Injuries…. We’ve all been there. If you’re a runner who hasn’t ever been sidelined with an injury, I’d love to meet you because you must be a superhuman.

When runners get injured, we usually recognize that this is part of the sport. There have been many injured runners before us, there will be many after us, and we will probably be in this position again. It’s just the nature of a sport that involves so much repetitive motion, pounding on the pavement mile after mile. But that little bit of comfort we feel in knowing that we aren’t alone is usually overridden by the anxiety, confusion, and even depression that comes with being an injured runner.

I’ve seen injury first-hand from my own experiences (many of them…), my teammates experiences, and as an intern in the Sport Injury Rehabilitation Clinic in graduate school. I know very well that athletes derive a significant portion of their self-worth from sports, and that an injury that prevents them from participating can be a threat to their basic identity. Thus, leaving them to experience an identity crisis and various mood disturbances (that anxiety and depression mentioned above). This is why it is important to prevent, or at least acknowledge identity foreclosure early on in order to reduce that feeling of loss.

I was fortunate to go most of my college career without a serious injury. Which was amazing considering I was in the deep trenches of anorexia, not doing my bones any favors. But when injury did strike in the first race of my senior year, I experienced all of the emotions and challenges mentioned above.

Junior year had been pretty victorious for me, and I was extremely happy with what I had accomplished. But I wasn’t satisfied. I was hungry for more, and my senior year was supposed to be my chance to accomplish it all. To claim more records, to get noticed in a larger arena, and to win the Atlantic 10 Championship meet which was to be held at my favorite course in Richmond, VA. And it was all supposed to start with a win at the Little Three Invitational which was being hosted by my school, St. Bonaventure University (SBU), for the first time since my freshmen year.

I had a great summer of training, I was familiar with the course (not only from practicing on it, but from helping to create it), and I had the advantages of not sitting on a bus for hours before the meet, of sleeping in my own bed night before, and of having so many friends and family members coming out to cheer me on. I was so psyched to perform in front of my classmates and to cross the finish line first on my own campus. I’m not typically one to assume or expect a victory… most would probably say I’m pretty humble and I definitely lacked confidence. But for this particular race (a very small meet with only two other schools competing against SBU) I was expected to win not just by my coach and teammates, but by the other two teams competing that day, their coaches, and all of my friends and family members who showed up to watch.

All of that excitement turned into soul crushing heartbreak the moment I bolted from the starting line. I felt a pain in my left leg and knew I was in trouble. But I had to keep going. I had to finish, because I believed that not giving 110% to my sport meant that I was undedicated, weak, and a failure. I continued on, feeling sharp and shooting pain with each step I took. I knew I wasn’t running as fast as I should have been, I knew that I probably was not going to win, and I knew that I was doing some serious damage continuing to run in such pain. But I wasn’t going to drop out.

I ended up finishing in second place that morning, collapsing to the ground as soon as soon as my foot crossed the line. I had trainers coming over to me, packing my leg in ice and asking me all kinds of questions. I was an emotional wreck and hobbled away from that meet on crutches.

After an x-ray and MRI I learned that I had broken my fibula. Not a stress fracture, a totally broken bone. I’d be on crutches and in an air-cast for months.

I was completely devastated. I had such big plans for the season. My LAST season. I had invested so, so much into my training and had dedicated almost my whole being to the sport. I was “Kerry the Runner.” And now what? I was having an identity crisis and I felt depressed.

So what did I do? I spent that season staying involved with the team and the sport in every way possible. I was present at all practices and meets, I hosted team bonding events, and I did everything I could to keep in shape. I became a compulsive arm cycler (yes, that’s a thing…) and later when I was cleared to do so, an aqua jogger. I remained committed to my sport in every way possible because my sport was who I was and I needed to find a way to keep that identity. Not to mention, if I wasn’t running I needed to figure out a way to burn some serious calories each day and maintain my small size.

I realize now that I never coped with that injury. Instead, I went into crisis mode doing everything within my power to protect my size and my identity. I didn’t want to stop and feel the emotions that come with being an injured athlete, because I knew I wouldn’t like them.

What I learned later through books, podcasts, and most importantly my graduate program in Athletic Counseling is that a very productive way to have spent some of that time as an injured athlete would have been to work on my mental game.

If I had dedicated some of that time that I was obsessively jogging in the pool or running with my arms for hours to developing mental skills like imagery, positive self-talk, stress management, energy control, and realistic goal setting I could have come back from that injury as a mentally stronger athlete and person.

Staying in decent physical shape when you are injured is important, too, especially when you are a college athlete. So I don’t necessarily regret pouring some of my time and energy into cross training workouts. And maintaining a connection with my team was something I valued and needed, too. I was still the captain of the team, and wanted to be sure I was excelling at what I had been chosen to do even if I could not be out there sweating with the other women. But I certainly would have benefited from talking with a counselor, sport psychologist, or mentor to work on mental training and to strengthen my identities outside of “the runner.”

I wish I had taken some of that time to learn how to counter negative self-talk, develop a growth mindset, learn the difference between physical and mental fatigue, gain confidence, and strengthen other parts of my identity. If I had worked on those things I would have not only become a much better athlete, but more importantly a much more balanced and well-rounded human.

These are the lessons we often learn the hard way, and it’s easy to look back on those times and say, “I should have…” But in the moment, you are just hurt. Mentally and physically hurt. And it is ok and important to allow yourself to feel those difficult emotions and sit in that hurt for a bit. But it is also important to eventually pick yourself up, recognize your self-worth outside of sport, and work on your mental game.

Being injured is never going to be easy. But your entire self-worth does not take a hit every time you are sidelined. A favorite Ted Talk of mine is Janine Shepherd’s, “A Broken Body isn’t a Broken Person” and I highly recommend giving it a listen.

If you’re an athlete struggling to cope with an injury, I’d encourage you to use this time to do some mental training. You can do this through books, podcasts, blogs, or talking with someone. If you think you could benefit from some one on one mentoring visit my page here.