![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.ameliabooneracing.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/12\/IMG_2624-e1482874498510.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nI promptly ripped this page (and one more, which you’ll see if you make it all the way through this novel of a post)\u00a0and taped it to my bathroom mirror, as a theme for my recovery journey. Granted, the journey has been much longer than I anticipated,\u00a0but can be summed up with two themes: gratitude and acceptance.<\/p>\n
When I first sat down to write this post, I titled it “2016: A Year of Injury.” But the more I wrote, I realized that, yes – I could look at\u00a0this as a year of injury. Or\u00a0I could look at this as a year of healing – body and mind.\u00a0So that’s what I choose to do, and here are the things I picked up along the way:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
(1) It gets easier <\/strong><\/p>\n When I first heard the diagnosis of \u201cfemoral stress fracture,\u201d I felt like my world was ending. The idea of not running for a whole TEN WEEKS seemed unfathomable, and the mere thought of it sent me into uncontrollable crying fits. And I won\u2019t lie, the first few days were agonizing. I denied. I cried. I bargained. I yelled. I did everything to pretend it wasn\u2019t happening \u2013 like somehow, Amelia without her morning runs up Black Mountain would cease to exist. A week in, and I was the most miserable I\u2019d ever been.<\/p>\n But then, a funny thing happened as the days and weeks went by \u2013 it got easier. The tears dried. The violent waves of anger brought on by seeing someone running down the road lessened, and I adapted to a \u201cnew normal.\u201d It\u2019s like I\u2019d gotten through the runner\u2019s \u201cwithdrawals,\u201d and the urges subsided.<\/p>\n Ten weeks came and went and I still couldn\u2019t run. Hell, I was still on crutches. When all was said and done, it was December 1st<\/sup>, not just 10\u00a0weeks<\/span>, but 7+ months<\/strong><\/span>\u00a0before running started again. A length of time I never thought imaginable – yet, here I am. Out of shape, with lots of muscle lost, but still kicking.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve had a lot of injured athletes reach out to me this past year, and the #1 thing I tell them is that it DOES get easier. You\u2019ll go in waves where some days will be awful and others you\u2019ll feel just fine, but overall, the first week or two is the worst. So have patience and faith.<\/p>\n (2) The goal was never to get back to \u201cwhere I was.\u201d And until I accepted that, I couldn\u2019t heal. <\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n In my last blog post<\/a>, I alluded to the fact that I had a \u201csetback\u201d in my recovery. I was purposely vague (and that killed me, but that\u2019s for a different blog post – coming soon!) for many reasons, but it was the overwhelming feeling of shame that lead me from hiding the truth: in the beginning of September, 4 weeks coming off of crutches for the femoral stress fracture, we discovered a second stress fracture. That meant another 12 week sentence of no impact, of no running.<\/p>\n To say it was a sucker punch when you are already down for the count is a bit of an understatement. But amidst the tears, my friend (and life twin!) Caroline<\/a>\u00a0asked me a question which I thought was rather silly at the time: \u201cAmelia, did\u00a0you ACCEPT your injury? With the femur?\u201d And I retorted \u201cof course I have, Burckle. It\u2019s hard to not when you are on crutches for 3+ months.\u201d<\/p>\n But what I realized is that while I couldn\u2019t ignore the physical injury, I did everything I could to cross-train around it. I fought like hell to maintain my fitness. I denied that my training methods were wrong, or that they may have been the source of the injury. I did everything to pretend it was just a few months off, and my training would resume as normal after a clean bill showing no fracture. For months, I kept lamenting about being worried about \u201cgetting back to the place where I was.\u201d When instead, I should have accepted that I\u2019m NEVER going to return to \u201cwhere I was,\u201d and that\u2019s actually the LAST place I should want to go. Instead, I need to move forward, accept that I\u2019m never going to be the same athlete, and that\u2019s not necessarily a bad thing. Now, the end of December, a month into a return to run program (until the careful guidance of Coach David…#rawr) from the second stress fracture, I finally feel like I\u2019ve reached the point where I\u2019ve accepted that I\u2019m not trying to \u201cget back\u201d anywhere. And I\u2019m probably never going to train how I used to train, but that\u2019s ok. Because I have faith that, with the perspective and knowledge, I\u2019ll train\u00a0better<\/span>.<\/p>\n (3) When one door closes\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2026sometimes a TV microphone gets shoved in your face and you say, \u201chey, why not?\u201d I certainly didn\u2019t expect this year to turn into the year of OCR commentary, but it somehow did, and it was by far, the best thing that could have happened. I don\u2019t pretend to be any good at it, but hot damn – it was a blast. Starting with ESPN and Battlefrog in the spring, SNY with Civilian Military Combine in September, some semi-suspect Facebook live stream hosting for Spartan, and finishing it out with the 24-hour Tough Mudder livestream and hosting the CBS Sports World\u2019s Toughest After Show\u2026phew.<\/p>\n Suffice it to say I had absolutely ZERO idea what I was getting myself into, and I definitely look at some of the footage and cringe, but, aside from the TV makeup, I kinda like this gig. I hope this little sport of our sticks around so I have something to do when I\u2019m long past my racing days. Or I\u2019ll just have to convince a sports channel to let me talk about football all day instead.<\/p>\n (4) You don\u2019t HAVE to cultivate outside interests or pick up a new hobby. Don\u2019t give into a case of the SHOULDS. <\/strong><\/p>\n From the first day of my injury, I received the standard line over and over again from well-meaning folks: \u201cthis is a great time to pick up a new interest or hobby!\u201d \u201cSure,\u201d I replied, through gritted teeth, contemplating whether it was acceptable to slap said person across the face. And I thought about \u2013 I tossed around ideas, I started a few things here and there, but it all felt so\u2026forced<\/a>. I was going through the motions merely because other people said that was \u201cthe thing to do.\u201d So eff it \u2013 once I gave myself permission to NOT have to pick up the ukulele or underwater basket weaving, I felt so much freer. Sometimes you don\u2019t HAVE to fill the time spent not training. Sometimes the best use of that time is just to be.<\/p>\n Though I will say that, amidst much kicking and screaming I did start a daily meditation practice. Most days, I really suck at it \u2013 my mind wanders, I get bored, sometimes I fall asleep (oops). But one of the best things it\u2019s taught me is the value of observing how I\u2019m feeling without judgment. I\u2019m well-known for hopping on the never-ending merry go-round of self-flagellation<\/a>. Meditation has taught me to observe how I\u2019m feeling as a bystander, and how to stop berating myself because I SHOULD be feeling a different way. \u00a0Or how I SHOULD be doing a different thing, such as \u201cpicking up a new hobby\u201d.<\/p>\n So, stop with the shoulds. Be kind to yourself.<\/p>\n (5) Develop a new normal <\/strong><\/p>\n There came a point, probably around mid-July, where I realize I didn\u2019t even remember what it felt like to run, let alone walk for more than a few blocks. I had been on crutches for 3 months at this point. But oddly enough, I was content. As I alluded to in (1), it gets easier. And I owe that a lot to creating a new normal, but to keeping a routine. I firmly believe in routines to keep us productive and grounded. My new routine didn\u2019t involve sunrise mountain summits and 100 mile weeks, but that\u2019s ok. It still involved early morning wake-up times, but those hours consisted of the pool, physical therapy, or sometimes just prolonged meditation instead. The \u201cworkouts\u201d weren\u2019t hard, and sometimes I\u2019d just go to the gym and sit and watch people while I did some baby core exercises, but the habit helped.<\/p>\n (6) The longer you are out of the game, the more you doubt you can ever get back in it <\/strong><\/p>\n This, unfortunately, is still my great big unknown. And, not going to lie, I\u2019m struggling mightily with this one. I haven\u2019t run an obstacle race in over a year (not that I\u2019m counting\u2026sigh). An ultra in 9 months. And with every 2 steps forward, 1 step back in the crazy process of injury rehab, I continually question if I\u2019m EVER going to make it back (shoot, I’m already violating (2) – sorry, Burckle). If I\u2019m ever going to be able to reclaim the top of that podium, or be a shred of the athlete that I was. Or have I simply\u2026lost it? The worst feeling is the inability to trust your own body, and the constant self-doubt that plagues an athlete when you\u2019ve been sidelined for so long.<\/p>\n I wish I had answers. And I wish I had the confidence to tell you \u201chot damn you know I\u2019ll be back out there crushing it.\u201d Sure, I\u2019ll say that, but as the months tick by, the voice in the back of my head has ripped out every shred of confidence I have as an athlete.<\/p>\n People always talk about the physical part of injury. The physical part is easy. It\u2019s the mental part that will eat you alive.<\/strong> Wondering if every ache and pain is a new catastrophic injury, or a massive setback from the prior. Worrying that your body is going to betray you\u2026forever. And trying to have the patience and trust to weather the painfully slow rebuilding process.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve only started this process in 2016, and at this point, I don\u2019t have answers or certainty. But I trudge forward, with the blind faith that the confidence can be found, the athlete is still there, just waiting for her time to re-emerge.<\/p>\n (7) When you\u2019ve hit rock bottom, you find your true support system<\/strong><\/p>\n When you are on top of the world, everyone wants to be your friend. Sponsors line up, awards are piled on, and praise is non-stop. Those are the easy times. But when you can\u2019t compete, when you aren\u2019t on TV crushing races, you become acutely aware of how easy it is to be \u201cforgotten.\u201d How quickly people move onto the \u201cnext thing.\u201d And how fickle of a mistress \u201cfame\u201d can be. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n But the upside of the fickleness is that you suddenly are able to realize who really DOES matter in your life. You see that some \u201cfriendships\u201d are nothing more than folks being \u201cfans\u201d when you are dominating, but are quick to forget you when you are no longer at the top. So I spent this past year reprioritizing relationships, and focusing on those that have been with me through thick and thin, or who may have come into my life only recently, but have taught me so much about life, resilience, and what really matters. Such as my high school girlfriends (hi Angelfish!) who could give two shits if I run through mud or not \u2013 they love me as the orange-haired, frozen-yogurt scooping show choir nerd who would happily let them trash the back of my \u201986 Volvo. \u00a0\u00a0Or my \u201cOG\u201d racing friends from back in the World\u2019s Toughest Mudder Jersey days \u2013 we started as a small, strange little family, and to this day, we still are. And of course, my sister and parents and extended family who will be there for me, always, regardless. It’s tough for me to accept support from people, as I’ve always preached that you need to rely on yourself (ha – as I told Tim Ferriss on his podcast: “No one owes you anything.”) But it is certainly nice when folks do let you lean on them.<\/p>\n And of course, I\u2019m grateful and thankful for having sponsors that stuck with me and believed in me even when I couldn\u2019t represent them in races \u2013 Reebok<\/a>, BeetElite<\/a>, RockTape<\/a>, Premiere Spine & Sport<\/a>, Spartan \u2013 thank you for continuing to believe in me as a person and as an athlete.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n (8) It\u2019s ok to admit you aren\u2019t ok (or that you need help) \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n I\u2019m not exactly the most warm and fuzzy person. And for me, admitting that I need help has always been a sign of weakness, of failure. I\u2019ll never forgot the first time I was confronted with talking out the garbage while on crutches \u2013 being the stubborn asshole that I am, instead of asking a neighbor to help me, I attempted to do it myself, and ended up falling and landing awkwardly on the broken femur. Well-done, Amelia. Bravo.<\/p>\n So I slowly started to learn how to ask for help. And to swallow my pride and recognize that physically, I wasn\u2019t capable of certain things. What was harder was admitting that, emotionally, I was wasn\u2019t capable of certain things either. For so long, I\u2019ve used my accomplishments to do the talking for me. The podium pictures to show that things are alright. My legs to run me away from my problems on a daily basis. But when you are stripped of your legs and your athletic accomplishments, the only thing left you can use is your voice, which is what I should have been using all along.<\/p>\n It\u2019s ok to ask for help. It\u2019s ok to not be ok. And by admitting you aren\u2019t ok, you are on the path to being whole again.<\/p>\n (9) Do the hard things. Those are the things that change you as a person. <\/strong><\/p>\n In a year where I didn\u2019t compete in a single obstacle race, I still attended almost as many as if I had been running. I went to every single NBC-series Spartan Race, the Spartan World Championships, OCR World Championships, and World\u2019s Toughest Mudder. I crewed for the amazing Devon Yanko<\/a> at Western States, which was supposed to be my 100-mile debut<\/a>.<\/p>\n People commented on how \u201cgreat\u201d I was for still coming out and smiling and cheering folks on. Honestly? I wish I could say it was easy. At times, and especially in the beginning, being at races and staying involved in the community ate my soul. At the first NBC Spartan Race in Montana, I barely made it through the weekend. I smiled, cheered people on, and went back to my hotel room and broke down in fits of sobs. Fellow athletes told me I didn\u2019t HAVE to put myself through that torture \u2013 that it was ok to disengage if it was easier.<\/p>\n I, however, do not believe in the easy way.<\/strong><\/p>\n And, sure enough, a funny thing happened \u00a0– like so many other parts of injury, it got easier as the months wore on. Somewhere along the way, the faked smiles and cheers became genuine. The crying fits became fewer and further between (though I will admit that Spartan World Championships and World\u2019s Toughest Mudder were especially rocky). I no longer dreaded standing on the sidelines<\/a>. I no longer feared not standing on top of the podium. And I started to really appreciate that no growth happens when you hide your head in the sand.<\/p>\n (10) You live<\/strong><\/p>\n 2016 didn\u2019t go as planned, to say the least. From laying out my most ambitious and exciting race schedule ever a year ago, to not even competing in a single obstacle race. From logging my highest mileage months ever, to not running a step for 9 months. From feeling the strongest I ever have as an athlete, to feeling the absolute weakest. Yes, 2016 was a doozy.<\/p>\n But you know what? It has been, by far, my most personally fulfilling year ever. Maybe being unable to physically run from my problems forced me to confront them, and do the deep work that is so easy to abandon when times are good. Maybe I had to be physically weak and broken to become emotionally strong.<\/strong> And while I don\u2019t have it all figured out, maybe life put a \u201cpause\u201d button in front of me to allow me to do so.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t believe everything happens for a reason. And I certainly don\u2019t believe injury happens for a reason. But I do know that this past year has taught me that, even when your passions and loves are stripped from you, you can still find happy. You can still be complete. You adjust, you reassess, you struggle through the bad times, you celebrate the little victories. And, at the end of the day, you live.<\/p>\n Thank you, 2016, for\u00a0teaching me how to live. <\/strong><\/p>\n Here\u2019s to 2017.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" On April 26th of this year, a few days after the whole “broken femur” thing started, I picked up a copy of Cheryl Strayed’s book “Brave Enough.” I flipped to a page, and this stared at me: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I promptly ripped this page (and one more, which you’ll see if you make it all the … Continue reading 2016: A Year of Healing<\/span> <\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a>