I used to view acceptance as failure
I used to be really fast. My fastest half marathon was 1 hour 30 minutes, and that was on 2 days notice (I took a buddy’s bib after he got sick). That’s a sub 7 minute mile, for 13.1 miles. When I competed in my first Ironman I ran a 4 hour marathon. That’s not Usain Bolt fast, but it’s still 9 minute miles after swimming over 2 miles and biking over 100. It’s not bad. But now, if I can run 4 miles at 10 minute miles it’s an achievement.
In 2019 I suffered an achilles tendon injury that caused a host of other injuries, and, most importantly, wrecked my running gait. The injury and subsequent injuries that developed because I never treated the original injury, created a 1/4 inch different in length between my two legs. My right hip ended up compensating for the trauma to my left achilles tendon in such a way that it hiked my hip up, and ‘shortened’ my right leg. When I run now it feels like I’m rolling a square boulder down the street, and for so long all I’ve wanted is to run fast again. So that’s what I focused on.
But it never happened. The misalignment in my body just won’t allow it. Sometimes I could run fast over short periods, but it wouldn’t last, and I would end up with all kinds of pain and discomfort the next day from running fast on a fucked up gait. So in subsequent days and weeks I would back off, and mostly give up on the idea of running fast. Until a few weeks or months went by and I’d try again, and ended up with the same result. For awhile I was telling myself I just want to be able to run. I don’t care about going fast. But every time I laced up my sneakers and hit the pavement I would remember my glory days of being fast and run for speed, repeating the cycle all over again.
I couldn’t get it out of my head that I could no longer run fast. I couldn’t accept that as my reality. I felt as though if I did, then it would be a failure. I felt as though by accepting defeat (which is what it felt like) I would never return to my sub 7 minute days. And I felt as though if I just kept pushing it regardless of what my brain and body were telling me, that eventually it would give way to more speed. No matter how many times I told myself the real joy was just in being able to run, no matter the pace, I couldn’t accept it. Until recently, when one day it finally clicked for me.
I had been telling myself the thing I really care about is just getting out for a run. The ability to lace up, walk out the door, and come back 30 - 60 minutes later will that runners high I so desperately missed. Every type of work out has it’s own type of positive impact on mental health, and the runners high is one of the best. So I said let’s try it. Let’s see what happens if I truly embrace that idea, and genuinely stop focusing on speed. Let’s see what happens if I accept running 10 or 11 minute miles, focused on time spent running instead. Let’s see how that changes things. And that’s what I’ve been doing.
Over the last few months I’ve been running 3 - 5 miles twice a week with no pace goal. Only a goal of getting the miles in. Only a goal of running like I’ve been wanting. And over that time I’ve seen slow improvement in my run gait, run power, and run efficiency. Someone once said to me that in order to run fast you have to be able to run far, and I’m finally understanding what they mean.
With the pressure to run fast gone, I’ve been able to enjoy my runs again. I don’t even go out with headphones anymore or my phone anymore. I go out with the intention of embracing the sounds of the neighborhood, and enjoying the run before anything else. With the pressure to run fast gone, I’ve been able to focus on properly rehabbing my achilles and hip. I’m almost one month into a new program that I had ClaudeAI help me put together, and I’ve only missed one day during that time. Now that the pressure to perform is gone, I’ve been able to actually address the real issues preventing me from moving fast. Something that I wouldn’t have been able to do if I was still out there pushing past the pace my body could move. Having to spend mental and physical energy on the resulting pain and discomfort that comes from running too fast.
It’s funny because I always viewed acceptance as limiting progress and as a mindset steeped in complacency. I saw acceptance and complacency as the same thing. But what I realize now is that sometimes you have to accept the current situation in order to see yourself out of it. If you are just beating your head against the wall unwilling to see the reality of your situation, then you are never going to be able to discover a way out. Acceptance is not failure. Acceptance is not being complacent. Acceptance is acknowledging the situation for what it is, and figuring out how to make the best of it.