I used to run a lot. I had to run frequently as a Soldier, and to my own surprise, I enjoyed it immensely.
Then, in 2012, I had hip surgery to fix a condition called “femoral acetabular impingement.” Basically, my femoral head and neck were enlarged, and years of frequent use had dug out the cartilage in my hip. By the time I hit the operating table, it was predominantly bone-on-bone. The surgeon planned to perform a procedure called “microfracturing” to stimulate scar tissue that would act as a barrier in place of the lost cartilage.
My surgery dragged on for over two hours. During the debrief, the doctor informed me that my acetabulum was too far gone for the microfracturing. He also had to remove over 30% of my femoral head and neck.
It’s important to note that I was training for a half-marathon at the time. I was regularly logging 8 to 12 miles several times a week, feeling in top shape, and keeping my long-run pace in the 8-minute range. I was confident I would have posted a great time... had I actually run it.
I fully expected to return to my cherished activity after a long six months of recovery. In a follow-up visit, I asked my surgeon about getting back out there and if I needed to take any precautions.
He looked at me and said, “You should never run again unless you want a hip replacement in the next ten years.”
WHAT!?
I know some non-runners reading this might be thinking, So what? Sounds like a great excuse not to run. But for runners? This news was heartbreaking.
Fat to Fit
I wrote an earlier post about how I used to be fat. You know how I got unfat? Diet and a whole lot of running. Running was my off-ramp from a place I didn’t want to be anymore.
When I first decided to join the Army, I had to get into some kind of shape other than “pear.” A two-mile run was one of the entrance requirements, so I hit the pavement. At first, I couldn’t make it a quarter mile without feeling completely winded. But with time, persistence, and maximum effort, I eventually hit that two-mile mark, albeit slowly.
When I shipped out for Basic, I could pass a PT test without killing myself. By the time I left Basic, I was running a 5:30 mile. Maybe not competitive by elite standards, but I was immensely proud of it. I had gone from sounding like a waking sleep apnea patient to blasting out respectable times. Overcoming that self-inflicted opposition was a major milestone. It proved I could do hard things, and I could do them entirely on my own. Running is one of the best sports in the world if your main goal is to compete with yourself.
I was absolutely at a loss after my surgery. But, if you’ve been reading Beard-Dad for a while, you know I eventually picked up endurance cycling, which has helped fill that void.
Come Play With Me
My wife was by my side through all of this. We got married in April of 2012, and I had my surgery in October of that same year. For years before and during that time, I had been gently trying to persuade her to run with me. I wanted to share this passion and open her eyes to what a wonderful experience running could be.
She never took me up on it. I don’t blame her; she had a lot going on with undergrad and, subsequently, grad school. Plus, if you’ve never run before, there is absolutely nothing appealing about it except the ability to smugly tell people, “I ran today.” Runners are just a different breed of CrossFitters. We have to tell everyone about it.
This entire anecdote is important because people and views change.
My wife and I don’t share many common interests, which I actually think is a good thing. I am a huge nerd. I love fantasy, sci-fi, video games, and miniature painting. I have an eclectic mix of hobbies, and my zeal for the things I love carries over into all aspects of my life. If I really like something, I desperately want the people I care about to like it too. Like what I like, damn it!
My wife, however, has turned out to be the yin to my yang. She doesn’t like anything that I enjoy.
Over time, I’ve come to terms with this. I’ve realized that if we actually shared all the same interests, we would never get anything done. It harkens back to my earlier years sharing an apartment with friends, where we’d spend every free moment having LAN parties, gaming into the wee hours of the night. Highly fun, highly unproductive.
My dear wife will have nothing to do with such shenanigans, and that carried over into the healthier aspects of my hobbies, too. Until it didn’t.
Revelations (Not Biblical)
A few years ago, my wife started working out. But recently, she has passionately gotten into running. Specifically, distance running.
WHAT!?
Yes, my wife has now run multiple half-marathons, 5Ks, and everything in between.
So yes, I find it deeply ironic that after years of bugging her to come run with me, she is now doing exactly what I wanted her to do... now, when I physically can’t do it anymore.
I even tried to get back into running a while back so that maybe, just maybe, we could finally share this one thing. If you’ve been reading for any length of time, you know that ended with me fracturing both knees. So that possibility, and likely any possibility of us ever running together, is fully out the window.
But with all of that out of the way, I’ll get to the real point: My wife loves running, and I couldn’t be more proud.
Beard-Dad Proud
I am over-the-moon happy for my life partner and in awe of all she’s accomplished. We may not be able to share the physical activity of running, but we can finally relate to the experience of it.
After she finishes, I always ask, “How was your run?” I do this because I genuinely care about what she’s doing and want to share in her experience. I’ve learned that this applies to all aspects of life. We don’t necessarily have to enjoy the same things to appreciate each other’s zest for them. Every time she finishes a race or achieves a new PR, I get to share in her excitement, and it’s a wonderful feeling.
I will probably never run again, but at least I get to relive that joy through someone I love. That’s pretty special.
Needless to say, I’m a proud husband. And hey, I was right about running all along… because I’m always right. ;-) Sometimes we just have to get there on our own time.
Dad out.