Pain Cave

The training is the marathon. Race day is the celebration.​

Your body aches from the inside out. You’re not sure if it’s from running, the miles and preparation you’re putting in for your second marathon, or if it’s due to the lingering heartache from being in and ultimately leaving an abusive, narcissistic relationship. Honestly, it’s probably both. The muscle soreness and fatigue you feel today are likely due to a combination of severe nervous system fatigue and your endurance training.​

In the final two weeks leading up to the race, you’re in the “taper phase.” You’ve just completed your final long run, preparing for hours on your feet and holding a smooth, cruise-like pace for the 26.2 miles to come. The sounds of your shoes hitting the ground become a repetitive rhythm that is both soothing and mind-numbing. Your breathing is steady as you maintain a zone 2 heart rate.​

People often ask what gets you through the hours it takes to complete these long runs. How do you pass the time? Your answers are standard: music, maybe an interesting podcast, and visualization. One of the tried and true methods that you adopted from some of your favorite athletes is visualizing the finish line: imagine yourself crossing it, what it will feel like, what you will wear, and picture the crowd. Create the most realistic image in your mind possible. It fuels you. It excites you. It motivates you for the relentless work it takes for the medal you get at the end.​

If you’re honest, that many hours in your head can get boring. The mind wanders. Your favorite songs lose their grip eventually. There are only so many EDM or Bad Bunny playlists to fuel your adrenaline.​

What’s the most challenging part of running a marathon? Your Spanish tutor recently asked. You think for a second before answering: The mind. It’s the exhaustion of your mind, and the part where your mind wants to give up before your body does. Of course, it’s physically hard, but I find it to be a bigger exercise of the mind than anything else.​

You remember meeting a former colleague who ran a 200-mile event in New Zealand. He was peppered with questions from others in the room about how he does it, how is it possible, and what is it like. You answered for him in your head: you just do it. Not that you have experience running triple-digit distances. Not a chance. But you instantly felt some kind of relatedness to committing to miles and hours on your feet. You just put on your shoes, lace them up, and run. One mile at a time.​

But it wasn’t just the “simplicity” you connected with from your colleague’s story. It’s much more than that. It’s also a matter of going through a difficult, grueling, painful thing and coming out the other side. It’s about facing a challenge and not giving up. Yes you can. When you think, “I can’t go on anymore.” Yes you can. When you tell yourself, “I’m not going to make it.” Yes you can. And when your mind says, “I can’t take one more step, let alone run one more mile.” Yes. You. Can.​

Some athletes call it “the pain cave.” A place you go to suffer and endure. What’s it like in there? It’s…rough. It’s difficult. And, to put it bluntly, it can really fucking suck. Imagine that point in a workout when you can’t bear to do one more sit-up or one more push-up, but you grit your teeth and do it through the burn you feel in your muscles and your mind. The pain cave of endurance running is like 10x that sensation. Some say that in a marathon, there is a hurdle around mile 16; that’s when the real race starts. That’s when you have to dig deep and carry on. In your experience, you can find truth in these challenging points, a block where you’re pushing your mind more than you’re pushing your body. It’s as if you’re forcing a boulder uphill, maybe literally and figuratively depending on the race course, but once you reach the top, the rest is smooth, and you can coast all the way down.​

In the pain cave, you learn resilience through extreme discomfort, fatigue, and suffering during intense physical exertion. It teaches your mind and body that, in the long run, the plank hold, or one more rep, you can do hard things, maybe even impossible things. While it’s meant to prepare you for the pain you may endure in your physical feat, like a marathon, it can be applied beyond the running course. When you go through something so physically challenging that you are close to collapse, or it leaves you feeling as if one more step will actually kill you, you build a mental toughness that you can take with you in all areas of your life. And this is exactly how it’s played out for you in your most current marathon training.​

You’re at mile 15, approaching mile 16, of a recent 18-mile run. Mental and physical fatigue are strong. Your mind starts to fill with ugh! I want to fucking stop already! Please let me be done. This. Fucking. Sucks. As if instantly, another part of you pops into the inner dialogue. You know what’s tough? What you just went through with him. What’s more difficult than that? Immediately, you put yourself in check, remembering the abuse you endured for a year. You glance up at the phrase you have framed above your treadmill: yes you can.

​If asked again, what’s the most difficult part about running a marathon, you really want to say: nothing. Nothing is as difficult as being in an abusive relationship. Nothing is as painful as the heartbreak that comes from realizing a love you thought was real was actually manipulation. Nothing hurts as much as months of being broken down by someone you trusted. And nothing is more draining than a year of being in constant hypervigilance. Running 26.2 miles? That’s nothing. That has an end. You can cross a finish line in a matter of hours and go on with your life and your day — and you get a medal for it! Running 26.2 miles? That’s a fucking vacation at this point.​

My back is hurting! Three more miles. Ok, two more miles. One. More. Mile. This may sound like the pain cave, but it isn’t. The pain cave was the abusive relationship. That was where you built the mental fortitude to endure, to push through these brief moments of exhaustion and physical exertion. I worry about you, your mom says, as your two-week solo trip to Europe approaches. Mom, I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse. The bad things you’re afraid of, they already happened to me. The hurt you’re worried about, it’s done. This is nothing.​

In endurance training, the pain cave is akin to “hitting a wall.” Athletes might describe it as an urge to quit. So many serious or professional athletes will deliberately create their own pain cave to prepare for it on game day. You need to know how your mind and body will handle the moment you want to give up.

​You have made it through 100% of your bad days. (~Robin Arzon)

​An audible groan leaves your mouth in the final steps of your long run. You wanted to quit an hour ago. You didn’t. You couldn’t. As your feet finally slow to a walk when you reach your goal, you feel equal parts exhausted and strong. I did that! That part is over. The suffering had an ending. You know what doesn’t have a clear ending? Heartbreak. You know what doesn’t stop when your feet slow down? The mental movie reel of a year’s worth of abuse. Muscle soreness? So what. Nothing a hot bath or a massage can’t cure. Trauma lingers on your heart and mind with an indefinite expiration date.

​Slipping off your shoes, you know it’s not just the marathon you’re training for. You’re also preparing for life beyond the finish line, building armor, strength, and resilience for future you. Hurt me? Try. I dare you. You can’t hurt me anymore. I run marathons for fun.