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My sophomore year of high school I was able to use money I earned modeling to buy a car. My parents helped me pick out a used Hyundai Elantra and I remember going to Chicago with them to get it. I loved that car and drove it from 2008 until 2019. Besides oil changes, the only maintenance I had on that car was replacing all of the tires once and replacing the brakes. Not bad. One thing I remember about “Bella” was that the parking brake was only kinda useful. I must have left it up a couple times on accident and started driving because it got to the point where if I left it up and tried to drive off, it would definitely go… it just sounded a little funny and you had to push the gas pedal down harder than you normally would. You shouldn’t be able to drive a car with the parking brake on, but if you tried to do so, Bella would do her best to comply even though it was bad for the car and she wouldn’t be able to go as fast. You know where I’m going with this right…? I’m Bella. By body’s parking brake has been on and I’ve been trying to drive right on through it. I raced in Portland at the beginning of June to try and get a qualifying time for the Olympic Trials and the whole time I was running I felt like I was trying so hard, yet felt myself slowing down. My finishing time was 10:01, the slowest time I’ve run since college. (big) Yikes. It was embarrassing, painful, physically challenging, and emotionally trying. I walked around on the infield for a few minutes after the race trying to gather myself and let the shock of running that poorly and feeling that awful sink in a little. After the race I went back to Austin to check in with Dr. Moos again and see if we could make sense of what just happened. One way to understand what’s been happening to me is a concept that Dr. Moos describes as a governor that my body has adopted. The governor is there to keep me safe, keep me from doing more damage to my physical body. And even though I feel like I don’t need it anymore and want to get rid of it and run free, it’s reason for being there is valid. For 6 years when I was training on the Bowerman Track Club (2015-2020), I was encouraged to override my body’s distress signals and keep pushing through workouts and training blocks and mileage that was all too much for me and causing my body to break down in a way that I couldn’t keep up with. My training plan was never tailored to me and my needs or current fitness. I was always asked to do whatever the group was doing, which was always dictated by whoever was the fastest athlete in the group at that time. If I was coming back from injury, (which I was constantly doing) I would be instructed to hop in with the group and do as much of the workout as I could- hold on until I couldn’t. If I was feeling pain, the message from the coach was always to run through the pain until you can’t. Foot hurts? See if you can warm up. Still hurts after the warmup? See if you can just get through the first few reps. Still hurts after that but not getting worse? See if you can finish the workout. More mileage. More intensity. More high altitude training. More is more. If you survive you will be a champion. If you don’t, well, there’s more women coming after you to take your place. The only time I got “less” was when I was injured. And when I was hurt I spent an insane amount of time in the pool, on the bike, and on the elliptical… which all added up to a lot of work and not much rest. My body needed less. Less work and more rest. The only thing I got less of was attention from my coach as the injuries piled up. I couldn’t appreciate at the time how much damage I was doing to my body and how once I truly broke down it would take me an incredibly long time to build myself back up again. Looking back at my training log from those years, I can see now that there were plenty of warning signs. I pushed through so much pain and so many issues that just needed rest. I felt like I had to do that because didn’t I want to be great? I needed to be tough. I had stopped respecting my body by pushing through all of those warning signs, so my body decided to take matters into it’s own hands. And that’s where the governor comes in. Just like Brittany Spears’ dad, my body said “you are not fit to make decisions anymore, I’m in charge now,” and it put a governor on me. Now when I go to push my body hard in running, it won’t do it. It’s a protective mechanism because in the past if my body said, “woah that hurts, that’s too much,” I would ignore it. I don’t want to do that anymore. I haven’t overtrained in a years, but I’m still getting injured, breaking down too easily every time I try to ramp up my training. I can run easy (although that doesn’t feel right either), but when I go to run hard my body rebels. It won’t trust me, which breaks my heart because I’m so deeply grateful for my body and what it has done. I know it works hard for me every day. I also know it’s fair for my body to be hesitant to let me take back control and trust I won’t abuse my power. What I want to say to my body is: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t respect your boundaries. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for you before. I’ve learned so much in the past few years. You can trust me now. I will push you, but I will also give you rest. I will listen and honor you. I want to work WITH you, not against you. Thank you, body, for everything you’ve done for me. I want to be friends again. And I want to be in control again. If you let me, I promise I won’t let you down again. My body is separate from me, but we are a team. I believe my body wants the same things that I do, which is to feel strong, powerful, confident, happy, joyful, fearless… I don’t need my governor anymore. It’s time to let it go.
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