An injury to one, is probably just that, an injury to one – nothing more, nothing less.

Being an injured runner is a very lonesome space. Social media reminds you of who you used to be before the injury. Damn! It hurts very badly. Both physically and emotionally. You meet people and they stare at your severely multiplied self with disgust. Like “Why did you allow yourself to deteriorate to this?”. You feel the need to volunteer an explanation before anyone asks the dreaded question, “Why did you gain so much weight?”. The answer is standard “I broke my bum. The right butt cheek to be specific”.

It was going very well in my little running world until that moment I considered a personal victory. Suddenly without notice it all went south swiftly. From being at my peak in the second half of 2017 to pulling a sub-2 at Dis-Chem Half-Marathon 2018 and a 03:50:11 (gross) at Johnson Crane 2018. I loved being alive. Yet when I first attempted to pour my heart out onto paper it was difficult to finish writing this piece. I wondered whether this pain will ever leave.

I broke my bum the right butt cheek. At least that is what I used to call it.

What made this thing painful was that it hit hard when I tried to sleep. Sleeping on the side was impossible. Lying on the back was the best shot. So I decided to do the logical thing under the circumstances – to consult a professional.

“Osteoarthritis” said the learned physician. “However, that is an unconfirmed suspicion until we can ascertain with an MRI.”

“What?” That was me in complete shock.

After all it sounded like a senior citizens’ ailment. What business did a 39-year-old have developing a condition with words such as osteo and arthritis in it?

“Must be witchcraft” I thought.

Then the wise physician took some time to unpack it for me dispel the myth in my head. In the end it looked like his theories made sense. Waiting for the medical aid to approve the MRI was a lonely place like solitary confinement.

Many months later I eventually found the right orthopaedic surgeon who commissioned a few scans. After 40 minutes in the machine the first MRI was inconclusive. They had to inject ink into my hip to add colour to the scan. The results came back saying I have a tear of the “anterior labrum”. The month was May 2019. My sentence was to stay off my feet for a full six months. It did not end well.

Running and exercise in general had become my life. With them taken away I sank into a foul stinky state. I let go of myself. I distanced myself from everyone who represented running including my club. The year 2019 was a low point.

Then came 2020 COVID-19 and its Lockdown. At this point one was a bloated 90kg whale. To maintain a level of sanity while being locked down at home I joined the challenges which encouraged running around the house for two kilometres per day for 21 days. It was hard. Little did I know that this was the gradual push I needed to start small.

Suddenly something weird started to happen. The clothes grew bigger. Yes I did not shrink – they grew larger. On the other hand my bathroom scale also started malfunctioning and showed weird numbers. It all came to a boil when I took advantage of a special offer for a running watch. Suddenly there was Garmin Coach in my life.

I took a 13 weeks programme to train to finish 10km in 55 minutes. What a journey it was. Cold winter mornings midday running and an odd evening run here and there. Two other key factors contributed to the success of the program – healthy cooking and diversified exercise (beyond just running). Today weighing in at 79kg I am only 4kgs from rolling into a safe BMI category.

We live to run another day!