“What surprised you about the race?” my coach asked during our New Year's call. I had just completed the JFK 50-miler, and the answer was easy— “My left heel didn't bother me at all!”
Just three months before race day, I'd been hobbling out of bed each morning, wincing at the pain in my left heel. As a physical therapist, I knew enough to be dangerous—my mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios. Achilles tendon rupture? Do I need to stop running? What if I can’t toe the line in November?
Here's where the story gets interesting.
Instead of prescribing rest, my performance coach said, “Keep moving.” My fingers loosened their grip on the phone, and I grinned. He added 20-30 minutes of targeted calf-strengthening exercises to my weekly routine—simple enough.
Training continued, though not without doubts. Some mornings I'd wake up limping, others surprisingly pain-free. My Achilles was reminding me not to skip those strength training exercises.
I’d worked with my coach for a long time. I trusted the plan. I stayed consistent. The pain-free mornings became more frequent. My stride felt stronger.
Then came race day. 50.2 challenging miles—plenty of time for any weakness to reveal itself. Mile after mile ticked by, and my Achilles held strong. Not a twinge, not a complaint even after the Appalachian Trail. The same heel that had me worried sick three months earlier carried me toward the finish line.
But the real surprise? I could walk the next day. Yes, really walk! This body of ours— the same one we sometimes curse and doubt— was capable of incredible adaptation when given the right tools and trust.
So here's what I learned or maybe relearned. Those niggles and pains that feel like stop signs? Sometimes they're just your body asking for something more or something different—in my case, more strength training focused on the calf-muscle complex.
With the right guidance, patience, curiosity, and consistent work, what seems like a roadblock might be a detour to becoming stronger. Thank you coach for your guidance and for being in my corner.
And if you're dealing with your own “Achilles heel” right now —whatever it might be —remember my limping mornings that turned into 50.2 strong miles. Progress isn't always linear but can still be positive. Trust the process.
Thank you for being here,
Julie
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Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
Oh Julie, I'm sure going to 'trust the process'! Fantastic!
This has been such a wonderful series of posts - I've enjoyed every step of your race, and even though I've been running it while sitting down at a screen I'm so grateful that you've taken your readers the whole way with you.
Really looking forward to the writing session later!
Bodies need check-ups
We prefer to maintain cars
Have we lost our way?
Fabulous story Jules. Especially because it is non -fiction. The right coach with the right experience, knowledge and insight is invaluable in a culture that has forgotten how to care for itself. We have lost our tool boxes. Indeed an ounce of prevention...‼️👣‼️