To my stress fracture:

The pain shot across me suddenly one day when I was sprinting at track--underneath the left side of my pelvis, it burned.

I didn’t know why. Initially, I thought it was something minor, an agony that would dissipate in a few days. My lower back had felt tight the past few days after track practice, but it was always better in the morning.

That evening was International Night, so I limped back to the school building slowly. I could still walk, albeit with great difficulty; I wasn’t rendered immobile. I assured my friend that I was fine even though it still flared as I sat without budging an inch as I watched the show.

The morning of the second day, I did stumble out of bed, but it did feel better than the first day. I still had to hobble around everywhere, noticeably and painfully, but it was better. If I continued to improve at this pace, certainly I would be able to commence running again.

But from then, improvement inched by at a slug’s pace. I wanted to run, if not at practice then at my treadmill at home. I wondered how I had injured myself so gravely two weeks into sprinting season--it was something I was new to--when I before ran long distances so much on the treadmill.

From the beginning, one of my friends urged me to see a doctor. I brushed the warnings away at first, adamant in the belief that the pain would fade and I’d be better in no time. Within two weeks, walking eased back into relative normalcy-- I could still feel a twinge in my lower hip when shifting my left leg, but it wasn’t really a debilitating pain. But when I tried to run ten meters, it flared up, and I had to stop.

I looked up symptoms online of what I had, googling “pain in lower pelvis after running,” to no avail and no certainty. So after around two weeks, when I still couldn’t run, I finally told my parents that I believed I should see a doctor. Nothing before had ever set me completely on the sidelines for so long.

My father scheduled an appointment in another two weeks. That was in a while, but it was something. Till then, I continued to grudgingly sit out at practice, convinced that the coaches and my teammates deemed me lazy.

But the whole time, I continued to improve. Three days before the appointment dawned, I tried running on my treadmill again, and it worked. As long as I kept the incline utterly flat, at zero percent, I could run without stopping--yes, I still felt the pain where it was, but it was more of an annoying tug on my pelvis then the unbearable sharpness of before. But that day, I had to stop running after around half an hour at my old pace--where I once was able to chug through easily for over an hour. In just those four weeks, I had lost so much fitness and was determined to regain it.

When I finally ambled into the doctor’s office, I felt silly. Nothing hurt at all. After recounting my story and depicting what the issue was, I was told to walk, to stretch this way, to lift my leg that way, asked whether I felt any pain (I said no). I lay down on the stretcher, and the doctor shifted my leg again this way and that, but I still felt fine.

Then, I took an X-Ray. I went into another room and lay upon the table as images of my bones processed.

When the doctor returned, she notified me-- I had a stress fracture. It was in the inferior pubic ramus, but for simplicity merely called a pelvic stress fracture. The normal treatment for a stress fracture was “four to six weeks of no running”. I was to return again for another appointment in six weeks to check if I was okay to run again. Six weeks of lethargy and restlessness.

The doctor issued me a note that I showed to the coaches, which stated that I had a stress fracture and was allowed to neither run nor jump. I still went to track practice every day though. We had over six weeks of the season left, and I was eager show commitment, to hop back in after my six weeks were history.

Looking back, I hardly can comprehend how I managed those weeks. Far worse injuries have decimated athletic careers, but it killed me going to practice every day and watching everyone work hard, while I only stretched and meandered around the track the duration of practice.

I was impatient, so a week before the termination of the six weeks, I started to run on my treadmill again, reasoning that since I didn’t see a doctor for four weeks, I had waited enough time. For just about every day of spring break, I ran on my treadmill actually. In fact, I was displaying partial redemption already. I was excited for the following week, when I’d see my doctor again and get officially approved to run again.

My doctor said I shouldn’t have run. There, another X-Ray reading scanned my injury, and while the images displayed a stress fracture that had clearly healed a lot, but hadn’t done so entirely. Every time I ran, I’d be breaking down progress. And that probably again extended the length of my recovery time. I was to return in another four weeks.

Infuriated with my own recklessness, this time I followed my doctor’s orders to a point. I didn’t run at all. I didn’t run when track ended and I had all the free time in the world. I didn’t run when the last faint clicking in my hip faded and I felt thoroughly normal. I didn’t run even when my mother removed my doctor’s appointment a week back for an interview I didn’t want to do.

The next time I returned, I followed the same procedure-- questions, X-rays-- and waited anxiously for news. Finally, my doctor declared, my stress fracture had healed, with the broken bone replaced by new “baby bone”. I could run again-- I was supposed to go to physical therapy and take it slowly, but I could run.

I never went to physical therapy. I know I should have, but I didn’t want to spend more money, and I wanted to work swiftly, regain virtually all of the endurance I ever had had, as all of it seemed to have drained away.

But even so, I wasn’t stupid, and I did work slowly. I ran slower, and for shorter distances. I heaved all the time, out of breath, not knowing how to climb the ladder back to where I was.

The most frustrating part about injuries isn’t even sitting out after they’ve ripped apart your body and as you gradually recover. It is actually when you have fully recovered and rejoin, but you discover have lapsed so much physically that you’re nowhere near where you used to be.

What exacerbated the situation was that I didn’t even really cross train while I was injured. I have no gym membership, and it was winter, so I couldn’t swim. I tried to go on the elliptical, but the machine’s stride differed remarkably from my own, forcing me to run slower than I could. It had frustrated me so much that I never hopped onto it again.

Cross-training is essential to maintaining fitness in an off-period. It helps so that when you do return, you are able to more easily jump back to where you were. But it is undeniable, even so, that your performance will sink, especially if you are out for months. Don’t expect to float back up to peak levels in no time without work--I had to work hard to even get close. Even now, I’m nowhere near close to being able to do what I used to, but slowly, I’m trying to work towards it, building higher and higher off what once was a shaky foundation.

However, it’s just important to take things easy, to not overexert yourself. In the fragile period right after recovery, you are more susceptible to opening the same injury or a new one.

All in all, what it takes, like most things in life, is time and effort. Keep in mind however, the ever-cliche saying: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, builds you up, gives you a sense of practicality. You learn better how much to push yourself and when to draw the limit. And after improving again from working hard after an injury, you will be proud of yourself for braving it all.