You’ll find a lot of chatter on social media about what occupies people’s minds when they run.  It runs the gamut from those who immerse themselves in music, to those who mull over their toughest problems, to those who choose not to think at all.  For me, a pattern has emerged over the years, somewhat by accident.  Something will spark a thought – an event, a conversation, a personal experience – and it will gather steam every time I hit the pavement.   I’ll bat the same topic around for weeks until I either reach some sort of conclusion, or the ideas just wear themselves out for lack of substance.

Over the last few weeks, the topic on my mind has been fear.   Fear, one of the most basic of human emotions, can be responsible for driving intelligent, decisive action, or it can create a debilitating, paralyzing state.  How does the same emotion inspire such dramatically different reactions?

To pull this apart a little, I will use a personal example.  For 15 years, I ran without injury.  It wasn’t because I did anything particularly smart to ensure my health; I was merely reaping the benefits of genetics and good fortune.  Then 2 years ago, after a year of baffling foot pain, I broke my 2^nd metatarsal and had to endure four interminable months of no weight-bearing activity while the bone knit back together again.  Then a year later, I suffered a crippling knee injury while running the Hana Relay in Hawaii.  This injury had the double whammy of being both excruciatingly painful and puzzling.  Multiple doctor visits and diagnoses later, it was finally determined that I had developed arthritis in the kneecap and had experienced my first acute flare-up.  The medical advice I received was sound, but incomplete. Totally frustrated, I decided to pursue my own path to healing.  I read everything I could get my hands on about running with arthritis, targeting medical experts who were runners themselves.  I tried so many different approaches that it’s hard to say which one of them was the secret sauce, but along the way, something worked.   I won’t say I have it all figured out or that I won’t get injured again, but I’m learning, and able to run while I learn.   My reality is that I have “high maintenance” knees and feet, but if I keep my muscles strong and flexible, my compromised joints are much happier because less is asked of them.   Turns out the worst thing in the world for joints is doing nothing, which works well for me because I am most happy while in motion.

My point with all that?    My initial reaction to the injuries was gut-wrenching fear.  What had I done to myself?  Would I heal and recover?  Would I be able to run again?  It was so bad for a while that every little ache or pain would throw me into a tailspin of worry and anxiety.   I’m not crazy about living there, however, so I started thinking about a way out of the cycle.

The first step out of my personal tailspin was to name the fear.  I was afraid of being injured again.  Second, what was the absolute worst thing that could happen?   I would no longer be able to run or hike.  My conclusion was that I needed a plan.  I determined to dig, research, and tap every resource at my disposal to ensure that I was doing everything that could possibly be done to prevent this from happening.  However, it was just as important to decide what I would do if circumstances developed beyond my control.  I acknowledged that I could develop new hobbies.   Perhaps follow an old dream to write.  Explore ways to help others discover the joy of running, while running smarter.  Simple things, but powerful in their ability to dissolve the negative power of the fear.

Some things are beyond our control, which is part of the lesson to be learned here, but many more are within our power to improve.  The worst reaction to fear is to ignore it;  shove it under the table and pretend it doesn’t exist.   Doing absolutely nothing increases the chances that your fear will cause you paralyzing anxiety that cripples your ability to embrace and enjoy life.

What are your worst fears?   It may be something very big, or something very small.   Fear takes on many shapes and faces, but it is always potent.   I invite you to try these simple steps to convert your fear from a monster in your closet, to a helper by your side.

Fear is part of this run we call life.   But it doesn’t belong in the driver’s seat.   Let it ride along as it can be helpful, but keep it in the back seat where it belongs.  Easy to see, but tightly buckled in.