One of my favorite quotations is by Jacob Riis: "When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stone-cutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without so much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred and first blow, it will split in two; and I know it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before." I love the image that Riis conjures here and the lesson that's provided. His words are a reminder of the importance of perseverance and dedication, and they offer a hopeful interpretation of failure. It seems clear that, for Riis, failure is only a temporary condition on the road to success. It's necessary for accomplishing virtually anything -- even the mundane task of splitting a stone.
I looked to these words often during the past two years. After my knee began giving me trouble in September '09, I've tried relentlessly to find a solution that would allow me to run again. I went to orthopedists; I saw chiropractors; I tried physical therapy; I received cortisone injections; I endured painful massages; and I did far more cross-training than I ever would have liked to. In as many months, I sought the opinions of 18 doctors and specialists. With the stone-cutter in mind, I kept hammering away, hoping that I would be rewarded for my persistence. There were many times that I tired of my efforts; but I invariably convinced myself that this stubborn stone just needed a few more blows before it cracked.
Finally, though, I'm admitting defeat. Things just don't seem to be working. After a 7-mile run last Saturday, my knee pain is back. It's fine for walking and it'll be okay for recreational activities, but it's definitely not going to hold up for a summer's worth of collegiate cross country training. At this point, I'd probably be able to train seriously for another week or so and then the discomfort would become unmanageable. I know my body well enough by now to know that that's the reality of the situation.
So I'm officially done with my college running career. I had very high hopes of competing for one final time this upcoming season, but apparently it's not in the cards. My knee simply refuses to handle the training that's required of me. I'm tempted to keep pushing on and trying to fix it, but all these efforts have been very emotionally draining. Repeatedly getting my hopes up and committing to treatment after treatment -- only to see them all fail -- has been incredibly demoralizing. I don't have any huge desire to go through that again.
I was fairly depressed about this decision last week. Running has been the most constant thing in my life for over ten years. It's given me a true sense of identity and has been enormously influential in shaping the way that I view the world. I'm not sure what I'll do without it -- even if this hiatus is only temporary. At this point, I'm trying to convince myself that a lack of running will open up a whole new world of opportunities for me. If I really think about it, I have no doubt that this is true. Running has always held me back in some regards: it's limited my social life, it's made me more cautious about the physical activities that I partake in, and it's always taken up a huge portion of my time. But, to be honest, I'll sincerely miss these "disadvantages" of being a runner. I absolutely love the discipline that running demands. Over the years, I rarely found myself yearning to enter the party scene or to stop making the sacrifices that I'd become so accustomed to making. It really became central to who I was. It will be strange to lose that dimension of my life.
Even worse, though, is the feeling that I'm giving up on something. I'm a stone-cutter that's learned to see the futility in his hammering. Considering how much I've admired Riis's quotation, it kills me to admit that. But, at the same time, I'm reminded of another saying: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." I think I've reached the point that a hard-headed refusal to accept defeat would only be holding me back in other regards. This, far more than the emotional exhaustion, is the reason I'm going to start moving on.
It's slightly comforting to know that my personality won't change drastically just because I step away from running. I always think in terms of discipline, of endurance, and of teamwork. I'll find another way to channel those energies; I'm sure about that. I cannot separate myself from the sport I love, even if I can no longer do it seriously. I've been largely formed as a person through running, and I know that the lessons it's taught me will carry over to every other aspect of my life.
Now, it's just a matter of finding something else to be passionate about. The search will be a little bittersweet, as I was always entirely content with running occupying that position. But there are bigger stones that I can begin hammering away at; and there are stones that are not so contingent on physical limitations. With failure and frustration on my mind, I'm far hungrier than I otherwise would have been.
These days, I have every intention of finding something significant to do with my life and splitting that stone down the middle -- even if it takes me a thousand blows to do so.
PS -- Happy birthday, Katie!!! <3
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