A Walk Around the Building
A loop around my apartment building is about 500 meters. Normally, that would sound like nothing to me. I’m used to waking up at 5 AM, meditating, stretching, then heading out for a run, swim, or cycling session that lasts two hours or more. Long training sessions are my comfort zone, the part of my routine that keeps me grounded as an endurance athlete.
But today was different. After over two weeks of injury, I managed to walk 8 loops – 5 in the morning and 3 in the afternoon after work. It may not sound like much, but for me, it felt like a victory.
The last two weeks have been tough. With the chest fracture, I could barely walk at first. The pain was sharp, deep, and constant. I couldn’t sleep properly for days. Every cough sent a shock through my chest. Lying down felt like lying on broken glass.
So when I completed those loops today, I felt an enormous wave of gratitude. They weren’t long runs across Sala, or powerful cycles over the Saigon Bridge, or swim sets that leave me breathless. But they were movement. They were progress. They were a reminder that my body is still healing, still carrying me forward, still teaching me.
The Small Victories in Healing
One of the hardest parts of being injured is not the pain itself. It’s the stillness. When you’re used to moving every day, suddenly stopping feels unbearable. Your mind races, your body craves endorphins, and you feel restless.
That’s when small victories matter. A 500-meter walk may seem insignificant compared to a 20-kilometer run, but in recovery, those tiny steps are everything. They remind you that healing is not about speed, it’s about consistency.
Every loop around my building was a little lesson. The first one reminded me to breathe deeply and pace myself. The second told me that discomfort can be a sign of progress, not just pain. By the fifth, I was learning to trust my body again, to believe that it knew what it was doing even if I couldn’t push it the way I wanted.
Gratitude in the Routine
I used to take my training routine for granted. Wake up, lace up, move. Simple. But now, just being able to walk outside and feel my body cooperating feels like a gift.
When you strip back the intensity, the medals, the race registrations, you realize that the true gift of training is not the big events. It’s the daily rhythm. It’s the chance to connect with yourself before the world rushes in.
Even though my routine looks different now, I still try to keep the structure. I wake up early. I walk instead of run. I journal. I read. I plan my day. That sense of continuity makes the recovery process gentler. It reminds me that while my body may be slower right now, my spirit is still strong.
What Happens When You Don’t Listen
I’ll be honest: in the past, I wasn’t always great at listening to my body. As endurance athletes, we often glorify pushing through pain. No pain, no gain, right? But here’s the truth: sometimes ignoring your body’s signals can cost you more than you imagine.
Before this injury, there were times I pushed too hard. I ignored fatigue. I skipped rest days. I thought being strong meant being unstoppable. But strength is not about ignoring pain. It’s about respecting it. Pain is not weakness; it’s information.
The fracture taught me that lesson in the hardest way. Now, I pay attention. If my body tells me to stop, I stop. If it tells me to slow down, I slow down. That’s not giving up. That’s choosing longevity.
Watching Ironman from the Sidelines
Today, after my loops, I spent some time watching Ironman and T100 triathlon events’ videos. Seeing those athletes run, bike, and swim with such determination filled me with excitement. I could almost feel the energy of the race through the screen.
It’s funny. I used to watch those events and compare myself. Am I fast enough? Am I strong enough? Now, I watch them with a different perspective. I admire their grit, but I also appreciate my own journey. Healing may not look like racing, but it requires its own kind of endurance.
And when I return to training fully, I know I’ll carry this perspective with me: to savor the privilege of movement, whether it’s a long run or a short walk.
Lessons Your Body Teaches You
When you listen closely, your body becomes your best teacher. Here are some lessons I’ve learned in the past two weeks:
1. Rest is not laziness
Rest is recovery. It’s how your muscles repair, how your bones heal, how your spirit regains strength. Skipping rest is like trying to run on an empty tank.
2. Small steps count
Progress doesn’t have to be dramatic to matter. Walking 500 meters can carry as much significance as racing a marathon when it’s the best your body can do that day.
3. Pain has a voice
Pain is not your enemy. It’s your body’s way of saying, “Pay attention.” Learning to interpret pain, what’s safe discomfort versus harmful strain, is key to longevity.
4. Gratitude fuels resilience
When you shift your focus from what you can’t do to what you can, recovery becomes lighter. Gratitude transforms frustration into motivation.
5. Consistency beats intensity
Showing up every day matters more than doing it all in one go. Even in recovery, consistency is what brings you back to strength.
The Psychology of Listening to Your Body
Listening to your body is not just physical. It’s psychological. When you’re in tune with your body, you reduce stress and anxiety. You become more present. You learn patience.
Athletes often call it “body awareness” or “mind-body connection.” In mindfulness practice, it’s known as “embodiment” – the idea that being present in your body grounds you in the moment.
When you’re injured, this awareness becomes even more important. Instead of fighting your limits, you honor them. Instead of resenting your body for slowing down, you thank it for healing. That mindset makes all the difference.
Carrying This Lesson Forward
My injury won’t last forever. In 2 months, I’ll be back to running longer distances, cycling with my team, and swimming in open water. But I don’t want to forget what this moment has taught me.
I want to remember the gratitude I felt walking those 8 loops. I want to keep listening closely, not just when I’m injured, but all the time. I want to carry this patience, this respect for my body, into every training session ahead.
Because in the end, racing is not about how fast you can push your body. It’s about how well you can listen to it, care for it, and trust it.
A Gentle Reminder for You
So if you’re reading this and you’re in a season of recovery or maybe you’re just tired, stressed, or pushing yourself too hard, take a moment to pause. Ask yourself: what is my body telling me today?
Maybe it’s asking for more water. Maybe it’s craving rest. Maybe it wants you to step outside for fresh air. Maybe it’s ready to be challenged again. Whatever it is, listen.
Because when you listen closely, your body will always guide you home.