Monday night is always track night in my schedule. For the first two years of actually training as a runner and having Tim as my coach, my golden rule was to never miss a Monday. So whether I was resting, injured, or training, if I wasn't away racing I was there. It became the cornerstone of not only my running progress but also my mental approach to training.

These past few months, with an injury more severe than I have ever had, I initially told myself I would continue to go. I rocked up on crutches, cheered along, and I did enjoy being around my crew and friends. However, it got to the point though where stubbornly following my golden rule was becoming detrimental to the other training I had to fit in and studies, so I stopped going. I was surprised to find it did help to just separate myself from running for a while, so I could make peace with the fact that it wasn't my reality right now, and add to the mental fire building within for when I did come back.

Separating myself was the best thing I could have done, because it gave me the night that was Monday 29th July 2019. It had been 15 weeks since my injury and 17 weeks since I had last run at a Crosbie Crew Monday night session. By no means was I doing anything spectacular, just 10 times 30 seconds run/90 seconds walk. But as I was walking a few laps of Olympic Park as warm up, I marveled at just how far away all this felt not too long ago. I was here, where it all started for me, and where I will continue to find my greatest supports and greatest progression. I was able to do the crew warm up drills. Listen to the pre-session banter. Feel included in the anticiapation again. Then as the crew set off for whatever session they had on for the night, I set off for my run walk.

As I began with a 90 second walk portion, I was actually scared shitless. What if it hurt? What if I couldn't remember how to run? What if I got so tired I couldnt even do 30 seconds? With 15 weeks between runs, everything felt so new. But my watch ticked over 90 seconds and like a well conditioned puppy I hit lap and set off at a run. Docs orders were not to slowly trudge along, but to hold myself in good form and run freely. So I did just that.

The first 30 seconds felt like I was a baby girraffe taking my first steps, and at least in my mind must have looked like it. Then, with each successive 30 second run I found my stride, grew in confidence, and by the third rep the tears were coming. I was running. After 105 days without one of the things I love most in life, I was back. The walks became me just trying to compose myself between bouts of running, and I knew I was getting faster and faster but I was so, damn, happy. Nothing was hurting. Despite the foreigness of it all again, I felt strong, and capable. Everything I love about the movement was reawakening in me.

The tenth rep came and passed, with me probably running a bit too fast but I had no idea what pace I was moving, only that it felt amazing. As I stopped my watch, I sat down on the wet grass away from coach and anyone watching and just took in the moment. Then as always on a Monday, I got up and cheered on the rest of the crew that were still working hard in their tight knit groups, getting the best out of each other.

Injury is a long road, and many times it can feel like everything is lost and you will never be who you were before. Everything is never lost, our bodies are more amazing than that and hold onto much more of our prior training adaptations than our minds convince us when we are forced to take a break. But the thought that you will never be who you were before is true. Play your cards right, be smart with cross training, listen to those supporting you, and reach out when you need help. Then, you sure won't be who you were before. You will be wiser, stronger, more resilient, and have a deeper love for the sport you were kept away from than you would have ever had otherwise. Stay the long path, persevere through the setbacks, and you will come back not worse off, and not even the same. You will be better.

Still We Rise.