Celebrating those who don’t listen to their bodies perpetuates a dangerous narrative.
By Ashley Mateo
After the Olympic marathon in Paris this summer, British runner Rose Harvey revealed that she completed the race with a stress fracture in her femur. She had sought treatment ahead of time, and doctors told Harvey that running the marathon would make it worse, the BBC reported; afterwards, she said she gained “grit and resilience” from her training.
Record scratch: That’s not exactly a healthy takeaway to publicize when an athlete competes—or trains—through a serious injury, further harming themselves in the process. But it’s the one media so often highlights and one pro runners so often exemplify.
“As a society, we’re fascinated with pain: controlling pain, mastering pain, and the elation that comes when it’s gone,” says Mari Dottschadis, a sports psychologist and running coach in Berlin, Germany.
When someone at the pinnacle of their sport perseveres through pain to achieve something impressive (think: gymnast Kerri Strug clinching the gold for Team USA by vaulting on a broken ankle in the 1996 Olympics), it’s hard not to be impressed. “You can’t really separate the narratives that go on in elite sports from those amongst non-professionals who are deeply involved in the sport—and once certain beliefs develop, it’s really hard to shake them,” says Dottschadis.
That’s why adages like “pain is weakness leaving the body,” “no pain, no gain,” and “go hard or go home” have persisted for decades, especially within the running community: Distance running is all about withstanding and overcoming a certain amount of suffering.
“Runners of all levels become really good at turning that internal pain indicator off so they can push through the physical discomfort and pain of training,” says Tracy Carrington, Ph.D., a performance specialist in Fort Worth, Texas.
They have to, because “there’s a mismatch between what our bodies are technically capable of doing and how far our brains are willing to let our bodies go; the part of our brains responsible for survival are wired to protect us which means shutting down the effort with a good, safe buffer before our bodies run out of effort or ability,” says Boston-based sports psychologist Emily Saul.
“This is contrary to what we need for elite performance, which calls for giving it your all, pushing to the very max, and ‘emptying the tank.’ Our survival brain only prioritizes avoiding the worst (death) in the service of survival, so it can’t prioritize being the best in competition,” she adds.
Why Runners Tend to Push Through Injuries
To a certain extent, it’s understandable when professional athletes make the choice to participate in a major event; there are contracts, prize money, lucrative endorsements, and more on the line. That shouldn’t be relatable, though.
“For amateur runners, competing is not truly a need. It’s an opportunity and a privilege,” says Saul. “But they look at the best of the best, and there’s this over-indexing on believing that what an elite does is the exact same thing they should be doing.”
This happens with super shoes, recovery tech, fad diets, and, of course, training. Running through injury, though, can have a more deleterious, long-term effect than dropping $300 on a pair of plated shoes that may not give you much of a boost.
Nearly half of all recreational runners sustain injuries, according to a 2021 study done at the University of Gothenburg, and 85 percent of recreational runners continue running when injured, a 2018 study published in The Journal of Science and Medicine in Sport determined. That’s a pretty alarming number.
But it’s not just that amateur runners want to emulate the pros. So why do so many runners refuse to give themselves the rest and recovery they might need in favor of pushing past their limits? “I would argue that it’s psychologically harder for an athlete to pull themselves out of training or a race than it is to continue while physically hurt,” says Carrington.
Many runners have type A personalities. “They go into training and pursue goals believing very firmly—if inaccurately—that if they just do X, Y, and Z perfectly, they can essentially guarantee an outcome,” says Saul. “Any variable that comes up, like an injury, destroys that certainty. They want so badly for there to be one set of rules, and they do not have the tolerance for having to figure out how to adjust day to day based on the information their body is giving them.”
Instead, they use the skills they’ve developed to help them turn the volume down on normal aches and pains like fingers in their ears: La la la, nothing is affecting me. “They just want to shut up, show up, and check the box,” says Saul. “And if you do that, you will end up injured, burned out, or both.”
Psychological motivation is at play here, too. If you’re influenced by someone pushing through pain, you have to question what you’re seeking from running: Recognition? Success? “Those are very natural and human feelings: to be seen, to be valued, to be understood, to feel like you matter,” says Saul.
But when you put those needs onto something like running a Boston Marathon qualifying time, “you’re falsely attributing those performance feats to being a solution, and you start to believe that ‘if I do this, I’ll finally feel accomplished’ or like you’ve proven whatever the thing is you feel like you need to prove,” Saul explains.
The outcome becomes about filling some void in your life, adds Dottschadis—and if you don’t attempt it, you a) won’t achieve that outcome and b) you’ll feel like all that time you’ve put into training was a waste (which is not true, by the way). That creates an black-and-white approach to running, which encourages people to ignore any information that doesn’t serve their end goal.
This kind of thinking gives you only two options: success or failure. And that all-or-nothing mentality can contribute to an increased risk for anxiety and depression, according to a 2021 study published in Current Psychology. Perfectionism is also a predictor of injuries in athletes, 2018 research from the Journal of Sports Sciences determined.
What It Takes to Avoid Running Through Injury
Withdrawing from a race or taking a break from running requires a lot of self-awareness and self-reflection. “Real toughness is experiencing discomfort or distress, leaning in, paying attention, and creating space to take thoughtful action. It’s maintaining a clear head to be able to make the appropriate decision. Toughness is navigating discomfort to make the best decision you can,” performance coach Steve Magness wrote in his book Do Hard Things.
Sometimes, that means doing less—or nothing at all. And that requires letting go of your ego. “Doing something is always easier than doing nothing,” says Dottschadis. “You have to let go of what you imagined was supposed to happen.”
Having experts to guide you, whether that’s a coach, physical therapist, or sports psychologist, can help if your internal pain regulator is out of whack, says Carrington; sometimes, “you need someone else to say ‘no, this is not the right move,’” she says.
But you also need to take ownership of your situation. “For a lot of people, running isn’t just a physical thing; it’s a form of stress relief and community,” says Carrington. “To take that away means you have to be pretty intentional in implementing other ways to manage that stress and connect with other people.”
You may need to acknowledge if you’re vulnerable to the “no pain, no gain” type of messaging, and “consider changing your environment—whether that’s your club or your coach—because you know you will not thrive there,” says Dottschadis.
Glorifying those who push through pain is a short-term way of looking at running. It comes from a place of fear, and puts you in a precarious position that could jeopardize your own relationship to running, physically and mentally. If you’re in this sport for the long run, it’s tougher—and braver—to know when you need to take a step back.
