Running Setback After Surgery: When Training Falls Apart Overnight
- 23 hours ago
- 4 min read
Training blocks have a rhythm to them. Weeks stack into months, and miles build quietly before they start to demand something of you. You sharpen the edges, pace, effort, nutrition, until everything begins to feel intentional. Over time, you stop guessing and start trusting the process.
Each run becomes a small promise kept, a steady step forward. You tick them off one by one, moving closer to the goal without needing to rush it.
Nine Weeks Into a Running Training Block
That’s exactly where I was, nine weeks deep into my latest running training block. Fully committed, locked in, and starting to feel the benefit of consistency. I’d been using the Runna Coaching App, which has become a trusted part of the process. Seeing the plan laid out ahead and the completed runs stacking up behind gives a real sense of momentum. It makes progress feel tangible.
That Thursday, I’d just finished a tough interval session, 1km repeats at 6:45 pace. It was solid, probably an 8 out of 10. I hit the targets on paper, but something felt slightly off. There should have been a bit more there, another gear I couldn’t quite access. It wasn’t a bad session, just not quite where I expected to be.
When a Running Training Block Falls Apart
What happened next wasn’t a gradual decline or a slow warning sign. It was sudden and complete.
Everything I’d been building over those nine weeks disappeared almost instantly. It felt less like slipping off track and more like being thrown off it entirely, momentum gone, control gone, the whole block collapsing in a way I couldn’t stop.
With three weeks to go until race day, it was hard to process. “Gutted” doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Looking back now, that moment marked the beginning of a running setback after surgery, although at the time, I had no idea how serious things were about to become.
Sudden Illness During Marathon Training
By Friday morning, I knew something wasn’t right. By lunchtime, I was being sick repeatedly, almost every hour. The pain was building steadily, turning from discomfort into something far more intense and impossible to ignore.
By 11pm, it had escalated into something overwhelming. I was at my parents’ house that weekend, where I’d been planning a completely different kind of run, starting at Jeremy Clarkson’s pub, The Farmer’s Dog, and heading over to Diddly Squat farm to meet friends. It was meant to be a good day.
Instead, my parents made the decision to call 111, and an ambulance was sent.
The pain is difficult to describe in any meaningful way. It was deeper and more consuming than anything I’ve experienced before. Even with significant amounts of morphine, enough to raise eyebrows later on the ward, it barely took the edge off.
Emergency Gallbladder Surgery and Recovery
From there, everything moved quickly. Scans, observations, drips, one decision leading straight into the next.
I was put nil by mouth, and before long, it was clear what needed to happen.
Emergency surgery.
My gallbladder had to be removed.
Afterwards, the surgeon told me it was one of the worst cases they’d seen, severely inflamed and beyond saving. I wasn’t entirely sure whether to take that as a strange kind of achievement or not.
I had already managed to catch him slightly off guard before the operation. After explaining everything, he asked if I had any questions. My response was simple: “When can I run again?” The look on his face probably said more than any answer could.
Running Setback After Surgery: The Mental Impact
With my history of cancer, nothing is ever taken lightly. The condition of my gallbladder has raised concerns, and it’s now with histology for further investigation. Waiting for results again is something I never really get used to, and if I’m honest, it’s not something I wanted to face again.
At the same time, everything I’d been working towards has fallen away. No running, no race, and no charity event that I’d been building in collaboration with Krispy Kreme to support ChemoHero. Plans don’t just pause, they disappear.
This running setback after surgery isn’t just about the physical recovery. It’s about the sudden loss of direction, the break in momentum, and the emotional weight that comes with it.
Starting Again After a Running Setback
So this is where I am now. Recovering from a major operation, in pain, and trying to come to terms with how quickly everything changed. The road back feels long, and at this stage, uncertain.
In many ways, it feels familiar. It takes me back to 2021, when cancer first forced me away from running and everything came to a stop. That same sense of interruption, of having something taken away just as it started to feel within reach.
Right now, it’s hard to see beyond this point or to make sense of why it’s happened.
But I’m holding on to the idea that there is a reason, even if it isn’t clear yet. That this is still part of the journey, however difficult it feels in the moment.
Right now, it’s hard to see much beyond this moment. Hard to find the light in it.
But I’m trying to believe it’s there.
That this, somehow, is still part of the journey.
Even this running setback after surgery.
I just don’t know yet where it’s leading.
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