Chasing Myself

What happens when your greatest competition is your former self

I have been reflecting recently on the progression I am making in returning to running.

As many of you know, it has been a tough time lately. Dealing with an on-and-off injury that finally contributed to a lot of time off the last four months of last year (2024). However, I finally feel like I am back—well, kind of…and that is part of my issue.

One would think that you spend time away from the thing you love, and when you come back, the relationship should jump right back in where it is. When I think emotionally about running, my relationship has never been stronger. I had missed the time where I exhausted myself. I had missed being able to move my body in the way that I truly wanted to.

I MISSED RUNNING—from the deepest depths of my heart.

However, there was something beyond the emotional that felt off.

I had thought in my recovery that I needed to take time away from running completely. Let my Achilles feel better, rebuild from the ground up, and work my way back with a combination of strength and logging the miles. However, now that I am almost 6 months back, the progress feels so small.

I am realizing how much fitness I lost. How hard it is to run. How much the weight I gained during my time off because I didn’t care for myself is making things harder. But most of all, the hardest thing is not even competing against those that I see are faster or stronger.

The hardest part is competing with myself—more specifically, my former self. I feel like I should have been able to start right where I left off with running, not just emotionally but physically as well. What felt so easy, a year or so ago, now feels like it takes every ounce of energy I have. What was my easy before my injury and other issues is now what I might use for a speed workout (and it feels sooo hard).

I just keep on asking myself, why can’t I run like I used to?

A question that feels so foreign to me.

In my last return to run in 2019, I felt so free-spirited (in some ways—don’t get carried away haha), my goals were to feel great on the run. As I thought about goals, I considered that the PR’s from my youth were unlikely at this junction in my life. I figured my journey would progress and I could gain fitness, maybe even get some strong times.

However, I saw the light. I saw what was fully possible in that last time. I was right there, ready for a 1:30 half. I could feel the sub 40 min 10k. And the sub 20 min 5k was basically a guarantee.

And now that I have seen the potential, my brain wants to return to that so badly. In fact, in further reflection, I think that is one of the things that made my Achilles injury worse over the course of last year. Yes, I was resting it, but everything was about returning to the glory-filled feeling of setting those PR’s.

Now, as I return, that image of myself as a runner is one I struggle to get out of my head. It’s easy to see the crazy thing pros are doing and know that it is beyond my capabilities, but we are talking about my own achievements only a couple of years ago. My body hasn’t changed that much? Has it?

The thing is, runners play comparison games all the time (tell me you don’t get the surge of energy when passing someone on the trail or when someone comes to pass you). I’ve spent time on my podcast speaking against that comparison game. However, never did I think that the person I would try and compare myself against would be myself. I know it seems trivial, but it is where I am. You may think it easy to name that it is the past and I need to be comfortable and focus on my needs now—and I hear you, but the comparison is still there.

My brain tells me I have built a brand as a runner. I see myself at a certain pace. I see myself holding a certain ability, and it sucks that I can’t be there. I feel as though it affects my stride, my pacing, and my demeanor on the run. I can’t even blame my community for pacing this burden on me. I feel like I have done this to myself, and now any run and even any conversation feels contextual to “getting back to where I was.”

I am competing with the RunninRev of 2023.

I need to get back and be that. He looked so good. Ran so smoothly. He knew how to get it done.

However, now, over the past couple of weeks I have realized this, and I wish I had noticed sooner. I have felt the need to just let myself reside in the present—in my present abilities. It is tough to see a past version of ourselves that felt so healthy, and not think that we have to do everything possible to return as soon as possible, but as I am learning in running, that is not a linear journey.

Yes, there are things we can learn from our past, but it does not do us justice to force the past upon ourselves to make it return. Instead, we recognize where we are, and in many ways give thanks for our present abilities. It means to release our fixation on goals defined by that former place (even if just for a time).

I truly believe in my heart that I will run a sub 1:30 Half Marathon, but right now that is not me. I can’t even compare myself to the 1:33 I ran in 2023, and my fixation to be there now, isn’t going to help my present growth. I can look back on what helped me in those training cycles, without feeling the need to compare my times during that time. I can look at where I am and celebrate what lies ahead of me.

It doesn’t prevent me from setting great goals. It sets me up to give myself grace for not being where I was a couple of years ago.

“Are you chasing your past, or training for your future?”