The zen of running with a THR

Let me digress

I know in past posts I have been focused on preparing for a hip replacement and recovery immediately after the operation but I would like to skip ahead in this post and talk about something that is on my mind. So humor me if you will.

I'll be talking about running with a hip replacement but what I'll be discussing is just as relevant to walking or getting about on crutches.

Running with a hip replacement is not something to do in your sleep.

Or at least I can’t anyway.

When my hip was sound I didn't exactly nod off as I ran but I could rely on my automatic pilot and instincts to protect me against injury. I often ran relaxed, daydreaming, knowing full well that my body was strong enough to deal with anything the trail threw at me or that I would see major obstacles coming and react in time.

Now though, my hip is not able to cope with anything I throw at it and I need to be wary and alert. Even obvious pitfalls can surprise me if I'm not careful.

Thinking about staying alert is not staying alert.

The other day I was running down an easy trail thinking about this topic and I began drafting this post in my head. Mulling over the consequences of being unprepared for the unexpected I tripped on the only tree root for miles and jarred my hip. I had to laugh at the irony but put the article planning on the back burner until my workout was over.

Since my hip replacement operation I've rediscovered the enjoyment of the running itself, and stopped seeing it as an opportunity for thinking, solving life's problems or daydreaming.

I used to be hyper-alert and on edge.

When I first started climbing mountains in my teens I couldn't get enough of it. The crunch of snow under my boots, the steady swing of my ice-axe as I cut steps, the smell of a cold, clean wind. I was fully alert and aware of the mountains and how I moved through them. There was a sense of urgency that kept me always vigilant.

As climbing became mountain running and the years passed, I could flow through the scree and trees for hours. My running became relaxed and automatic. It was as if I were driving the perfect body-machine that automatically made adjustments no matter how rugged and challenging the terrain. I loved it.

A hip replacement and re-learning to run.

The down-side of running on automatic pilot became obvious as soon as I tried to run on my new implant. My hip complained at the slightest jolt and I couldn't rely on my body thinking for itself any more. I realised that I would have to make decisions for it. Constantly.

My attitude would need to change if I wanted to continue to run. The consequences of jarring my hip or falling on it would be as devastating for my running as a plummet over an ice-fall. I would need to regain that constant awareness I had lost.

Has it changed how I feel about running?

Yes it has, this need to stay focused, to stay in the now as I run. I am less wild now, I run with less self-abandon, you could say I am tamer. But it has not been all bad.

Vigilance and caution has slowed me down but have brought with it an unexpected blessing. Gratitude.

I no longer take running for granted.

With each step comes a reminder of success. I am running though I could so easily have accepted defeat or been left too debilitated by the operation. A sense of achievement is my constant companion as I continue to search for new ways to keep going.

It's an on-going challenge though, this drive to stay focused. Two hours into a trail run I can be jolted by a dip in the trail or a hint of dull pain from my hip and I realise that I have drifted off again.

I have no choice if I choose to run. I must constantly run in the now.