I've never bothered too much with injuries. Don't admit there's anything wrong with you and it will probably go away. It's how we learned the game I suppose, just look after yourself and don't expect any help. Some years ago I left a pink trail in the snow down a mountain in Kyrgyzstan, a place where the possibility of rescue varies from remote to non-existent. The elation of bagging a virgin peak had been somewhat dampened by a bit of incompetence early in the descent; I was still trying to decide whether I had a broken ankle inside my climbing boot when my companion in crime noticed it first. "Hey, you're leaking". "What? Oh, right, I think I'll leave looking at that until we get down". Can't take a joke, shouldn't have joined.
Things fix themselves eventually. So when I took up trail running I had a lot of time for the Joss Naylor approach, "If there's something that ails you, you've just got to shrug it off", and it's seen me through nearly five years of fairly busy activity.
I must be getting soft, or old, or maybe both.
Recently I went along to the physio for the scheduled 3 monthly visit to check that mobility in my lower back hadn't got any worse, and mentioned that I had some soreness in the Achilles/calf area. Let's check it out she said, digging around a bit. Then........ this really isn't great, we need to work on it, forget about your back until we have this sorted out and absolutely no running until then. Three "interesting" massage sessions over the following week or so, each leaving me feeling worse than when I went in but better after a day or two, and she said I was good to go. But there were strings attached. The first day I could run 2 miles at 10 minute mile pace, stopping for a stretch in the middle. And so on. I think getting back is going to take a while.
So I'm not as unbreakable as I thought. A fair degree of hubris exposed and chastened. I'll maybe heed the signs a bit more in future.