The Injury

On a typical overcast day in Vancouver, while on a simple training run, I returned home to a twinge of discomfort in my left foot. Initially attributing it to worn-out shoes—often a precursor to knee pain or shin splints—I dismissed the discomfort, believing a shoe upgrade would suffice.

However, as the days passed, the soreness lingered. It grew more pronounced, igniting a slow-burn irritation that became harder to ignore. Weeks later, what started as a whisper transformed into a persistent voice calling for attention.

Anxiety crept in, prompting me to self-diagnose with the help of Google. The pain localized to my arch and heel, and soon enough, I feared the worst: plantar fasciitis. While many runners have battled this condition, I had thus far escaped its clutches—until now.

A visit to my physiotherapist confirmed my fears, shattering my hopes of maintaining my running streak.

Despite my attempts to adjust my pace and distance, the pain persisted. I had endured minor injuries over the years—sprains and rolled ankles—but this felt different. The pain intensified to the point where even a 2.5-mile run became a struggle, forcing me to reconsider my streak.

After a few more days of futile running, I faced the reality that I needed to pause. I hoped that a break would allow my body to heal, enabling a swift return to running.

Weeks passed with little change. I diligently completed my physiotherapy exercises, yet the pain worsened. My doctor ordered a CT scan, leading to a diagnosis of bilateral stress fractures in my left calcaneus and right cuboid. Six weeks of immobilization followed—no walking, cycling, or running.

Those six weeks were among the toughest of my life. Despite my self-improvement knowledge, I found it challenging to maintain a positive outlook. Ironically, trying to convince myself that the injury was beneficial only deepened my struggles.

Emerging from this dark period, I held onto the hope of healing. The standard recovery timeline was 8 to 12 weeks, but my journey did not follow a smooth trajectory. My feet flared up weekly, creating a tumultuous emotional and physical experience of hope and setbacks.

Further imaging revealed a cocktail of issues: plantar fasciitis, partial plantar tears, and tendinitis—an unfortunate combination that dashed my hopes of returning to running in August.

Creative Challenges

Many encouraged me to view injuries as opportunities to explore other passions. I had hoped that this downtime would allow me to focus on writing, but the absence of my daily cardio left me feeling sluggish. Running was integral to my creative process, and without it, I felt stifled. My thoughts fixated on the injury, making it difficult to cultivate creativity.

Instead of channeling my energy into new goals, I found myself mindlessly scrolling through TikTok and Instagram, observing others live the life I craved. This frenetic distraction further eroded my focus and creativity.

My writing sessions dwindled to mere ten-minute intervals, a stark contrast to the two-hour blocks I used to enjoy. The quality of my work declined, further discouraging me and perpetuating my creative drought.

Internet Distraction

The injury hijacked my creative energy, trapping me in a cycle of waiting—waiting for test results, appointments, and healing. I became unrecognizable, someone with aspirations but no action, obsessed with quick results rather than the journey itself.

I shifted from being a creator to a consumer, losing my sense of self. Social media only fueled my anxiety and diminished my ability to concentrate.

Brad Stulberg discussed this phenomenon in his article, "Internet Brain is a Real Thing." He outlines how excessive internet use leads to an inability to concentrate, an incessant urge to check notifications, and a constant adrenaline rush between excitement and anxiety. I found myself guilty of this behavior.

To reclaim my focus and energy, I resolved to delete all social media apps from my phone for at least three weeks. While this may seem trivial, it marked the first time in a decade that I had disconnected for an extended period.

Initially, I anticipated counting down the days until I could reinstall the apps, but to my surprise, I felt no urge to return.

Life Without Social Media

You might think three weeks is insignificant, but after a decade of constant connectivity, the change was profound. Instead of eagerly awaiting my return to social media, I found tranquility.

Within days, I experienced significant transformations: increased presence, relaxation, and focus. I engaged more deeply in conversations, enjoying richer relationships. Gone were the moments of mindless scrolling; I replaced them with reading articles on Medium.

I resumed meditation, attending a local center for guided sessions and group practices. Rather than resisting the discomfort in my feet, I learned to accept and acknowledge my healing journey.

Sitting through an hour of meditation was uncomfortable, yet it restored my focus and discipline, allowing me to engage consistently in my creative work—even when motivation waned.

As a creator and blogger, I felt compelled to use social media to grow my audience and maintain engagement. Fear of losing followers kept me tethered, but letting go of these concerns to prioritize my mental health proved liberating.

My Instagram presence revolved around a running persona, yet I hadn’t run in five months. I now aimed to redefine my narrative—not who I was, but where I was headed.

There were moments when I acted for the sake of posting, even engaging in activities I didn't genuinely enjoy. During hikes, I found myself more focused on capturing the perfect shot than enjoying the experience.

Digital living had become a quest for validation.

Though I missed the dopamine hits from social media, I also escaped the anxiety spikes that followed each app opening. My friends checked in through calls and texts, and I started writing more, even if my work wasn’t at my usual standard.

Recovery would take time, and I aimed to be gentle with myself, letting go of rigid timelines. Eventually, when I return to social media, I will need to establish boundaries around my usage. For now, I relish the peace that comes from living for myself.

My new book, "Find Your Stride: A Personalized Path to Sustainable Nutrition and Training," is now available everywhere books are sold. If you enjoy my articles on Medium, you might find it intriguing. Follow me on Medium for more of my latest writings.