There’s a silent agony that few outside running and other sporting communities truly understand — it’s the anguish of being forced to pause (or perhaps even stop forever) when your fitness is at its very best. When you are training for something, progress isn’t linear, but when you finally reach your peak, you feel unstoppable. You’re hitting personal bests, running feels easy, and you’re mentally and physically on a high.
Then, injury strikes.
This is what happened to me at the beginning of Jan 2025. I had a superb December and set a 5K Personal Best. Then, against my coach’s advice, I did a parkrun on an icy surface and twisted my knee, further compounding it by continuing to run even after I felt it “go”.
After that moment, I quickly came to understand that the physical injury was the least of my worries – the mental game became harder than any interval or hill I had ever tackled. Every missed run chipped away at my optimism, every missed parkrun felt like a personal tragedy – stolen joys. Strava mocked me, becoming a bitter reminder of what I was missing – FOMO on steroids! I watched my friends achieving their goals and personal bests, and though I genuinely celebrated their achievements, impatience and the sting of envy were ever present.
The internal dialogues become their own form of torture: “Am I losing all my fitness? Will I ever regain my speed and endurance? Have I reached ‘peak Tim’?” Rationally, I knew my knee should heal, although at my age and history of knee operations this was far from certain. Rationally, I understood that rest and recovery were critical. But rationality can’t blunt the emotional loss — the feeling that I was missing deeply fulfilling training sessions, social runs, and goals.
Key to getting through this was the trust I have in my running coach, Kat. She had “been there, done that” and despite what I wanted to do, which was to run through the pain, I listened to her, got stuck into gym sessions, and took time off running. Yes, it hurt deeply to wait out an injury after achieving the PB I had worked so hard for. But Kat reassured me: I will heal, I will strengthen, I will run again — hungrier than ever to chase my goals.
Surprisingly, amidst this painful break, there were positives. The forced pause made me appreciate even more the simple privilege of running and the pure joy that comes from running with a group of friends. My Insta feed is now full of people showing me “the top 5 exercises I’ll never stop doing to have pain free knees”, although whether or not this is a positive is somewhat debatable! I am less blasé about running through pain, and I have a deeper empathy for others facing setbacks. I value rest and recovery not as lost training time, but as essential building blocks to future success.
To every side-lined runner — hang in there. Use the time to build mental toughness, trust the recovery process, and remember — your training, your running groups, and parkrun will be waiting for you when you return!
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