09/12/2025
We Runners Take It for Granted: Until Itâs Taken Away
Runners are a funny breed. We put our shoes on most days without thinking about it. We watch the watch, we measure the splits, we judge the run almost purely by the numbers that show up on the watch. And if those numbers donât match what we think they should be, if the pace is a little off, the heart rate a little high, the legs a little flat, we get disappointed. Sometimes even annoyed.
Itâs almost comical when you step back and look at it:
We can run, but we complain weâre not running fast enough.
The Quiet Gift We Forget We Have
Running is one of the greatest privileges we have. Itâs freedom. Itâs expression. Itâs the nervous system settling, the mind unwinding, the body doing exactly what it was built to do.
But we take it for granted.
Until injury hits.
The moment something breaks down, a tendon flares, a calf grabs, a back locks, a hamstring pulls, everything changes. Suddenly itâs no longer about PBs or Strava crowns. Weâd give anything just to jog slowly around the block. No pace goals anymore, no expectations. Just movement.
Itâs funny how quickly perspective shifts when something you love is taken away, even temporarily.
We go from âWhy wasnât that pace faster?â
to
âIâd kill just to run at any pace.â
Injury: The Great Humbling
Injury humbles you like nothing else. You start noticing runners out on the path and feel a mix of anger, frustration, envy, longing, and appreciation.
You watch someone shuffle along at what you once called an âeasy paceâ and think,
âI wish that was me.â
You realise how lucky you were, and not because you were fast or anything but because you were able to.
Itâs only when youâre forced to stop that you truly understand what running gave you:
A clear head
A sense of identity
A routine
A feeling of capability
A way to process life
And once youâve lost it, even briefly, you swear youâll never take it for granted again.
But Then⌠We Return to Old Patterns
And hereâs the ironic part.
Once we finally get back running, after all the rehab, the patience, the setbacks, the mental battles, what happens?
We slip straight back into the same habits:
Checking pace too often
Judging runs too harshly
Expecting too much too soon
Comparing ourselves to our old selves
Losing gratitude
Our brains forget quickly. Our egos get loud again. The simple joy of âjust runningâ fades, buried under the pressure of performance.
We return to chasing the perfect run instead of enjoying the fact we can run at all.
What If We Didnât Forget?
What if we held onto the perspective injury gives us⌠without needing the injury?
What if every run, whether fast, slow, messy, or magical, was treated as a privilege instead of a performance?
What if we remembered that:
A slow run is still a run
A bad run is still a gift
A tired run is still movement
And the body that disappoints us today is the same body that carries us through life?
Imagine how different our relationship with running would be if gratitude led and ego followed.
Running Isnât Just About Speed. Itâs About Being Able to just run.
Next time youâre annoyed because your watch didnât give you the pace you wanted, try this:
Touch your feet to the ground.
Take a breath.
Feel your heart beating.
Remember the time you couldnât run.
And remind yourself:
Being able to run at any pace, is something many people would trade their world for.
Slow isnât failure.
Itâs presence.
Itâs healing.
Itâs longevity.
Itâs the reason youâre still out there.
We donât need another injury to teach us this lesson.
We just need to remember the one we already learned.