the whole plate. » injury

cannot; will not.

leslie — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 16:24:02 +0000

Warning: I need to complain a little. Apologies in advance.

Yesterday morning, as I was sipping my coffee and thinking about going to yoga class, I found myself not quite in the mood to venture out to the studio. I opened iTunes and began scanning my ever-growing list of podcasts, when I was struck with an impulse I hadn’t had in some time: I felt like going to the gym.

My apartment building is equipped with a small, but very functional gym, so the option was certainly there. I decided I had no reason not to go – I never want to feel as though I have to do yoga simply because it’s what I [gladly] dedicate myself to the majority of the time. Everyone needs to mix it up, on occasion.

positivity: banana oats with cinnamon, ginger, dried figs, cashews, tahini, agave

So I dug out my sneakers, rode the elevator to the roof, and hopped on the elliptical. It was a nice change – zoning out, feeling the beat of louder music from the headphones in my ears. 25 minutes later, I switched over to the treadmill. I took two steps – and I felt a pull behind my right knee. Another step: left knee. It wasn’t pain, but it was enough to know it could get worse. I spent about ten minutes walking with the incline cranked all the way up before I knew I needed to listen to my knees and call it quits.

I like to be more uplifting on the blog, but there isn’t much point in sugarcoating. I was fuming. I’ve been dealing with this injury for ten months. It used to upset me to the point of tears, but this time, I was angry.

more positivity: afternoon finds; total cost of $3

There are a literal million people in the world who have to force themselves to go to the gym each day. People who hate exercise, who dread it, who need trainers or numbers to motivate them. People who simply won’t do it.

In the past, I haven’t always had the healthiest relationship with exercise – but I do now. And while I am so, so content to practice yoga most of the time, I do not like the knowledge that I cannot do anything else. Can’t is not a word I want to face at the age of 24. And yet, here it is.

When I returned to my apartment yesterday, rather than wallow in self-pity, I did two things. I unrolled my yoga mat and spent a good twenty minutes stretching my body in all directions [I know a large factor in my knee problems is muscle tightness]. And I made an appointment with an acupuncture clinic to try yet another method of treatment. Yes, I can walk and I can do yoga. But yesterday proved to me that I am only managing the pain, rather than curing it, and I won’t accept that until I’ve exhausted every option.

and more positivity: le beaujolais est arrivé!

In the meantime, today I have yoga and a coffee date, and yesterday I acquired some beautiful finds for a nice $3. And, my sister and I picked up a bottle of Beaujolais, that wonderful late November treat.

I’ve learned to handle things beyond my control by focusing on the positive. What about you? How do you cope when your mind says yes but your body says no?

what i learned on my running vacation.

leslie — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 15:41:06 +0000

Today I am finally getting fitted for custom orthotics. My physical therapist swears I will run again, and soon, but I still don’t know.

Sometimes I am still surprised that I’ve managed to settle into a running-free life. It felt like agony in the beginning, but in the past couple months, things have changed. It’s not that I learned to live with it; it’s more that I learned to live in a different way.

Sure, there were some tears. There were some screams. But looking back, I have grown an incredible amount, and I’m not sure that living out a dream of running a half marathon would have taught me the same lessons:

I discovered yoga. Running was my outlet for any and all emotions. Frustrated? Run. Angry? Run. Excited? Run. Afraid? Run. I had some of my most introspective thoughts while pounding out the miles. But with yoga, I learned to shut my brain off. I stopped focusing on my body and my emotions, and instead centered on simply being. That mental freedom is something I will treasure forever.

I practiced patience. I followed the plans I was given, performed the strengthening exercises, stayed in when I knew I shouldn’t walk too much, rested when I was told to. I did what I should have, but my body didn’t always follow. I could never predict when I would have a good day and when I would not. I couldn’t make my own exercise plans; I couldn’t train for a race. I could, however, focus on what was happening right now. As someone who always looks to the future, this was a difficult adjustment – but it was worth it. Patience is a virtue, and appreciating each day as I live it has been a beautiful gift.

I started eating to live, not to run. Most runners I know are a bit obsessed with food – what to eat, when to eat, how to eat it. While I think the concept of sports nutrition is a fascinating one, it has been nice to take a break from it. While running, I knew I needed to eat in order to run well (and the feeling of running while underfueled is not an enjoyable one). But without running? No longer was I eating for a purpose. I was eating because it was an enjoyable, pleasurable part of life. I’ve stopped seeing food as fuel, and I am now happy to approach it as something I love.

I realized the mental benefits of exercise far outweigh the physical. I started seriously exercising a couple years ago in order to change my body. And suddenly, I found myself forced to rest. I was shocked to find that not only did my weight not change an ounce, but that I also didn’t care. Far more than the calorie burn, I missed the high. Each day I am able to walk, to press up into downward dog, even to zone out on the elliptical, I am grateful for the ability to do it. I’ve proven to myself that I exercise to better my soul.

So really, who knows if orthotics will be a miracle cure. But if they aren’t – I’m confident I’ll survive.

Have you ever been injured? What have you learned from it?

power[ful] yoga.

leslie — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 15:11:24 +0000

Saturdays used to be my long run day. Since getting injured, I have slowly transformed them into yoga days.

I am very new to yoga. I have always been hopelessly inflexible, never coming close to a split even after twelve years of ballet. Running made my muscles even tighter, and my addiction to the adrenaline of high-intensity cardio made yoga seem like a slow, prolonged form of torture. Needless to say, I gave up rather easily.

But then I found myself unable to run, and I needed a place to focus my energy. I craved an outlet for it. So I slid my old beginner’s vinyasa DVD into my laptop, set up a towel on my living room floor, and sat down in front of the screen.

“Breathe in. Breathe in the energy from the earth through your sit bones, from the sky through the crown of your head. Breathe out the stress, the worries, the pain you might feel.”

I’ve never been one for new-agey meditation, but at that particular moment, I believed those words could help me.

And so I awkwarly transitioned from pose to pose, my mind centered on my alignment, my breath, my strength (and sometimes lack thereof). As I laid in Savasana, I could not locate any pain in my knees.

I felt I was on to something.

Running has many benefits. But it is also hard on the body, pounding twelve times our body weight into the ground with each of the 1750 strides we take per mile. Of course there are many intense yoga poses and flows (I certainly won’t be balancing on my head any time soon). But I’ve learned to love how accessible it is – with a bit of trial and error, there can be a style of yoga for each and every person, for each and every need.

I might be one of those people that isn’t meant to run. But I am coming to realize that everyone may be meant for yoga, me included. And today, I’ve finally decided that it’s time to leave my living room and brave a real class. I haven’t felt such nervous excitement since running left my life.

I really do think I’m on to something.

Do you practice yoga?

7.84 [runner's] high.

leslie — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:31:52 +0000

About a month ago, I learned that my left leg is about half an inch shorter than my right.

I also learned that my right hip sits higher than my left, and my left foot naturally supinates (that would be fancy speak for “tilts”) inward.

Talk about some major problems, right?

On Christmas Day last year, I woke up early before my parents arrived for our typical day of movies and Indian food. I toasted a couple pieces of grainy bread and slathered on peanut butter and banana. While digesting, I began to strap on my winter running gear: nylon leggings, long sleeved moisture wicking top, ear-protecting headband, warm wicking socks. I made sure I was adequately hydrated, had my emergency contact info and housekeys around my neck, had my Sauconys tightly wound and double knotted.

As I exited my apartment building, I smiled at the doorman. I was already wired, about to head out on my longest run to date. It was 51 degrees, windless, sunny. 51 felt crisp and refreshing in December.

For some reason, I had convinced myself that the city would be quiet on Christmas morning, so I thought it would be fun to run along Broadway, rather than sticking to the east or west sides as was typical for me. I had it perfectly mapped: Wall Street to Penn Station and back again.

Apparently I forgot about the overabundance of tourists that infiltrate Manhattan for the holidays. Just 6 blocks in, I was wishing for magical abilities to float through all the people obliviously gazing upward, feet planted firmly in the center of the sidewalks. Quickly realizing my Broadway idea was far-fetched, I turned west, beginning to zig zag my way uptown, sticking to less tourist-friendly streets.

A mile or so in, I found myself hitting a rhythm. My pace was comfortable, my breath even, my body warmed from the inside out. I passed the purse peddlers in Chinatown, the SoHo boutiques, the cobblestones of the West Village. As I reached my turnaround point, I spotted a clock – I had been running for a precise 40 minutes, and I felt I could go for hours more.

Later I would map out the route I actually took and discover that my zig zagging had added nearly a full mile to my planned run. 7.84 miles. I maintained an even 10 minute mile pace, an accomplishment of which I felt quite proud. Speed was never of great importance to me. I finished with a sprint and a grin on my face.

While coming down from euphoria on my walk back to my building, I noticed a small vibrating sensation behind my left kneecap. I didn’t think much of it; I had a couple days of rest planned. Running is tough on the body; tweaks and twinges are par for the course.

Six weeks later, vibrating had become grating, and one knee had become both. I took a break from running, went to physical therapy, became well acquainted with ice packs. I was cleared to start running again, and the pain returned. That’s when I was informed of my “skeletal misalignment.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever run again. I hope I will. But in a strange way, injuring myself was a good thing. It’s rare for me to be able to push myself the way I did while getting half marathon ready; my knees can’t handle it – yet. And so I’ve discovered that exercise doesn’t have to be about constantly conquering new goals.

For me, it’s about the high. That feeling when the rhythm hits, when the body generates its own heat, when the mind is focused yet clear. I don’t need to run to achieve that; I can do a host of other things. That was a lesson I needed to learn.