Losing Feeling

Last summer I had the amazing opportunity to spend more time traveling and seeing the world than at home. I experienced and learned so much, but above all, I truly grasped how lucky I am to live the life I do. The city in which I live is much of a fairy tale in comparison to so many scenes I saw during my travels. The moment I grasped this truth was the moment I started to appreciate every single thing I am blessed to do each day. 

I don’t take for granted the fact that, every morning when I wake up, I get to shower, make a cup of coffee, have breakfast and drive to school. During the school day, I get to receive what my Anatomy and Physiology teacher coins, “a public-private education.” Then, once the bell rings at the end of the day, I always get to lace up my running shoes and run off anything difficult that happened that day, or just get outside and do what I love. 

Though a few days after my eighteenth birthday, after a series of doctor’s appointments, physical therapy sessions, X-rays, and an MRI, I was tested for Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome, in which you lose feeling in your feet and experience intense pressure in your legs. That day would rock my running world as I knew it. 

I tested positive, and not by slim margins. The readings were so high that my doctor was not just recommending surgery, he was already scheduling it. He told me if I wanted to continue running healthily and long enough to see myself in my college uniform, I needed the surgery. 

During the weeks following the test and also following surgery, I felt lost, alone, depressed. When I started back at school, I was in pain, frustrated, and felt unlike myself. I started to drop the ball on so many things, and then I would go to practice and watch my team do what I loved. I couldn’t run a mile and it is my senior year, the year I want to be my best. 

It wasn’t until I took a step away from my team to focus on myself that more than my legs started to heal. My broken spirit was recovering and I started to appreciate things like I once did before. I started to feel things again - physically, mentally, emotionally. 

Instead of being upset that I was left out of so many fun conversations and inside jokes with my team, I savored the moments I got invited to team get-togethers. Instead of watching my whole body deteriorate, I focused on what I could work on. Instead of being frustrated that I lost my whole indoor season, I checked in on my teammates, asked how their races went and what I could do for them. Instead of dwelling on all the weeks I couldn’t run, I would remind myself that this surgery allows me to continue running for longer than I had to rest. 

I think the appreciation I had for the life I lived before my surgery is why the procedure and recovery has been so difficult for me. I knew what I would lose and how much I would miss running. Though, all you can do in a time like this is to focus on what you can do. Remember the moments, people, and places that fuel the fire. See the mountains that you climb as an opportunity to gain new perspectives. And if you have to go through something like this, allow something positive to come of it. Gain new appreciation, never take anything for granted, and fight for what you love. Say thank you to those who help you, especially your coach. Don’t let anything knock you down, and remind yourself, you are a still a runner.

- Delaney Kemp (@delanekemp)