F*** Shin splints

An open letter to a bastard of an injury

Dearest shin splints,


First things first - F*** you.

Whenever I get up in the morning, you are there. Whenever, I start running, you decided to turn being “there” into “oh, are you trying to run? Not today.” F*** you.

Sometimes I set out to just lose weight. Other times, I start a running program to challenge myself. But, nevertheless, you always decide to join me on the journey. F*** you.

I’ve gone online and I’ve tried the at-home remedies. They did not work. F*** you.

I’ve gone into multiple physiotherapists. They tried their best, but you’re an absolute wanker of an injury and you just come back as fast as you leave. F***you.

Best solution to all the above - rest? F*** off. My competitive ass won’t allow it. F*** you.

Why don’t you just pack your bags and take a hop, skip and a jump to f***-off-ville? F*** you.

Because you’re such a pleb and bane on my existence, I decided to study you. Yeah, that’s right you bastard. F*** you.

Are you also battling the injury? I will forward all the information and research I find to you - just join below.


Let's beat this injury,

Ben