When the doctor says “NO more running”, what’s next?
Over a year ago, I visited the doctor because of persistent pain in my right knee. I couldn’t quite pinpoint how it started or what was wrong, but I vividly remember being unable to squat with my usual range of motion, and every attempt came with sharp discomfort. Despite the pain, I continued to teach my strength classes at the YMCA, hiking, running, and maintaining my regular activities. I had just completed the Catskills 3,500 challenge, hiking all the mountains over 3,500 feet in the New York Catskills region.
My sports doctor initially recommended physical therapy, but I couldn’t begin until February 2024. As time went on, my knee showed little improvement. Then, at the end of June, five months into physical therapy, I took a fall on the basketball court and nearly broke my hand. That was my wake-up call—I knew I needed to see the doctor again. Determined, I still completed my planned backpacking trip on the New York section of the Appalachian Trail but scheduled an appointment with my sports doctor as soon as I returned. This time, he ordered an MRI, which took another three weeks to schedule.
On August 13th, I had the MRI done, and three days later, my sports doctor called with the news I wasn’t expecting. I remember that day vividly because I answered the call thinking he would have something positive to say. Instead, he said, “Joycelyn, the MRI shows a defect in the right lateral condyle of your femur, and you may need surgery.” Pause… “And you cannot run.”
At first, I thought I was dreaming and hadn’t heard him correctly, so after the call, I logged into my online chart to review the visit summary and his recommendations for an orthopedist. There it was, in bold, all-caps letters: “NO RUNNING.”
This is when I felt like someone had taken a sword, pierced it through my heart, and twisted it several times. I was numb for days. I didn't know what to say or how to act. I needed to process all of it.
In all the processing I was still determined to complete the races I was training for all year. I’ve been training for the New York City Marathon 2024 after running nine races last year and volunteering for one to qualify for the 9+1 NYRR entry. I was still hopeful that physical therapy would help and that I’d still be able to at least run and walk. I was thinking I’d go to the orthopedist doctor and he’ll say something like “You’re fine, it’s nothing a little bit of physical therapy can't help and you’ll be able to run again soon.
The orthopedic surgeon ordered a CT scan to get a clearer picture of what was happening inside my knee. Meanwhile, as the days passed and I was put on a strict no-running plan, I had to figure out how to adjust. I started walking—following my usual training plan but replacing the runs with miles of walking around my neighborhood. I walked nearly every day, often meeting up with the Rockaway running crew in the mornings to join two other runners training for the NYC marathon. Occasionally, I’d head to Montclair to walk with the Speed Lemurs. Getting out of bed most mornings felt like a battle, and a part of me still couldn’t fully accept the situation. It felt unreal as if I was in denial. I was. There are things in life you learn to live without, but for me, running wasn’t one of them.
So now that I’ve shared with you my current running debacle, I must go back to where it all started for me, back to the beginning when I was 16 years old and was having suicidal ideations. In my contemplation, this is where God led me to run as a way to heal. I was feeling very down in the ruts and at 16 years old I had no idea that my childhood trauma would mentally try to take me out. I started walking, which led to a slow jog. I just wanted the scrambled feeling in my head to stop, I wanted the pain to stop, the void to be gone. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I’m so happy looking back at that time that God found me at my crossroads. This wasn’t my first rodeo, at 12 years old, I did try to harm myself.
My Dad, may he continue to rest in peace, gave us the anchor of prayer and faith even with his struggles. So, at that moment I cried out to God and I said “God if you’re real and if you can hear me, tell me what my purpose is on this earth so I can want to stay here. The clouds didn't open up and lightning did not strike in the distance. God answered as I felt a sense of peace and hope when I heard the voice say “Your purpose is to give voice to the voiceless, to advocate for children, to be what 8-year-old Joy needed, so go out into the world and do that. At 16 years old I didn’t understand what that meant but I knew it meant standing up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves.
Mark Twain once said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
To find that out at such a young age was affirming for me. You see as a child, I was doing that already. I was not a stand-on-the-bleachers and watch-the-game kinda person if any injustice was happening to a child or kids my age. I was and still am the “get involved” and “stand up for others” type. So when I felt that in my spirit, as I prayed that day over 25 years ago, I felt at that moment God answered my prayer.
It’s been over 20 years of running toward my destiny and being obedient to what God told me that day I was having those suicidal thoughts. I don’t run to run races, I run almost every day for my mental health. I’ve had a long road in overcoming the PTSD, anxiety, and depression that came from my childhood of trauma and sexual abuse. I didn’t have an outlet besides believing in someone bigger than me (God) and having the faith my father had. Running for me is one way I show gratitude to God for giving me the gift of running and saving my life so many times. I’m not a very fast runner, but I’m a runner, marathoner, ultra-marathoner.
Back to that day in the doctor’s office when he said “NO running” I thought this was a denial because when he said it, it sounded like a finite thing. I had to believe for bigger and better, so no more running for now is what I told him. I had to believe God's plan for me wasn’t this and this was just a temporary bump in the road. Some days are harder than others but I am relentless.
Fast forward to October 2024. I had already signed up for the New York City Marathon and I decided to run for an organization that helps survivors of human trafficking and gender-based violence. I’ve been a member of the Mentari organization for quite a few years and with the work that I’ve seen them do to continue to support survivors it was a no-brainer to set a small goal of $2,620 dollars for this program. The link to donate will be at the end of this blog.
I also signed up for the Mammoth March 2024 in Harriman State Park, which is a 20-mile hike with a completion time of 8 hours. This event was supposed to be one of my 20-mile training runs for the New York City Marathon. I planned to run, but things changed and I ended up just having to walk it because the doctors recommended no running, right?
It was 20 miles of beautiful fall foliage, lots of rocks, conversations with hiking buddies, and a lot of reflecting on my journey of running.
After finishing the Mammoth match this weekend, all 20 miles of walking up and down the trails with Elita and Novelette. We were separated and hiking on our own for the last six miles.
As I was coming to the finish line at the 20-mile marker, they were playing the songs “Eye of the Tiger” and “Final Countdown” and if you’re a runner especially running a race, you must know these songs. It’s one of those running anthems. I crossed the finish line, got my medal, sat down, and watched while others were coming in. Some walking, some running. The crazy emotions that come over you at the finish line are sometimes unexpected. As the songs played in the background my eyes began to water, and all the feelings and emotions just culminated at this point.
One minute, I was training for one of the World Major Marathons and the next, I found myself sidelined. However, I managed to complete 20 miles of hiking and walking without any pain in my knees, which brought me tears of joy amidst the struggles of this season. These tears were also tinged with grief and sadness. While it may not seem significant to some, this journey is a monumental deal for me, and those who know me well understand how deeply this has affected my life. I set a goal to write one blog post each month this year, and I’ve penned this entry to raise awareness about mental health and the importance of being able to pivot in challenging times. I also want to ask for your support in my mission to help survivors of human trafficking.
