I realize this is disgusting): 9 pairs of trail shoes. 3 pairs of road shoes. 3 headlamps. 4 pairs of Injinjis, and one random mateless sock. 4 long sleeve running tops. 2 tanks. 2 buffs. One running visor. 2 rolls of RockTape. A bag of emergency gels and bloks. Scattered packets of BeetElite. A crumbly pack of Maple Bacon Pop-Tarts. And 3 handheld water bottles.<\/p>\n

I took a step (or, crutched a step) back. I stared at the contents.<\/p>\n

And I started crying.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cGoddamit, Amelia,\u201d I told myself, \u201cI thought you had moved past this stage.\u201d That, being the all-too familiar stages of grief, mostly associated with the death of loved one or the end of a relationship. But for an athlete, nothing brings out those stages of grief like an injury.<\/p>\n

Because, for an athlete \u2013 whether you are an Olympic gold medalist or a new runner training to run your first 5k \u2013 an injury is so much more than a physical ailment. Hell, the physical is the easy part. Muscles heal. Bones grow. It\u2019s the mental part of injury that haunts us \u2013 that keeps us awake at night. It\u2019s the demons and the voices in the head \u2013 the fear that we\u2019ll \u201cnever get back\u201d to where we once were, or we \u201cthrew away all that hard work and training\u201d or that we were in the \u201cbest shape of our lives\u201d and now can only sit by as first-row spectators to watch as we lose our muscle, our endurance, our speed, our V02Max, and, at the core of it, our sense of self and our self-confidence.<\/p>\n

And, if you really, truly, love your sport, what eats at you – day and night – is the overwhelming sense of losing a part of yourself. You mourn those missed opportunities. Toeing that start line. The joy of a hard training session and the feeling of accomplished soreness. You feel\u2026lost. A ship without an anchor. Or fries without ketchup.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
My typical morning view from the trails at Rancho. This, I miss the most.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I consider myself a rational human being. I\u2019m fairly smart, decently logical (or, I\u2019d like to think those traits got me through law school at least). And I can sit here and tell myself, as I\u2019m sure every athlete can, \u201cyou are not defined by your sport. You are not defined by your physical prowness and your race wins and your PRs and your podium pictures.\u201d I can tell myself I\u2019m so much more than that as a person, and that being an athlete is NOT my entire identity. That I\u2019m a generally likeable human being with other things to offer to the world. That people enjoy my company (or, at least, fake it). That I can engage in intelligent conversation and I\u2019m a worthy friend, sister, and daughter. And I\u2019ve consoled many of injured athlete friends with the same line of \u201cracing is not who you ARE\u201d and accompanied that with a hug and well-wishes for a speedy recovery.<\/p>\n

But honestly, I\u2019m starting to think that line is a load of horseshit. And I\u2019m tired of hearing it.<\/p>\n

Because, for better or worse, as humans, we seek to define ourselves. We seek meaning, and we seek joy. And for athletes, racing and competing in their chosen sport IS\u00a0that joy. You build your identity around things you love, around the happiness you feel. You build your community with like-minded individuals, and the sport becomes your purpose in life. \u00a0And, frankly, I fail to see anything wrong with that.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
This\u00a0feeling<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I\u2019ve spent the last few weeks chastising myself over being so upset, over the random fits of crying. \u201cYou should be stronger than this,\u201d I tell myself, \u201cYou\u2019ve been injured before.\u201d Sure, I have. But the longest I\u2019ve ever been separated from running has been less than a month. Even post knee-surgery, I was back to running within 3 weeks. When I compare that to the 4+\u00a0month-fate laid out in front of me, I can\u2019t fathom that expanse of time. I tell myself that I should use this time to find new hobbies, to expand my horizons, to focus on recovery and what little cross-training I\u2019m able to do (eff you, swimming with a pull buoy). But nothing piques my interest like the trails that beckon to me from my office window.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So I\u2019ve gotten into a vicious cycle of berating myself for being upset, which then compounds how awful and weak I already feel: \u00a0I\u2019ve pretty much secured a 24-hour pass to the merry-go-round of self-flagellation. The could-haves, the would -haves, the should-haves. The overwhelming sense of guilt and stigma associated with an overuse injury, especially a stress fracture (\u201cdidn\u2019t you feel it coming on?\u201d \u201cwho runs enough to break their femur?\u201d). The sheepishness in explaining it to people, especially other athletes whom you fear might be judging you for your foolish mistakes that landed you there. And, overarching all of this, the (what I call) \u201cthere are children starving in Africa\u201d phenomenon \u2013 I feel ashamed that I’m crying and being a bag of shit over a tiny crack in a bone given how \u201cblessed I am\u201d compared to so many people in the world. The inner monologue that goes: “it’s JUST running. Stop being so dramatic and emotional, Amelia. It’s not like you’re dying. Or will never run again.” (I’m sure many of you reading this would like to slap me and tell me the same thing right now).<\/p>\n

<\/a>
That feeling<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

The last stage of grief is acceptance. I\u2019m not there yet. But what I am going to accept is that running\/racing is a HUGE part of my identity, and I\u2019m not going to apologize for that. And I\u2019m not going to change it, nor do I want to change that, just because conventional wisdom says that\u2019s a \u201chealthy\u201d thing to do. Nor do I think that I (or, ANY athlete) should try to replace it with, say, underwater basket weaving, for the next 4+ months. If anything, this injury has shown me where my true passions lie, and the last thing I\u2019m going to do is give up that part of myself right now.<\/p>\n

Yesterday, I stood there for several minutes, staring at the open trunk of my car. Maybe it\u2019d be easier to remove all running-related gear while I\u2019m injured, to remove the constant reminder that I\u2019m missing out on what I love to do (or, you know \u2013 to make room for groceries or other things that typically go in the trunk of your car). But in the end, I closed the trunk, and crutched away \u2013 contents left undisturbed. Because, even though I\u2019m not able to train\/run right now, it doesn\u2019t erase that part of me. That messy trunk, full of mud and shoes and sweat, is a reminder of who I am. Of where I\u2019ve come from and, eventually, where I\u2019ll be again.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Yesterday, I decided to clean out the trunk of my car. It\u2019s long overdue. As I surveyed the contents, I took notes (and yes, I realize this is disgusting): 9 pairs of trail shoes. 3 pairs of road shoes. 3 headlamps. 4 pairs of Injinjis, and one random mateless sock. 4 long sleeve running tops. … Continue reading Injury, Identity and the Athlete<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":435,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,7,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-432","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-rehab","category-spartan","category-ultramarathons"],"yoast_head":"\nInjury, Identity and the Athlete - Race Ipsa Loquitur<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Injury, Identity and the Athlete - Race Ipsa Loquitur\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Yesterday, I decided to clean out the trunk of my car. 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As I surveyed the contents, I took notes (and yes, I realize this is disgusting): 9 pairs of trail shoes. 3 pairs of road shoes. 3 headlamps. 4 pairs of Injinjis, and one random mateless sock. 4 long sleeve running tops. … Continue reading Injury, Identity and the Athlete →\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Race Ipsa Loquitur\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/amelia.boone\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2016-05-10T05:04:18+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2016-08-25T02:16:15+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/05\/FullSizeRender-9.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"2448\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"2448\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"ameliaboone\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@ameliaboone\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@ameliaboone\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"ameliaboone\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/\",\"name\":\"Injury, Identity and the Athlete - Race Ipsa Loquitur\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2016-05-10T05:04:18+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2016-08-25T02:16:15+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/fafd1f29a545a693a195dbc0d815796f\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/rehab\/identity-injury-and-the-athlete\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Injury, Identity and the Athlete\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/\",\"name\":\"Race Ipsa Loquitur\",\"description\":\""The timorous may stay at home." ~ Murphy v. 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