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COVID, week 1 & Kelly McDonigal, PhD’s The Joy of Movement

COVID, week 1 & Kelly McDonigal, PhD’s The Joy of Movement

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At the rate we’re going, I’ll have little memory of this all in a week, so I suppose it’s worthwhile to write it out here as much for you — to compare to what’s going on where you live — as it is for me,  to remember how fast life can change. 

COVID-19 seems to have had a similar effect on time as does child-rearing, wherein the days are somehow really long and really short at the same time. It sounds impossible until you’re in the thick of it, and then suddenly, you get it. 

Since last week’s writings — which seem like a lifetime ago at this point — Santa Clara County is one of many counties in northern California to have issued a Shelter in Place, basically barring residents from leaving home except for very specific reasons, like going to a job that’s essential for society or for getting groceries or medicine. Fortunately, leaving home to exercise outside is allowed, though stipulations still apply: maintain the social distance of at least six feet (unless you’re with people with whom you reside), no big groups (nothing over 10, if I recall correctly), and so on. 

It’s a little weird, to say the least. 

not that we usually run while holding hands or anything, but it is weird to run alongside someone while keeping a very specific buffer zone.

In the mix of our homeschooling adventure — oh, right! I forgot to mention that A’s school is closed at least through the beginning of April and G’s preschool is right there as well, though it’s quite likely that both children will be out of school for (much) longer. It was around mid-day on Friday, March 13, that schools in SCC began communicating with families that they were closing for several weeks to help mitigate the virus’s spread. Somewhere around that time, late last week, most/a lot of the tech companies here (or whose hdq are here) told their entire workforces to transition to working remotely, and so it seemed nearly overnight, we (my family yes, but California in general) went from a fairly typical go to school, go to work, go to extracurriculars, do life as you know it routine to a screeching, full-stop halt, a life where if whatever it is isn’t happening out of your home, chances are quite, quite high that it ain’t happening at all… or if it is, it’s in a way unlike anything you’ve ever done before. 

can’t help but wonder how their little brains are making sense of all this weirdness

Again: it’s all a little weird, to say the least.   

The kids and I have been diligent about getting outside for fresh air (PE? sure!) because that’s a normal thing to do, even if what we’re doing right now — having school at the kitchen table, led by yours truly– is completely abnormal. (Quick tangent here to say that my mom is a retired public school educator and education administrator, so I’ve grown up knowing first-hand how overworked and underappreciated these souls are. Props, again, to the educators who make the world go round. I spent more time this morning explaining, and re-explaining, to my preschooler the various ways one could make a capital- and lower-cased X than is probably necessary. I know I’m no substitution for Ms. M, but deargod!). Anyway.

fresh air and the outdoors, all normal

We have been following a daily schedule to the best of our abilities because I’m pretty sure most of us (humans in general, yes, but my progeny in particular) do better with routines than they do with chaos — and especially during a trying time like now, with a seeming million unknowns flying around and news (fake or otherwise) coming at us at light speed. My job is to give them normalcy, so even in the utter lack thereof wherein we’re currently residing in Silicon Valley, I am trying to make our days have rhythms and cadence similar to what they’d have at school. 

Trying, of course, is the operative word.

recent rains (finally!) are making the plantlife quite magnificent and that nearby stream quite active

In recent weeks, I’ve mentioned how good The Joy of Movement was, and I still wholeheartedly stand by it. My quick and dirty book review of it is basically that if you’ve ever considered yourself someone who loves to move your body — however you do it — because it just makes you feel good, this book is for you. It backs-up all of those hunches you’ve had about exercise’s effect on you, particularly on your mental health, with all types of research and studies that are meaningful and pertinent.

If the opposite is true — that you’ve never really considered yourself to be someone who quote-unquote LIKES exercise — this book is still for you. I think the author does a solid job of convincing everyone that they have something, a few things, really, to gain from exercising, in terms of their mental health. It’s a solid read, fairly quick, and if you’re in the market for something from which you want to walk away feeling inspired (and chompin’ for a run [or your movement of choice]), The Joy of Movement is for you. 

Finishing The Joy of Movement right before COVID-19 blew up reminded me of how important I deem exercise (and specifically, running) to my health. It’s as natural to me each day as, I don’t know, breathing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, my movement of choice brings me immense joy, regardless of my pace, my distance, how much climbing I did, or any other metric that only runners care about, and I’ve often ruminated on how lucky I am to be able to do it in the first place. I’m fortunate to be able to want to do it and be physically able to, yes, but I’m also fortunate to be in a position where my life circumstances allow me to. My privilege isn’t lost on me. (Another quick aside to say that Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn’s new book, Tightrope, is so, so good and also heartbreaking. Reading it in the midst of the COVID shutdown is another level. More to come, highly recommended). 

Regarding running and COVID: over the past few days, with COVID and shelter-in-place and everything else engulfing everyone’s attention span, I noticed that my running has changed ever-so-slightly. It’s not necessarily because my goal races are out the window, which they absolutely should be — Big Sur announced its postponement last week, the spring PA schedule is decimated, and I imagine Mountains to Beach will make their postponement announcement any day now — but I think it’s because I’ve instinctively needed running to be something other than it was for me in days prior. 

In the past week, all I want is to hear the birds singing, or the cows bellowing, or nothing at all. 

Hearing my breathing is enough. 

Seeing the electric pink of a burgeoning sunrise reminds me that I’m here for this, right now. 

I could tell you what yesterday was like, or I could take a stab at hypothesizing what tomorrow will bring, but in doing either (or both), I’d be missing out on what’s unfolding before me, all the messy and uncomfortable bits of it. 

Or I could just stay right here, in this present moment, and roll. It might be a colossal failure, and it might not be pretty, but trying again and again is the only option. 

If movement has taught me nothing else, it has taught me the value in staying put — uncomfortable as it may be sometimes — and that eventually, a path appears, and the only way out is through.  

Book Report – Carrie Jackson Cheadle and Cindy Kuzma’s Rebound: Train Your Mind to Bounce Back Stronger from Sports Injuries

Book Report – Carrie Jackson Cheadle and Cindy Kuzma’s Rebound: Train Your Mind to Bounce Back Stronger from Sports Injuries

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I’m not a betting woman, but I bet that if you took 10 runners — any gender, any distance preference, any speed — and asked them whether they’ve been injured during the time that they’ve been running, easily 9, if not all 10, would admit that they’ve suffered from the I-word at some point. It’s an unfortunate reality for the overwhelming majority in our running community, and let us not mince any words on the subject: injury sucks. It. just. sucks. 

The reasons for runners’ injuries are as diverse as the ocean is deep, so I can’t go into that level of detail here. Instead, I can wager that the unifying thread that connects runners of all different backgrounds, speeds, abilities, distance preferences, whatever is that when they are injured, the mental side of the house suffers just as much (or maybe even more than) the physical. And for most of us, we don’t realize how much we mentally suffer when we’re recovering from an injury until we find ourselves in the thick of it and completely consumed by all manner of seemingly-conflicting feelings.

what type of pictures complement all this not-fun injury talk? no idea. hopefully this one will at least make you laugh. to this day, I still call this section in ARP “nosebleed alley.”

How to repair the physical part of the equation during an injury is oftentimes (but not always) a straightforward process and one that eager athletes will often hurl themselves headfirst into. On the flip side, we don’t often talk about the mental components of dealing with injuries, and it’s obviously to our detriment because of that whole mind-body connection that modern medicine swears by. 

Enter: Carrie Jackson Cheadle and Cindy Kuzma’s newest book, Rebound: Train Your Mind to Bounce Back Stronger from Sports Injuries. 

I have the joy of knowing Cindy from the Chicago running community (and I am an avid reader of many of her vast running-related publications), so when I found out that she had a book coming out in the thick of the fall marathon season that was all about dealing with the mental challenges associated with sports injuries, I wanted to get my hands on a copy as soon as possible (thanks, gf). Fortunately, I’m not currently sidelined from my sport of choice, but at any given time, I know plenty of people who are and who would benefit from this type of invaluable resource. 

I regularly read a lot of running-related or exercise science-related work, and I can’t recall the last time I’ve come upon something whose focus was on mental training during injury and recovery. Mental training and sports psych seems to be all the rage right now, but it’s all based in the throes of training and race day performance. No one’s talking about how in the world you’re supposed to take care of yourself and your mental health when you’re injured, regardless if your sport allows you to pay your mortgage or if you’re one of the masses. I had a feeling these ladies were onto something good. 

Perhaps the most succinct way of describing Rebound is to call it the friend you wished you didn’t have to have. Namely: no one likes being injured or even temporarily sidelined. When we hear our practitioners utter those dreadful words that put us in (running, or riding, or lifting, or swimming, or whatever) time-out for an extended period, we freak out. You’re telling me I can’t do _____?! How will I ______?! Rarely is it ever *just* about the game. The fact that we lose it when we’re told that we cannot (or should not) pursue our sport of choice, even temporarily, speaks to the impressive level of importance all of us bestow upon our activity. 

In the event that you find yourself sidelined, remember that Rebound is a resource that will ultimately (and hopefully) help you freak out less and (dare I say) come out the other side better and stronger for it, as impossible and improbable as that may seem when you’re in the thick of it. 

As you read Rebound, you’ll notice that Cheadle (a leading mental skills coach) and Kuzma (a contributing writer for Runner’s World, among others) punctuate their chapters with personal narratives from athletes of all sorts of different backgrounds and sports, recent research, and the authors’ own clinical expertise. You’re not reading a straight-up textbook, nor are you reading a throw-away listicle online that could have been written by a twelve year-old who’s adept in Googling. 

Everything you read in this book is accessible — no Ph.D. in kinesiology or psychology required — and actionable. Everything. In fact, Cheadle and Kuzma make their work’s findings so accessible and attentive to the (potentially) injured athlete-reader at hand that they equip them with “just the facts” at the conclusion of each chapter before going into “mental skills and drills.” After all, for some injured athlete-readers, merely reading about injury can be traumatizing and triggering. The authors get that and partition their chapters accordingly.  

Rebound gives readers more than 45 skills and drills that they can employ at various stages of their injury recovery process. That in and of itself is pretty impressive, but the authors also delineate the skills in such a way that allows athlete-readers to decide how to best proceed based on their specific circumstances, given where they currently are (“level 1: rookie”; “level 2: all-star”; “level 3: hall of fame”). Honestly, I think this is brilliant. No two athletes are going to proceed through their (mental) recovery at the same rate, so it makes a lot of sense to have the corresponding drills and skills be appropriately graduated, too. No need to feel bad about yourself for being at the “rookie” level right now; remember, it’s a process. This stuff takes time.  

a quick break for your eyes and for your mental health

Cheadle and Kuzma maintain that there are fifteen essential mental skills for injury recovery, ranging from confidence to resilience, and portraying the recovery process in this way intuitively makes a lot of sense. So often, I’ve seen science writers liken the injury recovery process to the grieving process, and while I think there’s some semblance of truth there — and the authors here, too, talk about this in detail in chapter one — I don’t think that this is the recovery process’s starting (denial) and ending (acceptance) point. A lot happens (or has to happen, rather) in between. These authors acknowledge that the recovery process is on-going and multifaceted, and Rebound reflects that accordingly.  

Perhaps what is most compelling about Rebound stems from the book’s very title. Throughout the book, Cheadle and Kuzma share vignettes from real-world athletes, many whose stories you may already know, who suffered from some type of setback. In sharing the athletes’ stories, the authors show that these athletes who are at the top of their game are in many ways just like the rest of us weekend warriors and hobby joggers. Pros hurt themselves just like we do! They’re just like us!

What differentiates those at the top, however, is very often how they actually rebound from their injury-related setbacks. We may be quick to think that these athletes’ recoveries all stem from their privilege and access to cutting-edge therapies and resources, and while that all surely may play a part, more often than not, it’s due to the athletes’ abilities to manage their setbacks in ways that allow them to recover more fully and emerge from them better (healthier, with a more positive attitude, with greater life-sport balance, and more) than they ever were before. 

In other words, Rebound takes these athletes’ real-world experiences with rebounding and changing course after injury, supports their processes with evidence, and packages it to athlete-readers in ways that will allow us to emulate the pros.  

It’s important to note that Cheadle and Kuzma aren’t so naive to claim that all athletes, everywhere, regardless of magnitude of injury, will be able to return to their sport eventually, provided they work hard enough at PT and give themselves enough affirmations each morning. Rebound acknowledges that for some athletes, they’ll have to decide whether they want to return to their sport at all, while also admitting that for some, their choices were made for them as a result of an accident or other extenuating circumstances. Cheadle and Kuzma spend a fair bit of the book’s final chapters on the subject of moving on from sport and what post-sport life can look like and how athletes can still find meaning and joy in life in their sport’s void. No athlete wants to envision what life could be like without her favorite sport, but it’s an important consideration that some of us have to take. I’m so glad the authors included this section because while it’s not pleasant to talk about, it’s worth considering. 

Rebound is the friend you wished you didn’t need to have because while you may never get injured from your sport (you lucky dog, you!), the skills and traits that you can learn from this book are easily and readily transferable.

If you’re currently injured, I’m rrrrrrrrrrreally sorry you’re dealing with it, but I encourage you to check out this book because you may find it really helpful as you navigate everything that’s happening (and that has happened) between your ears since your injury or diagnosis. All my love.

If you’re not currently injured, that’s awesome — yeah, you! — but this book is still important for you, too. In the event that you ever do become injured, you’ll already have some really helpful tools in your toolkit to use to hack away at your recovery. 

Rebound is timely, evidence-based, accessible, and highly actionable, and if you’re an athlete at all — regardless of sport, ability, anything — it deserves a place on your shelf.  

Many thanks to Cindy/Bloomsbury Sport for sending along a copy of Rebound for me to review. Even if Cindy weren’t a friend, I’d highly recommend this excellent resource to any athlete.