Listening to the Body: What Running Taught Me About Taking the Next Step

There is an old adage often spoken in coaching rooms and somatic practices: the body doesn’t lie.

It sounds simple enough, almost poetic. Yet for most of us, day-to-day life is an exercise in head-first momentum. We rush from one priority to the next, complete tasks, solve immediate crises, and plan the week ahead. In that constant forward motion, we rarely drop down out of our heads to notice what our bodies are experiencing. Unless, of course, the alarm bells are deafening.

When you have a blocked nose or a temperature, the signal is unmistakable. Your body commands your attention. But the vast majority of bodily signals aren't blaring sirens; they are subtle, quiet murmurs. And unless we deliberately pause to listen, we miss what they are desperately trying to tell us.

The Cost of Ignoring the Murmurs

Like many people who find joy, sanity, and energy in the outdoors, sport is core to who I am. Running, cycling, football - they aren't just hobbies; they are how I process thoughts, reset, and feel grounded.

So when an ongoing knee injury pulled me away from running, it felt like a significant part of my routine had been abruptly unplugged. Over the past few months, I made several attempts to return to the road, only to be met with resistance. My body simply wasn't cooperating in the way I expected it to.

Then came a genuine scare.

Last week, severe swelling and localized pain led, via some great support from smart, committed and organised NHS professionals, to an urgent query: was it a deep vein thrombosis (DVT)? Sitting with the prospect of a blood clot is unsettling to say the least. Fortunately, clinical scans ruled that out and revealed something I’d never heard of before: a ruptured Baker’s cyst. When an underlying joint issue flares up, excess synovial fluid can build behind the knee and leak into the surrounding muscle, causing swelling and pain that mimic a clot almost identically.

It was a relief to have an explanation for the swelling. Looking back, though, I was also beginning to recognise something separate from the diagnosis: how much uncertainty about running I had been carrying for weeks.

The Anatomy of Relief

Rewind to just a few days prior. I had an in-depth telephone appointment with Ben, an NHS physiotherapist. We talked through the mechanics, but we also talked through what really mattered: my passion for getting back outside, my frustrations, and my honest expectations.

Instead of a vague "rest and see," he gave me a clear, structured roadmap to rebuild strength and stability. Critically, the conversation wasn't framed around if I’d run again, it was simply a matter of when.

What happened next was profound, and it had very little to do with intellect.

As I completed that first rehabilitation session, I felt a literal, physical shift. A tangible lightness as I felt my shoulders unhook from around my ears and drop several inches.

Until that moment of release, I hadn't consciously registered how much tension and quiet dread I had been carrying in my physical frame. Because running is so entwined with my identity and wellbeing, the fear of losing it had lodged itself directly into my muscles. My mind had rationalized and pushed through; my body had absorbed the stress.

Four Check-Ins to Ground Your Next Step

For me, embodiment means noticing physical experience alongside thoughts and feelings, rather than treating them as separate conversations. In practice, that can start with some quiet moments spent: noticing what I feel, what is on my mind and what matters enough to act on.

If you find yourself in the thick of a full schedule, navigating a transition, or simply feeling an undefined sense of friction, try pausing for three deep breaths and asking yourself:

1. What is my body feeling right now? Where is the tightness, the heaviness, or the lightness? What are your shoulders, jaw, or stomach holding on your behalf?
2. What is genuinely on my mind? Beneath the surface tasks and daily logistics, what is the underlying narrative occupying your mental bandwidth?
3. What are my real priorities? When you look at how you are spending your days versus what brings you life, where is the misalignment?
4. What is the resonant next action? Not the action you feel "obligated" to take, but the one that would genuinely allow your shoulders to drop?

When you connect what you think with what you physically feel, the path forward tends to clarify itself. Decisions become less about willpower and more about alignment.

Choosing the Path Forward

Often, we reach a junction in life, whether that’s a career crossroads, a shift in health, or a recalibration of where we invest our energy, where the way forward feels clouded by competing demands. We know something needs to shift, but we can't quite articulate what it is until we voice it in a dedicated, objective space.

That is the heart of developmental coaching: creating a trusted environment to slow down, listen to what your life and your body are communicating, and identify the resonant choices that move you toward authentic wellbeing.

If you are standing at a crossroads and want to explore what truly matters for your next chapter, I would be delighted to connect for an introductory conversation.

Take a breath, listen to what your body is telling you today, and let that guide your next step.

Author: Simon Walker, Director, RLS. November 2026

#Embodiment #Coaching #SelfAwareness #Wellbeing #PersonalDevelopment

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