Streaks and Struggles, Part 1

I didn’t set out with a goal for a run streak; it just kind of happened. And once I noticed it and thought about it more, it became a thing. Then my brother told me about a website run by Streak Runners International (runeveryday.com) that tracks the longest run streaks in the world, and I knew I had to keep going. Not to compete with the people who have run for 7, 10, 20+ years straight…but to simply make it on the list. To make it on the list, you have run at least one mile, 365 days in a row. One year without missing a day. That became the new goal.

After I hit 100 1-mile runs, a running friend asked, “Isn’t it getting easy?” I hated to admit it, but yes, it was. So, I decided to run 100 2-mile runs next. That’s when another friend said, “You’ve got more in you.” Challenge accepted. I then decided to run 100 3-mile runs in a row. It dawned on me that if I made my goal 3.1 miles, it would sound cooler to say 5K-a-day. So, I currently have two run streaks to maintain. Goal #1: run every day. And Goal #2: run 100 5K’s.

The first 5K was great. I signed up for a local race to kick off the new goal and got 3^rd in my age class. I suppose that’s one of the perks of getting older. It turns out you are a “master runner” if you are over 40. Ha! I’ll take it! By sheer luck of birth year, I’m now a jack of all trades, master of…ALL? 😉

5K’s #2 through #13 were a little tough as my body adjusted to the increased mileage every day. Tough, like I tried to talk myself out of the goal and wondered what the heck I was doing. ‘Just run your mile and be done, guy.’ But I kept at it, and at 5K #14, I started to settle in. Each day that went by, I could feel I was getting more fit.

That is, until 5K #24…Run Day #224. My foot was on fire. Sometimes when I set off to run, my first step or two hurts as my stubborn body is trying to tell me to go home. Then, after a few steps, it usually says something like, ‘Fine…just go. I’ll try to get you to quit tomorrow.’ But on this day, my foot didn’t bounce back. The pain was so intense in the ball of my left foot that it felt like I was running on sharp rocks. I got to the end of the street and stopped. In all my days of running, this was the first time I stopped. Many times, I’ve wanted to, but this time I had to. What in the world was going on? I fumbled with my watch to figure out how to pause my time. Then I stretched my foot. Then I had a serious mental dilemma. I’m so close to home, I could pack it in. But I’m so far into this run streak goal, I don’t want to give in. I thought about “doing hard things” and what that means for so many different people. I was in pain, but I decided that my pain, in comparison to what others have been through, wasn’t the same. I could go on. I had to go on, for myself and those in a much tougher fight. I restarted my watch and continued, limping along the first mile, loosening up some in mile two, and by the third mile, the pain was mostly gone. It was my slowest 5K yet, but I celebrated the win that day, feeling like I had crossed a new threshold of resilience and pain.

My optimism lingered later that day while walking and limping, and pausing between steps on campus. My foot was throbbing. I was starting to get nervous about the next day. One of the perks of my job working in college athletics is having access to athletic trainers, often just to pick their brains. I decided it would be a good idea to ask a few questions about my pain.

I flagged down one of the trainers and explained my situation. I said, “Hey, I’ve got a question. I recently started running, and I pretty much haven’t stopped since. But I started having sharp pain on the ball of my foot today.”

“How much are you running?” he asked.

“Currently, three miles. Every day.”

“Well, maybe you should rest a little?”

“I can’t,” I said. “It sounds funny, but there’s this running streak website where some people have run 5, 10…one guy 50 years in a row.”

He chuckled, “There are like 8 billion people on the planet and one guy has run every day for 50 years…”

“Yah, I know…but I’m not trying to be him. You have to run 365 days straight just to make the list. I’m trying…to do hard things.” I point to the athletes in the training room. “Just like these guys are.”

“Yes, but they are 19…20 years old and their ‘why’ is different.”

“True…but my mileage isn’t even close to what they run, and my ‘why’ is different. I’m not trying to win races. I’m trying to prove to myself I can get up and do it…that I can push past limits. Right now, I’m just trying to make that list.” There was a pause in the conversation as he contemplated what I said. Then I asked, “Tell me something, why did my foot start to feel better on mile 3 today?”

At this point, he saw my determination and knew I wasn’t going to budge. He smiled and said, “Congratulations, you’re officially a runner.” We shared a laugh, and then he continued, “I get it. This means something to you. I respect that. Let me show you something.” He opened his hand to mock the bottom of the foot to teach me about the three main tendons that run down the two sides and the middle of the foot. “If you stretch these, roll a golf ball on those below the spot that hurts, it will help loosen things up. That and good sleep, a little ice, and maybe backing it down to a mile a day until it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“What about my shoes?” I asked.

“How many miles do you have in them?”

“550ish”

“Ha! Toss those! Shoes should only go about 300. You don’t need something super soft, you just need more padding than you’ve got left on your shoes right now.”

Roger that. Swap the shoes. Stretch. Ice. Sleep. I got this.

Later that day, before I left to go home, I pulled one of those high-mileage 20-year-olds to the side and asked him about my pain.

“Have you had it there before?” I asked.

“No, not so much there, but it’s better on the bottom than the top,” he said.

“How do you know the difference between pain and injury?”

“You just get to know your body, but for me, if I feel better as I go, it’s a sign it’s more pain than injury. If it gets worse, I’ve learned to back down to avoid more serious injury. It sounds like you felt better as you went. Stretch, ice, rest…sleep is good.” After saying that, he smiled, like a kid telling an adult (master runner) something they already knew. “You got this, dude. Keep it up.”

This was just what I wanted to hear.

When I got home, I did a quick internet search of foot pain, and sure enough, the first thing I found described it perfectly. Metatarsalgia. The symptoms matched, as well as the suggested treatment from what I heard earlier. It’s not that I needed confirmation (I trust my guys), I just wanted to learn more about what was going on and what it could lead to if not taken care of. Increased knowledge of the issue would help me push past metatarsalgia and at the same time do what I need to do to avoid someotherkindofalgia.

I didn’t back down the mileage, 5K #25 started slow, but the stretching and ice, and rest the night before did wonders. The pain persisted, but I was loosening up on the first mile, which was a noticeable difference from the day before, and I finished in a much stronger time. I was learning my body, pushing my body, and taking care of my body. This is new territory for me.

This is the hidden truth behind doing hard things. Pushing past pain (or fatigue, or frustration, or laziness, or worry, or whatever it might be holding one back) opens new doors, new opportunities, new insights that one wouldn’t have found if they didn’t persevere and push through. I’m seeing this and learning this firsthand as a runner. Ultimately, I hope that I take the lessons I learn from the ups and downs of running and apply them to all areas of my life.

I hope the same for you, in whatever streak and struggle you find yourself in. Life is full of them. And as my dad always says, our job is to “Keep on, keeping on.”

You got this!

AP