My eyes slowly open, and within a matter of seconds, I’m overwhelmed by the swarm of butterflies that have taken over my stomach. They trigger an alarm that sends warning signals throughout my body. Before long, an unhinged train of thought is barreling through my mind. How do my feet feel? Are they throbbing before I even moved? Is the first step going to flood my feet with pain? Who am I running with today? What if my feet hurt and I can’t keep up? Is the pain going to haunt me all day? Is it ever going to get better? 

No wonder I’d rather pull the blankets over my head and hide – all to avoid that dreaded first step and the possibility of pain.

Recently it dawned on me that for the last several months, I’ve been hyper focused on the pain in my feet. I’ve been consumed by trying to figure out the cause and find a cure. It’s understandable.  For weeks, every single step I took caused me to wince in pain. But when  the intensity of the pain decreased, my focus on it did not. Every morning I woke up with a sense of dread. I couldn’t figure out why I was so anxious, but then it hit me — I’m afraid of that first step. The moment I placed my feet on the floor defined my entire day. The first step hurt, so my heart sank as I knew the pain would accompany me for yet another day. The constant fear of pain put my brain in a perpetual state of high alert where my body and mind couldn’t relax.  Even when the pain was gone I was preoccupied by fear of its return.

A few weeks ago I ran along the river with the intention of spotting as many eagles as possible. My eyes and mind focused on the trees surrounding me hoping to experience the excitement of seeing an eagle. When I finished I realized my feet weren’t really bothering me. In fact, I had hardly thought about them as I ran.  My focus had been on something greater, not on myself.

Intrigued by this realization, I decided to be more thoughtful about my thoughts. Very quickly I learned that when I ran with other people I felt less pain. My brain was focused on the conversation. However, when I ran alone, I thought obsessively about pain.  Fear was front and center. Sensations of pain came raging back full force. It was typically a miserable experience. 

Giving too much attention to negativity strengthens it.  It spirals out of control, until we’re drowning in it. But when we force our attention elsewhere (such as our surroundings or the people we’re with), that sense of drowning basically disappears. When I focused intently on myself, I essentially built  a wall around myself that locked in my pain. It intensified and stayed trapped within me. But it broke down when I looked beyond it. The key is to move beyond ourselves and make an intentional decision about what it is we’re going to focus on.

This goes beyond physical pain. The sense of impending doom that circumstances in the world or the sensations in my feet can bring on often paralyze me with fear. I dread getting out of bed in the morning because the world has gone mad or because I’m afraid that the moment my foot touches the floor the pain will still be there. Within seconds my brain feels like it is going to implode with all of the what ifs.  I’m getting better at stopping it before its claws sink in too deeply. Taking a few moments to breathe deeply and pray helps me shift my thoughts to what I’m grateful for such as: I’m looking forward to running with my friends or I’m so lucky to get to witness the sunrise. 

At first it was forced, and I didn’t truly believe any of it, but I persisted and now I actually embrace it. I’m training my brain to think and focus differently — something I thought was impossible. But the dread really does go away and as a result, so has the pain. (obviously if there was a bone sticking out of my foot, I wouldn’t just try to think my way out of it. This is different.)

It’s been so interesting to witness this in action. The day after I announced that I wanted to run 55K on my 55th birthday, the pain was terrible. My thoughts ran wild with doubt and fear of failure. See, you shouldn’t have told anyone. How are you ever going to run 30+ miles if you wince every time you walk? This was a terrible idea. Thankfully I caught myself and put what I learned into practice.  I disarmed my fear with affirmations and gratitude. I forced myself to think exciting thoughts like This is going to be so cool! I can’t wait to see what happens! After a few days, I finally believed it and the pain was almost gone. My pain and fear of pain revealed an even deeper fear. Subconsciously, I was afraid that I would regret sharing a goal and would ultimately fail. My brain distracted me from that very real fear with very real pain that was easier to deal with.

Our minds are extremely powerful. I’m using that to my advantage. I’m running farther than I have in months and I’m much more comfortable. By no means is it easy and it didn’t happen overnight, but training your brain really does work. Try it for yourself. Pay attention to your thoughts and what you focus on. Be honest with yourself, but don’t judge yourself. Just notice what’s going on in your mind and see if it has any connection to any pain you have– emotionally or physically. Once you become aware of your tendencies, you can then decide if you want to change them. I’m still working on it, but I’m not giving up. My pain had become my purpose, my daily focus.  The fuel for my fear. My body was holding onto fear and alerting me of things I needed to let go. Shifting my focus from myself has not only reduced my physical pain, but emotionally and socially it’s made me happier and stronger.

Of course there are things (which I’ve previously written about) that  I’ve been doing to help my feet and I haven’t stopped. Things like foam rolling and trigger point therapy are important and they help. But my underlying fear was definitely hindering my progress. I need to work on both in order to fully heal. It’s a lot of work that frankly, I wasn’t thrilled about. But our bodies are smart. Mine warned me to stop letting negativity and fear rule my mind. It’s stressful and stress makes us sick. 

Do you have a nagging, mysterious ache or pain that you can’t explain or get rid of? Does it stress you out? Do you notice it more in certain circumstances? What is your underlying fear and what are you going to do about it? 

“The magic you’re looking for is in the work you’re avoiding.”