Being Willing to Start Over

Have you ever felt like you need a do-over?

Have you ever actually done it?

I ask because I’m just starting one myself.

Sometimes starting over feels daunting, and we convince ourselves to put it off.

No, I don’t want to start eating better right now. I’ll do it tomorrow. Next week. Next month.

No, it sounds too hard with everything else I have going on right now to start going back to the gym. I’ll think about it in the fall.

I’m just not sure it’s a great idea because I have too much on my plate already. I’ll go back for that degree when things slow down.

But guess what? Things never really seem to slow down much. And those things that we dream about doing just keep getting pushed off until “someday.”

What if “someday” is today?

My restart

I was listening to an episode of one of my all-time favorite podcasts, Annie and Eddie Keep Talking, and Eddie was talking about starting to run again after having surgery on his knee. It intrigued me that he was talking about running again after discussing on another recent episode that he was looking for more low-impact cardio options.

I’ve been in a similar place. I started having hip pain years ago that I associated with two things: 1) running on paved trails a couple times a week, and 2) sitting most of the rest of the time.

I tried physical therapy. It didn’t help much.

I tried icing my hips. It didn’t seem like a good long-term solution.

I started walking more to compensate for my rather sedentary job (and hobbies, *ahem* reading). It helped stretch my muscles, but not enough.

I got a spin bike (that I love!), but I still really missed running. It’s just not the same.

I wanted to find a way to make it work.

So when Eddie went on to talk about how his goal isn’t to crush it in races, but to be able to run a couple miles around his neighborhood every week, I thought to myself, “That’s what I’d like, too. That seems reasonable.”

But how? The last time I tried to run, I ended up with such bad hip pain that I could barely move around my house and work for two whole days.

And then it happened. I heard a snippet of Annie and Eddie’s conversation that gave me hope.

Finding the hope

Eddie said he had discovered that he hadn’t been running properly, and that’s when my ears perked up. What do you mean “running correctly”? I wondered. I knew the basics of looking ahead, not down, keeping your shoulders down, having your arms bent, but this went beyond my knowledge. He went on to explain that he’d been running heel-to-toe, and that when he went in to have someone observe his running stride to fix any issues in the course of his therapy and training post-surgery, they stopped him immediately to correct his foot strike.

That blew my mind!

Apparently, you’re supposed to have a midfoot strike, not a heel strike. I googled it and read up on how landing on your heel can cause lots of common injuries.

It started the good kind of Google spiral (we all know the bad kind, am I right? I promise this wasn’t anything that turned into thinking a little pain is cancer).

I read up on running injuries (which I’ve done before, but never with so much fervor or success) associated with poor running form (specifically landing on your heel), as well as some remedies and suggestions for dealing with them. And of course, much of it confirmed my experience— both with the way I had been running (for ten years!) and the issues I’d experienced.

I could have chosen to say it would be too hard to retrain my brain and body to run differently.

I could have gotten upset with the people at the running store who evaluated my running to recommend shoes and never said anything except that I’d need maximum cushion.

I could have been annoyed that physical therapy didn’t do anything, and remembered that they never actually watched me run, even though I cited it as a likely cause for my pain.

But none of those things felt very constructive.

So I took a different approach— moving forward with trying to run again, despite the difficulties.

Moving forward

I’m not sure how this is going to pan out. Running might still cause my hips to hurt every time I try. I might have to give it up again.

But I want to try. And that requires being okay with being a beginner again (which, incidentally, reminds me of Annie’s book That Sounds Fun).

I actually went for a run last weekend— for the first time in a couple months, and before that single run, I hadn’t been out since November.

I gave myself full permission to walk as much or more than I ran. I just wanted two things: 1) to make it three miles one way or another, and 2) to focus on my foot strike and not land heel-first.

Guess what?

I did it. I felt like celebrating! I certainly wasn’t fast, and it definitely felt weird over-analyzing my steps. But I did it.

And yes, my hips hurt some even after working on hip-opening and hip-strengthening exercises. Though I took it as a good sign that they didn’t hurt nearly as badly as they had in March, I was able to walk normally, and it was actually my calf muscles that hurt the most.

I’m still not sure if that’s from going for my second run in six months or if it’s just the impact of running altogether. That’s something I don’t expect to be able to figure out for a little bit yet.

But I have hopes of being able to run when we take a couple weeks off work to camp this summer, and I’d love to make that happen. Slow or fast. Far or not so far. I just want the fresh air and the movement. It’s good for my soul.

And yet, I’m trying to hold it loosely. I didn’t exactly let go of it well before (and not for too long). I had identified myself as a runner. It’s what I did. Even though I never was particularly fast, and even if I usually didn’t go too far. I couldn’t go too often or everything would hurt, but I went regularly twice a week for a few miles. And there’s a really real possibility that I will never be able to do that again. Which is hard to come to terms with.

But I’m trying. I’m putting one foot in front of the other, as long as my heel isn’t first. ;) I’m doing the work and hoping for the outcome I want while knowing it’s not all in my control.

Bringing it together

Isn’t that how everything is?

We do only what we can and have to let the rest go?

We take small steps because that’s all that’s manageable?

We accept that it’s okay to be a beginner, to start over, to start again, to let go of needing to be the best, and to not know how it will end?

I’m going to start with my running, see how it goes, and try being okay with being a beginner.

Have you started something over or started something new and felt like a complete beginner? I want to hear about it!

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