complexity of a runner: a chemical persepective

One of my favorite classes in college was organic chemistry. I found myself captivated by the intricate process of transforming compounds, starting with one and journeying through a series of reactions, each step adding catalysts and reactants until a completely new compound emerged. Yes, I'm fully embracing my inner nerd here, but bear with me, because this analogy circles back to the world of running.

Take the process to make ibuprofen:

At each stage of the process, the compound undergoes fundamental changes, evolving from its initial form to a completely different structure. While the alterations from one compound to the next might appear subtle, they represent significant transformations. Similarly, each compound in the chain relies on the preceding steps to become what it is in the present. Without each individual reaction along the way, the final product would be impossible to achieve.

Now, let's transpose this complexity onto the world of running. Imagine yourself as an organic chemistry problem, where each reaction represents an injury sustained along the way. Picture the first substrate as your younger self, devoid of any major injuries. The first reaction occurs when you experience your initial significant injury, perhaps an ankle sprain. Though you eventually recover, you're not quite the same as before, transitioning to the next stage. The subsequent injuries—a torn ACL, followed by a hamstring strain on the same side, then a back injury, and finally, a yearlong battle with plantar fasciitis—culminate in your current state.

I share this analogy because I believe that each major injury leaves an indelible mark, altering us in profound ways, for better or worse. We cannot fully understand your current struggles, such as plantar fasciitis, without acknowledging the chain of injuries that preceded it. Over time, pain and injury prompt us to modify our movement patterns, often without us realizing it, and these adaptations may persist long after the initial injury has healed.

This doesn't mean that we must scrutinize every past injury in the present moment. Rather, it underscores the importance of examining the entire movement system. Plantar fasciitis, for instance, may be the culmination of multiple 'reactions' along the way, influencing how we move, where stress is distributed, and how our soft tissues are affected.

The complexity of a runner is underscored by this series of events, each building upon the last, compounded by the myriad of life experiences that contribute to our overall complexity. While being sidelined by injury can feel disheartening ("my body is betraying me"), it also presents an opportunity for self-discovery. I'm reminded of the adage: "don't waste your injuries." To me, this emphasizes the importance of learning from our setbacks, understanding what led us down the path of injury, and striving to emerge stronger and more resilient than before.