This Season Still Counts

The truth is, being injured sucks.

It’s been months since I’ve laced up my shoes and hit the pavement.

What’s harder is watching everyone around me still running—training for races, showing up to group runs, doing the thing I can’t do right now.

The FOMO is real.

It’s frustrating.

And sometimes, the doubt creeps in.

Will I get to run again?

How much longer will this take?

Will I be starting over from scratch?

It’s hard to accept being injured when running has been such a big part of my life.

With all this pent-up energy and frustration, I knew I had a choice to make.

I could either sit in it—feel sorry for myself and do nothing.

Or I could find a different way to show up.

When I was running, there was structure. Routine. A rhythm I didn’t have to think about.

Now, it looks different.

Looser. Less defined.

But there’s still a commitment.

A promise to myself to do something—no matter how small—every day.

Showing up right now looks like:

• Going to physical therapy and actually doing the exercises at home

• Lifting weights twice a week

• Yoga, rowing, biking

It’s not running.

But it’s something.

And it counts.

In some ways, it counts more than I realized it would.

Because it’s building strength and flexibility in ways I never prioritized before.

There are still days where it doesn’t feel like enough.

Days where I question if any of this is actually making a difference.

But maybe this is what I needed to see all along—

That there’s more to being a runner than just running.

That strength work, mobility, and cross-training aren’t extras.

They’re part of it.

They always were.

No matter what, I’m still a runner.

I’m still an athlete.

Even here.

Even now.

This is just a different part of the journey.

A season I didn’t plan for—but one I’m learning to work within instead of against.

I’m not just doing this to pass the time until I can run again.

I’m building something.

Strength.

Discipline.

Consistency.

Patience.

I’m becoming stronger. More well-rounded. More resilient.

What I’m building now will carry me forward later.

This is the foundation I didn’t know I needed.

The work I probably should have been doing all along.

I’m also learning that what worked in the past doesn’t always serve me now.

That growth doesn’t always look like forward motion.

Sometimes it looks like rebuilding.

Like slowing down.

Adjusting.

Rewriting the route.

The idea of starting over makes me nervous.

If I’m being honest, it scares me a little.

But I’m starting to see it differently.

This isn’t a setback.

It’s a reset.

A chance to come back stronger, with a better foundation than before.

I’m not losing time.

I’m preparing for what’s next.

I still miss running.

That hasn’t changed.

But I know this isn’t the end of that story.

It’s a pause.

A rebuild.

And this season—

this season still counts.

I’m learning to love the athlete I’m becoming, not just the one I was.