Editors Note: This is part 2 of Oliva’s story of coming back from a series spinal injury. If you haven’t yet, we recommend checking out part 1 here

At this point in my running career, I didn’t care for achieving new PRs or acing great workouts. Running was truly a form of meditation for me-- an escape from daily stressors and a manageable method to curb day-to-day anxiety from a strenuous master’s program. Running was also my social life, and my friends and I would use easy, daily runs to catch up on our lives and keep each other company. Without running, I began to lose these simple, joyous moments and feelings of belonging. I sulked around for months.

In place of passionate running I made myself a passionate plant parent. My plant obsession allowed me to use all this built up, anxious energy toward something productive. I don’t remember at what point I was ready to pick myself up, but it was time to make a change. I told my physical therapist, who specializes in spinal conditions and surgeries, that I wanted his help to achieve my previous baseline. We met three times weekly for months where we focused on low back, hips, glutes and hamstring conditioning-- so, all of the very important body parts I needed working properly to start running again. He made a walking training guide. On World Running Day in 2018, he let me jog on the treadmill for five minutes. There was nothing amazing about this and I didn’t expect anything. I just wanted to know that I could run after my future dog if I needed to. 

The 2018 Detroit International Half Marathon was steadily approaching and my not-so-intelligent self decided to sign up for the challenge. I was going to finish the damn thing whether I ran or walked. I deserved to be a part of the running world whether I was at the top of my running game or with the walkers at the back of the pack. I needed my community. 

Running has always been my even keel. I never found ribbons or trophies as ways to fulfill my excitement. And my bad races never caused too much unhappiness or grief. But when I crossed the line that day in 1:33:something with that finisher medal placed around my neck, I teared up. It was silly. I recognized that I was jeopardizing a healthy future for a moment of pleasure. After months of succumbing myself to the couch, months of taking pain med after pain med, and months of struggling to put my own socks on, I wanted to be in control of my own situation. I wanted to run and be free.  

Thousands of miles later, I still struggle with numbness in my feet and occasional pain from permanent nerve damage from the disc compression onto my spinal nerves. My gait is dismal (but I’m working on it). With focused persistence, I continue to do my PT exercises and drills to keep my body aligned. After narrowly being forced to give up my freedom of movement in running, dancing, jumping….the drive to work hard for the athlete I want to be has increased twofold. Every day is risky, but I’m thrilled to live out my risk-taker spirit.