My Story

 

For years, I believed I was the injury-prone guy.

As a high school and college athlete, I frequently found myself on the sidelines. Two knee surgeries. Strained hamstrings. Injury after injury in college baseball. It was a big piece of what ultimately led me to pursue becoming a physical therapist.

After my college baseball career ended, I went to physical therapy school and was looking for a way to stay active, manage stress, and improve my health amidst my studies. Running felt like it had potential to be that outlet. I was more of a sprinter growing up having played baseball, football, and ran track. And this longer distance, recreational running idea was a foreign concept that felt like it would be a fun change of pace to try.

So, I started running. And it was hard at first, but I loved it! It was freeing. I experienced the infamous runner’s high. Ultimately, it was a fun way to get outside, explore the new city I was in, and have an outlet from school.

Yet, alas, it didn’t take long for a variety of new and exciting injuries to surface.

Same song, different verse.

It started with knee pain and achilles tendinitis. Then, one morning, I rolled out of bed and noticed a sharp pain at the bottom of my heel. Indeed, it was plantar fasciitis that stopped by for what turned out would be a prolonged visit. Kind of like when you really love your new apartment, so you decide to extend your lease.

I write this jokingly and sarcastically, but if I’m actually being real with you, it was hard.

It was a hopeless and deeply frustrating feeling. Tacking this onto the long history of injuries I’d experienced growing up was extremely discouraging. Every new setback seemed to confirm the same story I’d been telling myself for years:

“I’m the injury-prone guy.”

I felt like I was trapped in a body that had (very) strict limits on how much it would allow me to move. I remember sitting at home after class watching runners go by outside and feeling a surge of envy, thinking what I’d give to trade places with them.

I just wanted to be a pain-free, healthy, and consistent runner. More than this, though, I wanted freedom in my body. To simply have the ability to go out for a run without fear of it breaking down.

For most of these injuries, I tried lots of resting, stretching, kinesiotaping, and waiting until I was pain-free before giving running a try again. Each approach made sense to me at the time, but all led to the same cycle I was stuck in: temporary relief, another attempt at running, another setback, and even deeper frustration.

With every failed attempt to come back, that identity dug in even deeper. I stopped seeing these injuries as temporary obstacles and started seeing them as evidence of who I was. I believed there was something fundamentally wrong with my body. It felt like other people had bodies they could trust, while mine was always waiting to fail me.

The hardest part wasn’t any of the physical pain I was experiencing, but rather, the growing certainty that I would never actually become that free, strong, and healthy runner I’d wanted to be.

Things began to shift on one of my clinical rotations when a running physical therapist I worked with suggested I try running even with mild pain. My plantar fasciitis was still on its prolonged stay and had been hanging out at a ~3/10 pain for a few months. I was waiting to be pain-free before running again when this PT suggested I try giving running a go, and seeing how my foot responds. I thought he was crazy.

But, there was something about his matter-of-fact-ness that made me begin to entertain the thought that my body might not be “fundamentally broken”, and that it, too, might respond to the principles I was learning in school and in the clinic.

Something about this experience allowed me to fully believe that the body adapts to load, and running is simply another form of load the body can adapt to.

Even my body.

So, I began to run again.

I started to rebuild through structured run-walk intervals, carefully managing training variables like intensity, frequency, and volume. I added runner-specific strength training exercises to build bone, muscle, and tendon resilience. I made small changes to my running mechanics to slightly alter the distribution of stresses. Finally, I focused on building up by duration over distance, and slowly progressed towards longer, continuous running as I monitored how my plantar fasciitis responded.

One minute of running turned into two minutes.

Two minutes turned into five.

Eventually, I was running for thirty minutes.

Then sixty.

Ninety…

Throughout this process, not only was my foot pain manageable - eventually, I looked back and realized that there was no lingering pain at all.

"This seems promising,” I thought.

So, I kept going.

Fast-forward four months, and I ran my first marathon after training consistently at 40-50 miles per week - way more than I’d ever run before - with zero injuries throughout the entire process.

It was a massive breakthrough, one of those things that one-year-ago Casey would have said there is no way could happen. Too good to be true.

But, that's exactly what happened. I was an injury-free marathon runner!

However - while this was a big step - looking back, I wouldn’t call myself a healthy runner.

I had learned how to train my body, but I still hadn't learned how to fuel it so that I felt at my best. I was leaving a lot on the table from a performance and general health standpoint.

A couple of years after the marathon, I was still running, but I noticed a gradual drift. I just didn’t feel as sharp.

It crept in almost sneakily. I felt sluggish, foggy, and like I was running my life at 80%. The energy I used to have wasn't there, and I didn't feel quite like myself anymore. I kept brushing it aside. Looking back, I think part of me didn't want to look at it too closely or address what I was feeling head-on. I'm the guy who's supposed to know this stuff and is supposed to be walking the walk of a “fit runner” lifestyle.

A lot was going on in my life at the time (namely, getting married). And after coming home from our honeymoon, I stepped on the scale and had a real, “Oh crap” moment.

I weighed 191 pounds.

My stomach dropped.

It felt like it was just yesterday I had weighed in at 165 pounds before running my marathon.

I’d gained over 25 pounds.

Yikes.

And while I’m sure the copious amounts of sushi I consumed on our six-day honeymoon didn’t help, I knew this was a culmination of not taking my nutrition seriously for a much longer period of time.

I realized I had been operating under a belief that since I was running, my eating habits didn’t matter as much.

“I went on a run today, so I earned it!” I’d say to justify eating whatever, whenever.

My nutrition was unstructured. I ate lots of processed foods. I ate based on availability. And I didn’t think much about how any of it might impact my health or running performance.

So, after seeing that 191 number, I began to take it seriously.

Instead of “dieting”, I started thinking in terms of what would best support my body.

I focused on eating foods that nourished me, building meals around protein, sleeping better, tuning into my body’s hunger and fullness cues, and aiming for consistency rather than perfection. (I knew I couldn’t be perfect as I wasn’t about to give up an occasional dessert or my nightly Honey Nut Cheerios routine.)

Ultimately, I stopped asking, “How much can I get away with?” and started asking, “How can I give my body what it needs?”

Eventually, things started to align. My weight was trending down. I had more energy on a regular basis. And my runs were feeling noticeably stronger.

Fast forward to today, and I:

• Lost 21 lbs, now weighing 170 lbs
• PR’d my 5K in 20:11 (gunning for sub-20 this year)
• Am running 5x/week, injury-free
• Finally feel great in my body

It was a long road, but by living through this process, everything clicked.

Becoming a healthy runner was never just about running. It was never about any race or finish time. It was about building a lifestyle that allowed my body to thrive.

Making these changes required some discipline, but it has been 1000% worth it. Both in my running and in my everyday life, I can gratefully say that this is the best I have ever felt both physically and mentally.

I no longer see my body as fragile, broken, or working against me.

I see it as one system that is adaptive, responsive, and capable of really cool things when I give it what it needs.

Through much trial and error, I’ve experienced first-hand how sensible training, fueling well, and sound injury prevention strategies all support each other to allow my body to not just get by, but function at its best.

As Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."

When training, nutrition, and injury prevention work best together as one system - as a cord of three strands - the body thrives.

This system has given me something I never had before: freedom in my body, confidence to go forward, and control over my health.

Today, I can confidently say I am not the injury-prone guy.

I am a healthy and pain-free runner.

I share my story in the hope that it sheds light on what might be possible for you.

When I started coaching others through this same process, I assumed it would mostly click for people like me - former athletes, people with a background in this stuff. 

However, some of the people it's worked best for are the ones who'd never called themselves a runner in their lives. Who never thought of themselves as athletic. Who were certain they were "just not runners." Same principles. Same result.

Seeing this happen expanded on a truth of my own story: the body adapting to the right inputs isn't an athlete thing. It's a human thing.

Your body is built to move and live well. Sometimes we just need a little assistance to get on the path to doing so.

You don't have to accept recurring injuries or poor health as your identity. If you are struggling to get the results you want, consider that your body may not be an anomaly - it may just need the right inputs, applied consistently, and viewed as part of a bigger picture.

Whether your goal is to lose weight, run pain-free, or simply feel better in your own skin, your body is far more adaptable and resilient than you think - and I hope you get to experience the same freedom in yours that I finally found in mine.

Thanks for being here! For any questions, or just to say hi, I'd love to hear from you. Feel free to reach out to me directly at drcasey@r4ucoaching.com.