Dear Elder Jeppson,
Years ago, when I started to run for exercise, I only ran
outside – mostly along trails or backroads around my house. When winter rolled around, I joined a gym and
started to run on a treadmill. The first
time, I was thrilled at the ease and increased speed and stamina I felt compared
to running outside. I was able to both
increase my pace and run further than I could outside. Not fully understanding all the things that
were taking place, I simply was happy with what I assumed was my own increased
ability. I ran on the treadmill all
through the winter and when spring came around, I decided to continue to use
the treadmill instead of returning to the trails because it was making me feel
so strong.
Over that spring, I continued to increase in ability and
fitness and was feeling amazing. When the
next winter rolled around though, I began to experience severe pain in my lower
legs, shins and calves. It was a sharp
piercing pain that shot through my whole legs on every impact of my feet. It became bad enough that I could not
run. I would rest for a few weeks and
try again, and the pain immediately returned.
After almost a full month of trying to get to heal, I finally went to a
sports medicine specialist. He did some
x rays and determined that I had developed sever compression fractures in both
my legs. He further explained that this
kind of injury is common among those that run exclusively on a treadmill
because of the lack of variation in terrain. The sameness of the treadmill deck and the
fact that every single impact of my legs was the exact same flatness, speed and
angle was really rough on my legs. He
advised that my legs actually needed the variety and undulation of the real
ground and even better if it involved dirt trails, logs, inclines and changing
density of ground. After months of not
running to allow my fractures to heal, he advised that I start running again,
but run outside on dirt trails. When I
did this, I was surprised at how different and challenging running outside
was. The resistance of the wind, the incline
of the ground, the need to always be observant of my foot placement – it all
amounted to a make running significantly harder and slowed down my pace. But surprisingly, my legs and feet felt amazing. They became stronger because of the
undulating trail and various ways each stride impacted the ground.
As I continued to train, my pace and strength
soon exceeded the point I had reached on the treadmill. Not only were my legs and overall running
ability being strengthened, but it was actually protecting myself form injury
by running on the trails. At times, the
running outside got muddy, messy, icy or difficult enough that I had to slow
down to a walk, but each time, I remembered how bad the treadmill had injured
me. I remembered the danger of the
sameness. In the end, I was actually
safer from injury by foregoing the easy treadmill and facing the additional
challenges of running outside.
This whole experience had been on my mind lately. I can’t stand the treadmill anymore. In fact, I call it the dreadmill. There are so many beautiful life lessons in
this parable. There’s a deeper lesson
than your standard old slogan of choosing the more challenging route to
experience growth. What I learned here
that was so unexpected and something I truly believe applies to our lives is
that when we seek the easy way, the way that comes without hills, headwinds,
splattered mud and tripping hazards, we risk serious set back and injury. Our bodies and spirits are healthier and
happier when our route undulates and is constantly adapting to challenges. It’s the little bumps, roots and mud puddles
that protect us form the compression fractures brought on by the repetitive,
mundane-ness of the easy road.
I hope when life deals you a trail that is filled with these
ups and downs, or a bit of a headwind, you’ll remember to not be too worried
about meeting your expected pace and being okay with walking or resting and
remember that it’s this very road that will protect you from the dangers of easy
street.
I love you. Keep going! I’m proud of you and know that this is definitely
not treadmill running. I hope this little
parable helps you.
Love Dad.
