#8. Can't run? Not a reason to quit.

Injuries during training are common. One benefit of triathlon is you can always dial back one sport while gaining momentum in the other two.

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.”

That quote, credited to runner and author Dean Karnazes, fits with the image of participants struggling across Ironman finish lines. But sometimes we struggle at the starting line—and even well before it.

In my last two chronological posts about training for my first half-Ironman 70.3 race, I shared how I struggled with swimming but managed, by week #9, to swim a full pool mile. (The race distance is 1.2.)

By week #18, I had progressed from an easy-peasy, gentle indoor bike of thirty minutes to being able to bike 33 hilly outdoor miles. (The race distance is 56.)

Wahoo!

Given that I still had fourteen more weeks to train, I was (don’t jinx it!) close to being on-track with two sports. But not with a third.

In early December, only two months into training, I began to experience sharp hip pain. Various joint and muscle injuries, plus sciatica, are nothing new to me—I’ve had them on and off my whole life. I don’t doubt I’d have the occasional sore knees and other joints even if I didn’t run. (Research has proven again and again that running can, in many ways, actually make knees stronger.)

But this particular pain was undeniable and persistent.

I treated it the way I treat my long-term dental health, the mess in our carport, and the thousands of unsorted photos on my phone. I mostly ignored it.

Ten weeks and about thirty hours of running later, the hip still hurt. I knew I should seek help, but I didn’t want to receive bad news—like the message that I simply would never get to compete in triathlons. Maybe I was too old. Maybe my body had already been through too much. Maybe some of us just aren’t athletic enough by nature.

Finally, I was forced to check in with my chiropractor/running doc, a man who spends far less time doing physical manipulations and more time handing out annoyingly good advice.  

“No running,” at all, he told me. “Not until you can walk for one hour, without even a niggle of pain, for two days in a row.”

That sounded easy. (Only two pain-free days needed!) And tough. (I hadn’t had a pain-free day in so long that I could barely remember what it felt like.)

But this doctor had been right before.

For nearly four years, I had chronic lower back pain that no other expert could fully diagnose or solve, even with an MRI and a myriad of minor interventions.

My running chiro was the one who asked me when it hurt.  

“Whenever I’m sitting.”

“Then don’t sit.”

“Never again?”

“Pretty much.”

And he meant it. That was the beginning of a major lifestyle change that involved a short period of zero sitting (not even in cars, for several weeks) until the pain abated by half, followed by a much longer period of very little sitting. To this day, I still work mostly standing up, sliding into bad habits occasionally, until I remind myself how fortunate I am to have recovered.

I accept my lower back issue as a lifelong weakness, but also a kind of gift—because once I’d researched the perils of a sedentary lifestyle, I realized I should have been taking movement breaks long ago.

I also paddleboard in the summer, because the same doctor prescribed it for me as a way to strengthen my core.

Now, he was telling me not to run, or even walk fast or long, if it hurt. Even though I had an Ironman in three months.

Reader, I listened to him.

I didn’t run for a week. Late in week two, I tried a short run. I felt a twinge and backed off. Another week passed. I tried another short run. I felt a twinge and backed off again.

Yet another week later, I was on vacation in the deserts of California and New Mexico. It was gorgeous. I wanted to run. I did run. The pain wasn’t terrible but it was consistent.

At home, I backed off again until the twinges and late-night aches went away.

It was not easy to wait and not worry, but something told me this latest obstacle was simply typical. In any training period, there will be setbacks, both physical and emotional. Learning how to work around them, I reasoned, was probably one of triathlon’s essential skills.

Only seven weeks before the Ironman was I able to start doing the kinds of runs I had once done: mid-distance runs that fell short of the half-marathon that would be required on May 29.  

I wasn’t the perfect rule follower. I did feel the occasional tiny echo of former pain. But overall, things kept getting better. My optimistic side chose to believe that the extra swimming and bicycling were speeding my running recovery. But if that wasn’t true?

Well….

On a follow-up visit, my doctor reminded me that if the pain came back and did persist, I wouldn’t end up doing the half-Ironman, of course.

“Of course not,” I said, thinking: Are you kidding me? Even if it hurts the whole time, I’m going to run! If I have to spend the rest of the year in a wheelchair, I am doing this race!

(So maybe Ironman training does make us a little crazy. Forget you read that part.)

As it turns out, my hip kept getting better.

By race day, I had run only eighty miles over thirty-two weeks—which works out to only 2.5 hours a week. In my normal pre-triathlon life, I would have been running twice as much.

But here was the amazing thing, and perhaps my first real understanding of why triathlon, rather than being a ludicrous pursuit, can sometimes be a sensible one.

With far less running mileage, you can still be in good running “shape.”

When you have an injury in one area, you can switch over to another sport and maintain basic aerobic fitness.

On top of that, many 70.3 and 140.6 participants speed-walk a lot of their “run,” as long as they have the time left to do so.

When a new acquaintance who had finished several Ironmans and even directed a handful of triathlons told me this “secret” for the first time, it felt like fireworks going off above my head. We’re allowed to walk—and not just a minute here or there, but as long as we want to? No one will hiss or throw garbage at us? This changes everything!

And of course, I still had the crawling option, as well.

But only if I had enough time left on the clock*.

*Generally 70.3s (half Ironmans) must be completed in 8 hours 30 minutes, with individual cutoffs after the swim and bike portions. 140.6 Ironmans must generally be completed in 17 hours.