By Caitlyn Germain
I started running when I was twelve years old. I was trying out for the field hockey team, and when I finished the three mile run without another person in sight, the cross country coach said, "I think you are trying out for the wrong sport," and without much thought, I switched and immediately found success.
Caitlyn collapses across the finish line, placing first in Central Massachusetts for the second consecutive year.
Running and racing came naturally to me, but the objective was always to win. It felt like people would think more highly of me when I won, and I thought more highly of myself. Reaching my goals was what mattered most. I found success at every level, winning championships in high school, college, and post collegiately. I've been inducted into the Hall of Fame for both my college and my high school. I actually had to drive six hours immediately after my high school induction because I had accepted an invitation to the Philadelphia Half Marathon the following morning. The induction ended at 11 PM, and the start of the race was 6 AM. Yeah. Do the math. It was crazy, but I didn't want to miss either opportunity to bask in the praise and be honored for being "fast." For that first decade and a half or so of my athletic career, that's how it was. I set a goal, I worked at it, I achieved it, and set another one. It always came easy.
Caitlyn stands with her late high school coach after getting inducted into the Hall of Fame.
Now, things are very different. There is nothing about my experience in this sport that I haven't reflected on and gone over with a fine tooth comb. I have rewritten over and over my appreciation for the small moments that I took for granted. I always thought the moments that I won championships would be the memories I'd hold most fondly, but from where I'm sitting now, that is far from the case. What I reflect on most are the simple moments of silence in the trails or nature, or even this polarizing and primal connection with the earth and all its elements up against the bustling city backdrop. There are the moments where I thought I maybe didn't want to go for a run, but when I got out there, the whole world stopped and slowed down except for me. Like seeing the love of your life for the first time, the world slows down and speeds up all at once.
In the last several years, I've slowly acquired calf injuries that seem to come out of nowhere and take months to heal. My first encounter with the beloved Great Cranberry Island came after one of these calf episodes. This race was one of the last positive experiences I've had running. I had to drop out that day, so that is saying something about the kind of environment in which the little island enveloped me in. At the time, I was still naive and didn't know how bad my calf "injury" would get or how difficult it would be to even find out what was and continues to be wrong. In hindsight, I should have soaked in those views of Acadia reflecting in the water beyond the sea of purple wildflowers, even if I had to run past that same spot for what seemed like hundreds of times.
Caitlyn just before dropping out of the Great Cranberry Island Marathon at 11 months postpartum.
That was about five years ago. Since then, my "injury" has gotten worse. I'm presently unable to run an entire mile without debilitating pain in my calf that stops me in my tracks. It's so gripping that I can hardly make the walk home. I can't even run up the "Rocky Steps" in Philly as I did after my Hall of Fame induction and half marathon double. I actually can't even run up my basement staircase, but not for lack of trying. Of course, I started with normal treatments like physical therapy, massage, chiropractic; I'm so far past that now. I have spent a lot of my free time researching doctors and conditions and answers for why this is happening. I've had scans from my brain to my toes with contrast and dyes. I've had tests where I run and get poked and prodded after I become symptomatic. I've been hooked up to pressure cuffs like some sort of lab rat. It's presumably something wrong with my arteries since some tests have suggested I lose blood flow to my feet after exercise. I'm currently in the process of saving money to get some experimental botox treatment halfway across the country since I have to wait until COVID is more under control to be seen in Boston for elective procedures. I'm willing to go to whatever length I need to even get a little closer to having a small slice of that runner's high heaven again, even if it's just from a long walk. Needless to say, this phase of my running career has been very different from the first and anything but easy.
Some scans on Caitlyn's hips suggested a potentially dangerous disease that can cause a brain aneurysm or early stroke, but the brain scans were thankfully normal.
Writing this is not for sympathy, though! I'm the type of person to always find the sliver of light and some kind of meaning in it all. There have been very hard moments, but I've taken up a new sport in the process. I've been rock climbing fairly consistently for the last few months and am finally feeling like I can focus on something other than my dysfunctional leg. With climbing, I can be a bit more careful with how much force I put on my calf. It has fine tuned how I move my body, and I have learned to focus intentionally on the next step. What a gift it has been! I spent so many years chasing and chasing and chasing goals; sometimes, goals left me broken. When we chase for so long, we forget to see the progress we've made along the way. I'm not very good at climbing. It's hysterical. I hate being bad at sports and have had to push myself really hard to not be embarrassed to try and fail over and over again. I can work on a route and only make the first two moves one week and maybe make three or four the next week. Sure, I still haven't made it to the top, but that measurable progress is so easy to see and so clear at this stage that it has shown me that I have never appreciated the process of running because I often was just able to soar right to where I wanted to be. I'm in a long phase of learning, and my next steps are unclear, but I'm sure I'll come away better for it all.
“It has fine tuned how I move my body, and I have learned to focus intentionally on the next step.”
Caitlyn working on the next step.
I very much miss running and the seemingly involuntary simpleness of one foot in front of the other and my breath going in and out of my searing lungs. Lately, I'm not the only one with running goals on hold. With canceled races from COVID, it might feel like there have been canceled dreams. But remember, our runs are about more than just finish lines, distance, and the time on the clock. They are an opportunity to connect with ourselves and the world. This is especially important at the moment we are in. This sport can help us escape from the pressures and tension of work, stress, and a global pandemic that seems to have no end and can remind us that we have to just take the next step and know that it is progress.
Caitlyn soaking in the scenery after the last hike with her kids before her calf didn't allow hiking anymore.
About the Author
Caitlyn Germain resides in Central Massachusetts with her two girls and her husband, who is the founder of SISU Project, a USATF New England Running Club. She has been teaching Special Education in Worcester, Massachusetts, for over ten years and is an online running coach for Up + Running Co., an online coaching business. She has been trying to find a diagnosis for a condition that has kept her from running for several years, but has taken up rock climbing in the meantime and has really enjoyed applying the lessons from running to a new sport and looks forward to applying lessons from her new sport back to running when she can resume her lifelong sport.
