But this is ridiculous. I've been running for less than 6 months now, and two of those months were spent entirely indoors -- and I've got five pairs of running shoes. A veritable stable. I started with the Mizuno Alchemy 6's that I bought about a year ago, and "broke in" with lots and lots of walking (really fast walking, but still walking). There was an occasional jog thrown in there for a minute or two, but it was mostly walking. They sure were nice to have on hand, though, when I moved over to running. But then they started to feel "weird" in the toe (what I can now call the 'toe box,' being these days far too familiar with all the parts of the running shoe) and I was advised that it was probably time to get another pair. I was also advised to try a different brand, so my feet didn't "get used to" just one shoe (and now I'm thinking, "What's wrong with that?"). I went to one running store, and they were really pushing New Balance for me, even though they felt a little weird -- too broad -- on my feet. I took them home, tried them once, hated them immediately, and was told I couldn't return them because they were used. Huh?!?!?! (And guess where I'm not going to buy running shoes or socks or shorts or shirts or gloves or hats or glasses or water bottles or even Gu any more).
I thereby returned to the running store where I bought my Mizunos and was informed that I am an over-pronator, even with these Eiffel Tower arches, and need a stability shoe - hence the Brooks Something-Or-Others I bought as advised. Well, guess what? I'm not so much of an overpronator. These are the shoes in which I injured myself most severely, so they are now my "rehab shoes" that I wear around town, etc. on super-duper casual days. I even wore them into surgery once - just once. It made me nuts not to be able to whip my shoe off and use my bare foot on the laser pedal.
While injured, I did my own research, and learned that people with arches like mine are almost always supinators, meaning my ankle bends outward when I run, and the worst thing for me to be in is a shoe, such as a stability model, that prevents pronation. Aw, dang it! So I dug around a little, and that's when I found my Harry Potter shoes - the Asics Gel Nimbus 9(000). I tried on about 10 pairs of shoes that day, and these fit like a dream. I saw the price, and just about croaked before asking for a possibly less expensive version. The owner of the running store was very accommodating, but no go - wearing these Nimbus 9's is really like walking on clouds, and nothing even came close in comparison. The owner was, thankfully, incredibly kind and gave me a whopping discount, I think since I'd bought the ill-advised Brooks there as well.
I really do love my Nimbuses. For the first 4 or 5 miles, that is. After that, they get a little squooshy all around, and that's when I notice that I've given up support in exchange for cush. These things are wonderful, fantastic, and amazing for the shorter runs - but I needed something, obviously, that can go the distance - 13.1 miles, to be exact.
So, now I'm back to a new pair of Mizuno Alchemy 7's, and I love love love them. I love them. I've done two long runs in them now, and they're just perfectly broken in (as well as a 1/2 size bigger than the old ones). They've been muddied a bit, and they fit like a dream. More importantly, I can run over small rocks on Mile 8 and barely notice. I can pronate to my heart's content, or at least as much as is healthy for my wispy little chicken ankles. On Race Day, they ought to be just what the doctor ordered, and thank goodness my shoe-buying frenzy appears to be over. Now I've got 1 pair of cross-training shoes (a promotion for the Mizuno 6's), one pair of kick-around shoes (the blasted Brooks), one blech pair of shoes waiting to be "re-homed" via Craig's list, and two fantastic pairs of running shoes, which complement each other beautifully over the course of a running week.
And now I know how someone running completely in the buff was able to do a less-than-8-minute-mile right by me on course in San Francisco - it must have been all in the shoes.
- Mood:
amused
I was needless to say pretty exhausted at the end, took a long and very hot shower, stretched a lot, and went to bed early.
At 1:40 am, I was on fire! Everything from the lower back down was aching so badly that it woke me up. I had to get out of bed and find some ibuprofen. My rear end felt like it would have done Clark Griswold from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation proud, at an estimated 1,000 watts per side. My legs were utterly trembling, and I had left my ibuprofen downstairs again. Drat! Today, I feel a bit more mobile but boy could I use a massage. At least, however, it's the "Yeah, it hurts now but you're going to be a whole lot stronger after this, for sure" kind of ache -- the type of soreness where there's only gain at the end. No whisperings of injuries past, and that's what counts. As the crow flied I had only managed 4.5 miles I think (my pedometer was set for interval workouts, and I'm not sure if it accurately records distance) but it felt like I'd trekked about fifty. Maybe next time I'll just go back and forth on trails I know. Aaah-HA!
Now I just have to figure out how to get back up the basements stairs to get ready for work.
- Mood:
ouchy
This is the first team run in which I have been able to participate for almost 2 months. I drove for 45 minutes this morning down to Hunterdon County, to the High Bridge trailhead: nice and flat, packed gravel over dirt -- perfect for my first long outside run since all those injuries hit me weeks and weeks ago. I recognized some familiar faces, which I hadn't counted on and was a really pleasant surprise. It's amazing to see how well some folks have progressed. Andy was there too, and stuck with me the whole way (very sweet of him; it was very motivating to have someone with me the whole time. He'd also already gotten in 9 miles and still had fresh legs - he has got to be part jackrabbit).
The plan was for me to shoot for 7 miles, and I also planned to run for 10 minutes, then walk and give my legs a rest for 1 minute. Another 10 minutes of running, then 1 walking, and so on, until I reached 7 miles. Easy enough. Then Andy and I got out to the first water stop at 3.5 miles, and I felt stupendous. Amazing. Healthy. Andy started saying something about wanting to do a total of 17 miles that day or something and I interrupted him and said, "I feel great. Let's do 4 out." We turned around at the 4 mile mark, and surprise surprise! The whole way back was a gentle downhill, which meant 1) I did the first 4 miles completely uphill, and 2) the next 4 miles were going to be a relative breeze. We reached the parking lot at the end, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment not only at having run 8 miles, but also at having successfully rehabilitated my legs to a point where I could actually do so.
So here I am, on my way to the New Jersey Half Marathon. My preparation hasn't been exactly what anyone would call routine, but I've learned an awful lot along the way and continue to do so. The unorthodox nature of my journey to the finish line has brought about some radical ideas and ways of thinking in me that are life-changing, for which of course I will always be thankful. But next time, I'll use that progressive thought to prepare for the full 26.2 miles -- and hopefully follow a slightly more traditional training regimen. This weekend I am planning to run 10 miles - hitting double digits for the first time ever - just 3 weeks before my event. Just in the nick of time.
Oh, and I forgot to mention - I did this 8 miles in 1 hour, 20 minutes -- which means a ten-minute mile even including the walking parts, and which makes me not only healed, but also faster, stronger, and more efficient. Now that's exciting.
- Mood:
elated
Today was one of them.
I started reading The Secret last week and as a result I began believing - knowing - that my legs are healed. I began planning for today's run without doubt and with utter faith that all would be well. I pictured and felt so many things in my head:
My fractured bone, completely healed.
The bone-healing process, happening right in my leg.
Five little knobby, grumpy men sitting along my shin bones where the healed shin splints are, content at last.
Texting Andy after my run, telling him it was a huge success and asking for my running plan.
Running in a purple singlet across the finish line on May 4th.
The torn hamstring moving like a rubber band, stretching to accommodate my running but never breaking.
What my new fundraising letters will look like.
Running along the same trail that took me into the Tourne, my favorite run to date.
and that's just a small sampling. Every night I told myself that I couldn't wait until today because I would finally get to run again, not to test out my leg but simply to resume my training. I didn't try another "hop test" because I thought that would be necessary only if I didn't believe myself to be fixed. I didn't want today to be a test - I wanted it to be the beginning of my running again. There were times when old thoughts tried to pry into my brain - "What if it's not healed?" "I should make sure I have enough ice on hand." "I should stop if I feel pain [I mean obviously I would, but I didn't even want to think it as a possibility]." "I wonder if I'll still need that doctor's note." It's been difficult to shift my thinking so radically - - I tend to at least be practical, so not having an alternative plan in place was difficult, but I did it. I banished even the smallest seeds of doubt, and I did it consistently through today; I'm still doing it!
This may sound like so much mumbo-jumbo, but it worked. Last Tuesday I hopped on my fractured leg and it still hurt; how far I've come in a week! The plan was this: walk 5 minutes for warm-up, then run 3 minutes, walk 3 minutes, etc. for 30 minutes. I woke up and it looked a little gray outside; I thought nothing of it. As soon as I got out of bed I put on my running clothes, including my running jacket, then went downstairs to check my email. As I was finishing up there, I noticed the local temperature was sitting at 54 lovely degrees - excellent! On the way to Francis' school it started to rain -- just a little bit. When I got home I had a little bit more to eat, and took care of a few other things before setting out. I started to get into my car and thought, "It can only be the Boulevard [formerly known as The Blasted Boulevard, The Dratted Boulevard, and so on] today." So I set out walking, and five minutes later I was at the starting point. Had a nice stretch, and was off.
I ran along the footpath that runs the length of the Boulevard, and it was very soft but not too squelchy. Being outside again was amazing, and being in a light rain, in warm weather, was double the pleasure. I never thought I'd rejoice to feel water seeping through my shoes and between my toes, until today. I needed to run a little uphill and a little downhill here and there, and loved every second. I stuck my foot into some mighty big puddles, splashed myself from head to toe, and it made me grin like a fool. Just when I was getting a little hot and sticky (having already tied my jacket around my waist), the rain fell harder -- not that pelting, "Ouch Mamma Nature!" hard, but just hard enough to wash off the sweat, cool off my scalp, and leave me feeling refreshed. Right after that was when it dawned on me -- not only was I running on 3 healed injuries, but this run was turning out to be almost exactly like a run I have previously described here, which was my introduction to the sheer bliss of running outside, it was that perfect. Ask, and you shall receive. And boy did I. There were a few times when I felt a twinge here and there, and I pictured in my head the various supporting cast members - tendons, ligaments, muscles - jostling for prime position only so they could better serve The Bone. Even the Grumpy Old Men, which I'm now calling my knobby shin splints, have to elbow each other and grumble once in a while before settling into a new homeostasis. That's fine -- it all serves a purpose, and that is to keep my legs healthy.
It's incredible what a shift to positive thinking - truly positive thinking - can do for you. I was able to see clearly so many things I might otherwise have missed, just simple things like the squirrel digging deep into a pile of leaves, with only his very fluffy tail and well-fed haunches sticking out. I've never actually laughed out loud while running, until today. That's how good I felt.
So. It's 13.1 miles for me on May 4th, and I know I am going to finish it. For now, let's hear it for dirty shoes.
- Mood: excited
The shin splints seem to have quieted down, leaving an odd knobbiness on the inside of my left tibia -- a lingering reminder of this difficult winter that is at least no longer painful when I poke around the area that used to be exquisitely tender. I can walk up and down stairs, and uphil and downhill, with no trace of pain. My hamstring tear also seems to be on the back end (no pun intended) of healing, and I just have occasional cramps especially whenever I sit down for more than five minutes. My fitness trainer has tortured me into the best shape of my life, and everything feels like it all works together really well; my legs feel balanced for once, and actually feel strong. I can actually touch my big toe to my nose with no effort, and I know now how important it is to have a strong core. The remaining limiting factor is this stress fracture - is it healed enough to hold up to a month of intense training? It certainly doesn't hurt during my everyday movement, but I'm still failing the "hop" test at least as of Tuesday. On the other hand, Andy put me through some concussive paces yesterday and my leg feels fine today. I am nervous, but hopeful.
So, this week I am supposed to start running again. Finally. It will be the test to see if my legs truly are healed; or perhaps more accurately, how much pain I am going to have to endure to finish this half marathon. I could still defer all of this to another season, but my gut tells me I won't have to do that -- and these days, my gut has been right on. I am nervous, excited, and frightfully eager to get out of the gym and into the world again. I am supposed to start with a run-walk series, and build up to 13 miles in just about 34 days -- just thinking about that makes my scalp feel prickly and my heart all jumpy-around-y. I've lived with pain before; I can do this. If it gets to be unbearable or looks to be threatening permanent injury I'll stop, but I really really really want to do it. (I think I've made that somewhat clear previously).
I guess if there's one good thing about having been injured for essentially 3 months, it's this: It's been a long, cold winter here in New Jersey. I'd say about 1/3 to 1/2 of the days we've had have been really cold, or really windy, or (yuck) both. I don't miss having had to run in that. I'm a wuss when it comes to wind, and my lungs will set up a picket line if I ask them to perform in anything under 25 degrees. Of course, I've also missed a few glorious days in terms of running weather, but hey - there will be plenty of those to come. Let's hope Mother Nature gets her spring mojo going this week.
- Mood:
restless
We have a local spa here - The Urban Muse, and because of my mom I've found a really good deep tissue person who can put me to rights when this muscle or that is out of alignment. She also knows my body really well. It's not that sort of "aaaahhhhhh..." massage you should get when the kids are making you nuts, work is over the top, and the laundry has metastasized into the kitchen. I mean they have those, and I'm sure she could also do massages like that. It's that sort of massage you get when you realize, "Hey! What is my hip bone doing up around my neck?" sort of thing.
Oh - and for local folks: http://www.theurbanmuse.com and her name is Christine. Before I get into the details, I'll say this -- she's amazing and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend her to anyone with musculoskeletal aches and pains.
I met with her today, and we talked for a few minutes about what's going on with my legs. I filled her in on the latest about my injuries, and she said, "So what do you want to do today?" I said I wanted to focus on legs, get these problems worked on, increase blood flow to the shin, and if we had time an upper body once-over would be nice.
What she found was an incredibly tight piriformis muscle and started wrenching on that - ow, ow, ow. When she did that everything that had been hurting in the right leg lit up like Vegas, and after she was done I swore my butt was glowing a rainbow of neon colors. She stretched my leg out, thank goodness, and it felt sooooooo good after that hard work.
On the other leg, she went right to work on the edema and inflammation around my shin; actually, she started with my exquisitely tight calf muscles - they were so tight she said she couldn't get very deep at all. (Which really means, "This is going to hurt like a you-know-what, so brace yourself"). After that I think she took red-hot branding irons to my shins, or at least that's what it felt like.
But as always, I got up off the table and the pain was diminished -- by a lot. A whole lot. It's probably going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but I feel looser than I have in weeks. There is far less pain than when I went into the spa. A big sigh of relief. It's 5 hours later, and I've just run down the stairs, instead of creeping down like an ancient old man, for the first time in weeks.
So I had been looking forward to at least weekly massages as part of my rehabilitation plan. Christine has disabused me of the notion that it will be a nice, relaxing, aromatherapy-filled time where I can gather my thoughts, breathe deeply, and come out relaxed, and refreshed. I'll be breathing deeply all right, but it'll be all I can do to not couple my exhale with a string of curses. I won't be refreshed, either - I'll be better than that, because I will be mobile. And I get to see her again on Tuesday for a reminder - I mean for more massage therapy. I hope she knows I really do love her -- even if we never did get to that upper-body once-over.
- Mood:
healing
It seems that his bigger concern is the horrendous periostitis (inflammation of the bone sheath, or shin splints!) that involves about 2/3 of my lower leg. He said it's one of the worst cases he's ever seen, and I have to rehabilitate that as much as I do my stress fracture. It sure looks dramatic on the MRI, especially the view where the bone is darkened. I've even got pitting edema along my shin bone.
What this means is that it's back to cross-training - i.e., ellipticals and bikes - until the beginning of April. I'm also still working with Andy, the fitness trainer, twice weekly; we just can't do anything that causes impact on that leg. (I left him a phone message yesterday with the results, and after I hung up, I thought, "Tonight's gonna be rough [my meeting with Andy]." Sure enough, my entire upper body has been aching all weekend. I think even my eyelashes hurt). I'm keeping to the mileage schedule that Andy set up for me, and I'm looking forward to shooting out of the starting gate when it's time to run again. Oh - and I have to get massages once a week (at least there's something nice about being so beat up).
So am I disappointed? Heck yeah. I really, really, really wanted to do the marathon -- all 26.2 miles of it. But I'm also excited, since I thought I was done for the season and would have to put off the run until next year. This way, I get to do a 1/2 marathon in probably about 75% good health, and next year I can do the full marathon, better prepared, healthier, and enjoying it more. When Andy and I first decided to trade the full for the half, I was pretty, I don't know, despondent seems barely exaggerated. I wallowed and wailed and gnashed, then pulled myself up by the bootstraps and started formulating my plan based on not being able to run on May 4th at all. I had it all roughed out in my head; so when I got the news that the 1/2 marathon was still a possibility for me, it was like Christmas all over. Excellent.
Does the 1/2 seem like a consolation prize? Sure, on the face of it. But I've been through a lot up to this point on this journey, and part of my mileage is the blood, sweat and tears I've endured since the beginning. On May 4th I'll have come away with just 13.1 miles under my shoes, but immeasurable miles in terms of self-discovery and learning. I'd rather have had a smooth, uneventful trip to the full marathon, but I'll take a rough, bumpy, adversity-laden voyage to the half in exchange. I'm still trying to raise $5,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society; that goal hasn't changed one iota.
So with a stress fracture and shin splints in one leg, and a torn hamstring in the other, I go forward. I am, believe it or not, confident that I can do this. I've had a couple of days to wallow, and now that that's done I've got a clear head and can look forward now to recovery and further training. There's also the carrot of being able to do a full marathon next year dangling in front of me.
But first, this half. Oh - and my leg still hasn't fallen off.
- Mood:
Beat up and upbeat
Except that I woke up in excruciating pain early Monday morning, at about 2am, in my right hamstring. I got out of bed and the left leg started up too, as painful as when it was first injured. It took me an age to get down the stairs, where the ibuprofen is kept. I took 4 of them, and had to wait for the Advil to start working before I could get up the stairs and back into bed. I tried sleeping on the couch but could not for the life of me get comfortable. I tried ice, and that hardly helped. Finally I made it back upstairs and got a little more comfortable, then somehow managed to fall back to sleep.
Fast forward to wake-up time. As soon as I got out of bed everything seemed inflamed, and it took another eon or so to get back downstairs. I could hardly move, but managed somehow to get ready for work and get out the door. Walking hurt. Stairs (up or down, and even just a few of them) were a complete joke. I couldn't stand in one place for long. I couldn't sit either. Thank goodness I had only 3 appointments that morning, and an entire bottle of ibuprofen with me. I was stricken with more acute pain than I've had since Francis was born, and with tremendous frustration, disappointment, and sadness in the dawning realization that this marathon was not going to work out for me. I would commit to the 1/2 marathon, then, and train for that after another week of rest.
This is a bitter pill for me to swallow, and though it's a decision I make with a heavy heart, I also make it with my mind to the future -- and to the present. I have not had a truly lovely run in weeks. I am constantly in discomfort, though some days until now it has been very mild and has not affected my mobility or my daily life at all. I don't know what continuing to train for the full marathon while injured would do for my running prospects in the future. It certainly would not convince me to ever do this again, and I think that would be sad. On top of the other big-time stressors in my life right now, the constant worry over if and/or when I will be injured for good or whether I'll actually be ready for this race feels like the straw that just might break this camel's back.
I think this is the first time I have picked something up and not been able to do what I set out to do. I started riding horses when I was 10, and quickly became really good at it. I was conversational in Spanish in just 6 crazy months when I was a young adult. At the ripe old age of 29 I decided to leave human resources and become a veterinarian, and we know how that turned out. The prospect of parenting terrified me, but I went for it, and prepared as well as I could, and I think I'm a pretty darn good mamma. My kid is certainly turning out pretty well. Some of the things I've done were just about effortless, and some of them were done with months and years of preparation, hard work, blood, sweat and tears... but I've done them. All. Until now.
I was feeling really lousy last night, and Andy and I had a long talk in order to come up with a plan. It's nice that he knows me well enough to know that I'm tough, and determined, and a doer, because his recommendation that I recommit to run the 1/2 marathon instead of the full is reassuring and takes the pressure off me a little. I want to run this 26.2 mile thing so badly, but I see only futility in martyrdom. Yes, I could press on, but I cannot live with the pain I've felt in the last 2-1/2 days. If that was my only choice, well then of course I would -- but it's not. And I'm choosing to try to enjoy running again, and to run for Team In Training more than once in my life. I'm courageous, but I'm not ridiculous.
So, today I went for that MRI. Since Monday I've been thinking there was more to what the doctor was saying than there appeared to be, so when his office called with the OK to go get radiated, I asked to speak with him. He didn't have me run for him because he really thinks this is a stress fracture. That's the same reason we didn't talk about any sort of rehabilitation. I am more confident in our visit after this talk, and so today I had a lovely, 45-minute nap while a really nice lady took all sorts of pictures of my left lower leg. While I was leaving I asked her what she thought, and if she saw anything suspicious; I know some of the technicians at work can read radiographs as well as I can, and I figured that with her 35 years of experience she must have picked up some serious knowledge along the way. Of course, she hedged and said they're so small she can't really see them, but I had the feeling she knew.
And of course, as soon as I got into my car I ripped them out of the envelope to have a look myself.
Last night was a lot of wailing and gnashing for me -- I don't go down easily. This morning, still painful, I was able to get some distance on the problem and start thinking ahead. What's my plan for the 1/2? What if it is a stress fracture and I'm out of the game? What then? What about all the support I've had until now? Now that I've been chewing on not being able to do the full marathon, or the possibility of not running at all this season, it's just another obstacle. I'll run for TNT; I just don't know when or where. I'll do it healthier, too.
Anyway, back to the MRI. I think I can see it, about 1/3 of the way down the tibia -- a little, tiny darkness that looks like a cat hair lying on the film... except that it's repeatable in all the other views. In cross-section, I see something that looks like callus formation (the bony version of scar tissue). On the weighted views (which changes the way things light up), there is some suspicious-looking fluid around that same site. I'm not going to call it. The copy images are too small and my car's dome light isn't exactly the best view box in the world. But I'm prepared for whatever the radiologist has to say. (She wasn't there tonight, dang it).
Stay tuned.
- Mood:
Mixed
I went to
http://www.marathonguide.com/races/races.c
and there are actually more than I thought the Italians would ever be interested in hosting in their country. After all, long distance running as an integral part of la vita bella is a bit of a stretch.
Anyway, you've got to read the reviews of some of the Italian races that are written by past participants. I hope you Italophiles will enjoy the quintessential Italianism in the handling and character of the races.
I love that place.
- Mood: amused
10 miles on a treadmill... now I know what those hamsters feel like, running mindlessly on their little wire wheels. They don't even have iPods, though, or a choice of 6 televisions to keep their minds busy. Of course, they're also not likely to be working, getting their Habitrails ready to sell, raising kids... oh wait - raising babies is what hamsters do, isn't it? I mean, besides sleep in little tiny balls and run on the wheel. So maybe they're on there, running away, thinking about how to get Junior to stop chewing on his sister's ear, or wondering when Junior #2 is going to stop peeing in the nest. No wonder they're on there so long -- lots of kids to think about.
I actually didn't finish the 10 - I stopped running at 9.6 miles because I felt a little twinge in my left knee, and there's no way no way no WAY I'm adding yet another injury to the list. What I did do took me a while, too, so the most important thing I have to say today, to anyone who might be as new to this as I am:
Lesson 1: Don't run the day before your weekly long run. Forget it. Don't. Just do some cross-training or something and save the gas tanks for your long run. (Of course, this may not apply to those who are spryer or healthier than I am).
It took me a while to figure out why I was so tired today. My legs didn't hurt any more than usual, but I just felt fatigued. Hello. I guess my spring-chicken-ness has flown the coop.
Lesson 2: Plan ahead for long runs. I didn't eat particularly well last night; just wasn't really that hungry. Didn't drink much water, either. I ate well enough today, but felt like I woke up behind the 8-ball in terms of stored energy. Last week I woke up ready to go, and thought about what I was doing all week; this week I didn't do that. It hasn't yet become habitual for me to prepare for these long runs -- I'm not in the total rhythm of a long-distance runner in terms of weekly water intake, nutrition balancing, etc. It's all so contrary to what I've been used to, and what the sum total of my life has been... hopefully these lessons will start to stick at some point.
I also realize one reason why distance runs are best done in the morning (warning: graphic content ahead!). It's because in the morning, you don't have an entire day's worth of food waiting to explode out of your body at around mile 8 or so. Runner's trots - look it up. It's not pretty, and it's not all that fun either, though my 5-year-old certainly thinks it's hysterical to hear such noises coming out of the bathroom.
Lesson 3: Try to do these long runs in the morning from now on. Or at least invest in some decent room deodorizer.
OK you can open your eyes now. Graphic content over.
So today I ran farther than I've ever run in my life. The same was true for last weekend. The same will be true for next weekend, and that in itself is a real accomplishment. I'm still not sure whether I'll actually be able to finish training for the marathon or will at some point have to switch to the 1/2, though I know if I get there on race day I will finish if I have to pull myself across the finish line by my teeth. But for now, the trying is good.
And my leg is still attached to my body.
- Mood:
pleased
I got there about 5 minutes early and was checked in by his assistant, then she took my forms and the doctor met her halfway to my exam room. He quickly glanced at the papers I'd brought, then said, "What's the problem?" Um... why did I fill out those papers? So I told him what the problems are, and he began his exam, which seemed pretty thorough. As I expected, much of the examination consisted of range-of-motion and strength testing. He also physically examined both legs. As I did not expect, there was absolutely no running involved. He came up with diagnoses without it -- which is not surprising, but I didn't know how we are going to approach biomechanics without knowing the specifics of my particular conformation and how it relates to my movement.
The diagnoses: "You're pretty beat up!" Specifically, left leg - he wants to rule out stress fracture, even though: 1) The pain is better than when I was first injured, by about 75%; 2) The pain diminishes and sometimes goes away with both calf stretching and running; and 3) my x-rays were GORGEOUS (I have such sexy bone cortices!). I asked about all of these, and his regular response was, "Well, I've seen it happen." At one point he said that he has seen a case like mine, with a diagnosis of shin splints, and the woman kept running -- only to snap her tibia into 2 pieces down the road. Sheesh. So he wants me to get an MRI on that left leg to rule out stress fracture. I'm having a fundamental problem with this, but am inclined to do it once the preauthorization comes through.
Right leg - torn hamstring, healing, on the medial (inside) belly, even though: 1) The pain is on the lateral (outside) aspect only; 2) There is clearly a sore spot on deep manipulation right under that sticky-outy tendon on the back of the knee at the end of the femur, again on the lateral side; 3) There is also a sore spot right at the bottom of my rear end that hurts at the same time (as if there is pain on an origin and an insertion point of some tendon). He said he felt a 'divot' but did not elaborate and I could not feel it when he tried to show me. I may be a veterinarian and more used to looking at quadripeds, but I don't have the benefit of patient verbalization -- so my hands are pretty darn practiced at finding even the slightest abnormality -- think uneven liver border in a 100-pound ottoman terrier! I'm not sure I'm buying this diagnosis at all. I'd think if any part of me needed an MRI it would be my right leg, not my left.
Of course, I asked about rehabilitation and he said that for the left leg we will have to wait to discuss it until the post-MRI follow-up. As for the right leg, he said I need to strengthen it and directed me to his web site for specifics. I asked about ice and/or heat: "Sure, if it helps." NSAIDS: "They might delay healing." Physical therapy: "Sure, but I don't know of anyone in your area." Where can I look? "Check the yellow pages." Massage: "Sure, that might help." So not exactly a clear-cut plan. What about running until the next visit? He just looked at me and shrugged, and the message was clear: "Sure, if you want to risk having your leg snap off mid-run."
I'm pretty disappointed about this visit; in fact, I ran into one of the TNT coaches at the local YMCA yesterday, and she was sooooo much more helpful. More encouraging, too. The upshot is this: I'll probably go for that MRI. In the meantime, I'm going to keep running, and I'm going to keep being careful, and I'm going to keep working with Andy, and I'm going to set up some massages (Dr's orders!) for this leg with my local deep-tissue girl (who brings tears to my eyes, but is so good at sorting me out and is also very familiar with my body). I'm also going to recommit to the full marathon on May 4th.
I'll let you all know if my leg falls off.
- Mood:
Wry
Then I made a trip to the bathroom; nothing like starting a really long workout with a less-than-empty bladder; I swear the longest miles are the ones you do when you've got "the feeling" and there isn't a Port-A-Potty or really thick tree trunk (or, in my case, a ladies' bathroom) in sight. Anyways, while I was in there I thought, "Elliptical or bike? 8.5 miles on an elliptical machine, or [gulp] 25.5 miles on a bike?" Neither sounded appealing. I left the bathroom and still couldn't decide. At the cardio center, I looked at the bike - blech. Looked at the elliptical - blech. So I decided, I'll just try running a little bit and see what happens.
Of course, as soon as I started running my shin spoke up: "Hey! Who woke me up? I'm trying to get some rest here! HEY" And of course Mr. Hamstring joined in: "Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too." That is, they both were uncomfortable and, I don't know, "twingey" but really not bad. Certainly not anything like they were the last time I tried to run -- when it hurt so badly I almost fell off the treadmill. I was going slightly faster than a snail, at 5 miles per hour. There was a lady speed-walking next to me at the exact same speed! So what? I was running. I gave it a mile and a half - if I didn't feel any worse, I'd just keep going; I could always finish up on an elliptical or - heaven forbid - the Dratted Bike.
After that 1.5, I actually felt -- good. Not stellar, but really, honest-to-goodness, good. So I stepped up the speed, just a titch, to 5.2 MPH and added a pinch of incline. Another 1.5, and I'm still feeling, well, good! So I stepped it up to 5.4 MPH. At 3.5, I had to sprint to the bathroom (I've got to give up coffee, somehow, some way), then got right back into it. And it was easy to pick up the rhythm again. When I came back and got started again, I had a little squirt of Gu (which comes in, thank goodness, espresso flavor -- my second favorite, next to chocolate) and just kept on running. Before I knew it, I was at 6.5 miles... which is where I stopped last Sunday (and didn't feel all that great afterward -- met my first ice bath, I did. Doesn't that sound like a barrel of monkeys?). At this point, I was actually feeling really good though still not totally pain-free. But I could, for the first time since my first run back, feel all the parts working smoothly together. My feet felt solid on the ground. My legs felt solid coming out of my shoes. i could feel it all, and I could concentrate on making this run as smooth and efficient as possible. I was running, dang it, and I was enjoying it. Hit zero walls, and instead of drinking a bucket-load of water at 'assigned' intervals and taking in some nutrition at same, I tried trickle-feeding and -drinking, which seemed to work better for me.
Finally, I was at 7.5 miles - just 4 'laps' to go. (The treadmills at the local Y are set up as if you're running on a track, assuming a lap for every .25 miles). I was in the home stretch! I started thinking HOW GREAT it was going to be to be able to email my fitness coach and tell him I ran the sucker as we were both counting on my doing some alternative. Then 3 laps to go, then 2, then one, and i was done! I did it! My heart rate at the end was 156; and 5 minutes later it was down to 110. (So I guess all that time spent on ellipticals and the like have paid off in that respect). I was really careful with my post-run stretching, and scarfed down my banana afterward. I made sure to eat within the hour to refuel the tanks, and darn it -- I feel great. My legs feel exactly as they felt this morning when I got up. I'm sure that will all change tomorrow, but for now I'm on top of the world.
Who knows? This might be my last run ever, or it may be the beginning of really getting back on the road. But I'm taking it one day at a time, and asking for nothing more than that.
And yes, I'm still going to see that doctor!
- Mood: Elated
Well, it's not getting any better. The left shin still hurts sometimes, but it's kind of manageable when I'm running - I seem to warm out of it. My question there is, what sort of permanent damage am I doing down there? Am I going to end up with a little bony knob on the inside of my shin, like some of the horses I knew growing up? And now there's this - I don't know - thing in my right leg that prevents any sort of running, or fast walking, or even thinking about running. Sometimes it feels like IT band, and sometimes it feels like hamstring; whatever it is, it frickin' hurts hurts hurts - and doesn't add much to my positive mental image! I can't keep popping ibuprofen for the next 2 or 3 months, and that doesn't even dampen the pain enough to be able to run, anyway. I have no clue as to where this injury came from, so that obviously doesn't help in terms of determining what's injured. Now it's time for a diagnosis and a treatment plan. For crying out loud, I'm a doctor -- what the heck has taken me so long?!?! (I'm as bad at doctoring myself, apparently, as I am at doctoring my kitties when they're sick).
So maybe it's all a sign that this is where I need to put on the brakes a bit. I am seriously reconsidering this marathon, although I will not let either Team In Training or my sponsors and supporters down. My options, as I see them: 1) recommit to the half marathon, and hope that I can get some relief with the help of a sports injury professional, or 2) carry everything over and try again to go for a full marathon. Either seems like a let-down, to myself and to everyone who is behind me, and that may be me extrapolating my customarily high expectations. I just had a thought - maybe I will email everyone who has contributed thus far -- it's only fair that they know what is happening with their hard-earned money, right?
As for my options: running the 1/2 marathon would mean that I would run on the same day as originally planned. I would also be running in a local event, and there's been some preliminary planning for people from work, etc. to come down and support me. I would so love being surrounded by friends and family! My mom has already arranged to come out for the weekend, too. The course is supposed to be pretty flat, and I wouldn't have to deal with adjustments from traveling, etc. However, this means that there would still be pressure to run on May 4th -- and these being completely uncharted waters for me, I have no idea how significant that would be in terms of continued pressure, etc. My longest run to date was 7 miles, and that leaves me right on track for the half marathon, but I said I was going to do the full, and not doing one tastes like disappointment, with maybe a hint or so of injured pride? Am I so vain?
Putting off my run would mean taking the time for a complete recovery; with a doctor's note, I would have up to a year to recommit to another race and could carry over my sponsorship monies raised so far for this event. And what sports doc isn't going to write a doctor's note indicating more rest for a sports injury, anyway??? In that time, I could also learn other important aspects of training - like how to eat, for example, and find a favorite recovery food, and finally figure out which sorts of shoes I like best, and what it's like to run when there isn't snow and ice on the ground; in other words, become more familiar with my sport. I could probably even begin to enjoy running again. I still remember that run into the Tourne, with squirrels scampering, birds twittering, deer bounding, and me and the damp leaves and a light mist - mmm mmm. Better than buttermilk biscuits (though not much). More importantly, I could also get some of this other crap behind me - getting the house ready to sell, selling the house, buying new house, moving into new house, settling into new house, ... Perhaps I could even extend this to next year's New Jersey Marathon, and maybe even have the best of both worlds -- rest and recovery time, and a local event. (We can't do New York City or Boston as a TNT event). Hmm.
So here's the plan (and I cannot begin to tell you how reassuring it is to have one):
1. Continue training with Andy, and continue cardio fitness on the Dreaded Elliptical and the Dratted Stationary Bike.
2. Call sports injury clinic later today and make an appointment (even if it is Sunday).
3. Contact sponsors to date and inform them re. what's going on here, and what I am thinking.
4. Decide!
OK, not much of a plan, but better than nothing. I have a list! I'm too Type A - do well with lists. Am comforted by lists. Love lists - look like action plans. At least it's better than a whirlpool of despair-style pity party.
- Mood:
It's 3:30 am!
I've also got all my usual house duties to keep up, and it seems as if I am constantly putting something together for Francis' school. What's making it even more difficult is that, on my time off, I usually have The Kid with me and he hates - hates - going to look at things like bathroom tile and cabinet hinges. Won't go. Period. And the longer it takes me to select all that stuff, the longer it takes to get everything finished, and the more it costs me. All these things that need taking-care-of also take time away from Francis, which makes him even more reluctant to waste his time with me at some place as mundane as Home Despot. So it's a self-perpetuating problem, see?
Then there are some, ah, personal problems that I won't even address here out of respect for everyone involved. Suffice it to say it's taken a tremendous emotional toll on me, when I thought things had already gotten as bad as they could get.
Add on top of all this, like a cherry on a sundae - I am running, but not without pain. And now I have additional pain, in my other leg (not shin splints, but higher up, above the knee). My recommitment date is coming up -- March 7th -- and I don't know if I am going to be able to finish a marathon on May 4th. I don't even know if I am going to be able to finish a half-marathon. In other words, maybe I will, and maybe I won't, but the uncertainty is killing me. Normally, I would probably take the pragmatic approach and buckle down, do what I can the best way I can, and get it done somehow. But with all else that's going on in my life I can't get beyond the disappointment and frustration and sadness that I might not be able to do this. Logically speaking I know this is harmful thinking and I know that feeling this way is only going to tip the scales to the side of failure; but I just can't pull myself out of this pit, at least not for very long. I even ran 6.5 miles today, albeit on a treadmill, but still - 2 weeks ago I was suffering through a bazillion-mile workout on an ancient bike and couldn't even think of touching the tread. I feel good about that, but it's still overshadowed by this unfamiliar worry. Many of you know me well - I don't waste my time with worry, and prefer instead to "do" - and part of my unease is that I am simply not accustomed to chronic worrying. In fact, I despise it. I didn't worry (OK, not as much as everyone thought) in vet school. I don't make a habit of worrying at work - I think instead. I do worry sometimes as a mother, but even that results in action, and not more worry.
Perhaps that is why I feel so stressed and so just-this-side-of-insanity -- there are too many factors over which I have no control. I am a control freak, I suppose - not that it makes me happy or proud to admit that. I'm certainly better than I was even, say, last year let alone when I was much younger. But I still feel so much better when things are taken care of, and when I have a definite plan that I'm pretty sure is going to work because of my efforts. Right now, that amounts to... precious little. And it's freaking me out.
If there is a bright side, at least I still have work. My mental - and medical - capacity is not affected at all by shin splints, gutted bathrooms, or scary doorless cabinets, or inches of drywall dust around the entire house, or piles of laundry waiting to be sorted. Thank goodness I can compartmentalize like only a true Aquarian could! I can go to work and still give my best to every single patient, and every single client - and the day when I can no longer do this is the day that I need to take a sabbatical until some of this is put to rest. In many ways, my work is my refuge, my sanctuary -- where I still have some say in how I contribute to this world, and hopefully have some small but positive impact on people's - and pets' - lives.
- Mood:
frustrated
I'm back.
By the way, someone has pointed out that my two previous posts were on some sort of delay, so you, dear Reader (I've always wanted to say that!), might want to go back 2 posts and read those.
So, I slept in my running shorts on Monday night. I set out the rest of my running gear, tested my Garmin pedometer (wish I'd had that on that fateful run that seems so very long ago), made sure my brand new Asics Gel Nimbus 9 (that just sounds so cool!) shoes were laced and ready, set out 2 Advil, actually put on my favorite running shorts, and went to bed. Dropped off immediately. Woke up at around 10:45pm (I tried to stay on east coast time while I was out there to avoid jet lag) and tossed down a few bread sticks, then went right back to sleep. Woke up for good at 4:30 am, and got ready to go. Then it hit me - it's still nighttime. Heh heh.
I read through the conference notes for the entire day (I know, I 'm a tremendous nerd) before I remembered that hotel rooms come with cable television. We don't have cable at home, so having so much TV on hand is really a bizarre experience for me. Anyway - I whiled the time away just until it was light enough to see clearly - and hit the road, exactly as Andy prescribed. I did 1/2 mile warm-up, which was tentative. Not a twitch or a twinge in the leg. I stretched and stretched and stretched, then stepped out for the rest of my 3-mile run.
It was amazing. For old time's sake, my lungs really gave me a hard time: "We don't want to go running right now!" "Well, you don't really have a choice." "We don't want to!" "You have to." "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "OK, fine. You just sit here on this nice street corner, and I'll be back later to pick you up. Don't touch the oleander." A mile later I coughed up the dregs of 14 liters of unfiltered airplane "air" and my lungs then decided to get back in the game. So Wendy 2, lungs zero.
But my legs! My legs felt great. Stupendous. Strong. Pain-free. Resilient. And YOUNG. It felt so wonderfully amazing to be running again, and to be running pain-free, that I forgot to turn around halfway through. I'M RUNNING! I FEEL GREAT! I kept checking with my body as I went, and after a time even the ol' windbags were singing instead of screaming. I went an extra mile before I realized that I had better start heading back. In the end, I walked almost a mile back to the hotel, but I was well and truly elated. I stretched after 5 minutes (and it took that long for my heart rate to get below 100 bpm again), and stretched some more when I arrived back in my room. I stopped by the conference breakfast buffet before going back, and what a layout! They must have known I really had something to celebrate that morning.
Of course, this all couldn't be just a plain old, glorious return to pain-free running. About an hour later, my shin started to hurt. Not like it did before, but enough for me to call Andy with an update. His advice: ice, twice, and be careful. I sat with ice on my leg for about an hour during the radiology portion of the conference, though I felt silly wearing jeans and my old Mizunos (my dear old running shoes which have been, sniff, elevated to the position of cross-training shoes) with my leg propped up on top of my briefcase on the chair next to me, and covered in paper cups filled with ice. The rest of the day was uneventful, though crossing LAX was a bit of a chore even though I was still wearing my old running shoes. (That in itself was bizarre - when's the last time I work workout shoes for anything but working out?) I found a sports bar in the airport and met a really nice lady who was happy to fill up a Ziploc bag for me with ice, which I kept on my leg for another hour before boarding the red-eye to Newark. The next morning, there was still some twingeing going on when I headed to work. And yes, I am a glutton for punishment, showing up at the hospital just 2 hours after getting off the plane. Thankfully my medicine brain was still in high gear, and I'd gotten plenty of sleeeeepppppp while I was in California - cases went smoothly all morning. Still - I was worried about overtaxing the leg again, so I wimped out and went for some more elliptical cross-training that evening. I really stepped up the workout and was huffing and puffing for 4-1/2 "miles," and felt great after the workout. I planned to run if I got anything that even remotely resembled a break on Thursday, but since that's my surgery day I'm usually lucky to toss some food down my gullet before appointments start in the afternoon.
Friday was a big day and I decided to run on a treadmill at the gym. I warmed up on a bike, and took some perverse pleasure in doing so. My body has a good memory, and all those saddle spots were still sore -- but oh, was it bliss to be able to warm up on a stationary bike that was actually made some time in this century. I did The Stick - and for those of you who are running, or recovering from injury, or simply want a really good massager, you've got to check out The Stick - then stretched, then hit the treadmill. I did just 2.5 miles, at a really easy pace (12 min. mile), and again - it was BLISS. Even inside. Even on a treadmill. Even with the silly Food Channel, 3 news stations, a soap opera, and ESPN Five or whatever pounding my eyeballs from the television bank right in front of me. After the run - more Stick, more stretching, and then home -- to find all the water turned off by the plumbers who were installing our new bathtub. No glorious shower for me, so I immediately smeared on loads of Tiger Balm (ancient Chinese secret, endorsed many moons ago by none other than Joe Montana for various muscular aches and pains) and wrapped that leg up snug as a bug in a rug in a 4" Ace bandage. I never thought that growing up on the back of a horse, and all that competitive 3-day eventing, and especially all those Pony Club bandaging lessons would come in handy in exactly this way, but there you have it. You never know what tools you've been given earlier in life until you get to a place where you need them; I do lovely bandages, and now I'm really reaping the benefits.
It was definitely a dress-down day, just so I could wear Mizuno 1 and 2 all day and give my legs a break. I kept that bandage on for, oh, 7 hours -- and when I finally took it off I panicked because of the pain - until I realized that it was probably Tiger Balm overdose that had made my skin and muscles a bit, ah, warm. The rest of the evening, the leg felt good. Not perfect, but honestly really good. Today, leg still felt good. I met Andy for my twice-weekly thrashing, and now, seven hours later, it still feels good. Really good. Still not perfect, but I really think we're getting there. Tomorrow? I'm doing 4.5 miles, on a treadmill (and someone please call me to remind me to bring my iPod so I have something to distract me from the TV), and I'm wrapping that leg up right after. Hopefully I'll even get a shower this time.
The next 4 weeks are critical to see if I'll be able to hold up to the rest of training, and during the marathon. Andy is encouraged that my leg doesn't hurt - at all - while I'm running. He said I probably can't expect to be pain-free, but as long as it's not hurting during a run I'm doing all right.
Here's to 'all right' and beyond.
- Mood:
determined
My legs have GOT to be recovered by Tuesday. I can't take much more of this cross-training stuff.
Here I am in Palm Springs, CA - ah, but it's good to be home! (Even if it is that "other" California). The web site for this hotel said it had a "state-of-the-art" gym. I arrive here to find that it's all relative, really. "State of the art" means that the aerobics equipment is electricity-driven, and that's all that can be said for it. There are 4 treadmills that look pretty decent - but I'm not supposed to be on those, right? There is a stair-stepper that actually creaks like a haunted house - huh?!?! Does it make your workout more efficient if you feel like you're about to be chased by a ghost? Not an elliptical cross-trainer anywhere (I mean, those only came out about 15 years ago or so. so what was I thinking that there might be one here?). And right smack in the middle of the room, the first two electric, stationary bikes ever made.
The reclining bike is no longer adjustable, so that a person who is 5' tall has to pedal with the same seat-to-pedal distance as someone who is 6-1/2' tall. The resistance, however, is self-adjusting! At completely random times in your workout, the resistance will jump from a level of '5' or so to about '20' -- all at once. How fun is that?! I can't tell you how many people I saw just about pop a vein trying to just pedal through it. Nothing like a little spontaneity in your workout.
So that leaves the upright. The seat on this bike is also stuck in one position, but fortunately it's an OK height for me. I think the revolutions calculator is off, because no matter how furiously I pedaled I was only able to reach a 6-minute mile at best (and I think in real-life biking even my son can pedal faster than that). The kicker about this bike is that the saddle hasn't been changed since, well, since rocks were young.
The thumb rule for bike-riding to keep up running fitness is to pedal 3 miles for every mile you're supposed to run. This weekend was supposed to be my 9-mile weekend, so that meant I was to bike 27 miles. OY. I generally do about a 10- to 10-1/2-minute mile, so that means I would have been done in just over 1-1/2 hours if I'd been running. On this bike, however - 2 and 3/4 hours if I buy the 6-minute-mile thing.
I couldn't do it. Never found a remotely comfortable position to pedal from, and that saddle - it might as well have been made of brick. I stopped after 12 of the longest miles in the history of measurement, because I just couldn't take it any more. I'm incredibly saddle-sore, and what's with that? I'm a runner, and runners don't get saddle-sore. Bikers get saddle-sore. Runners don't. We get things like black toenails, and ugly feet, and knee problems, and OK well shin splints -- which necessitates using evil and archaic stationary bikes in way-dated hotel fitness rooms, but anyway that's not the point!
The point is, I really need to run. Really.
- Mood:
irritated
Being injured has really taken a toll on me - I haven't even had the mental wherewithal to write here, and record it all for posterity. For those of you who know me, you also know that one of the hardest things for me to accept and hear is, "There's nothing you can do." Sure, I run into that from time to time with my job - but while it really stinks to be facing a disease I cannot cure, at least there are things I can do in terms of client care, easing pain, and end-of-life nursing. These shin splints, however - and I don't mean to make light of life-threatening diseases by comparing them to mere running injury - there really is nothing I can do (except rest, rest some more, pretend I'm getting some exercise on an elliptical trainer, then rest again).
Until now.
Enter Andy Cope, fitness trainer. He's also a sometime Team In Training coach. He's also, at least this year, a teammate. I met him at the first running clinic that was sponsored by TNT, and what he said about dynamic warm-ups, total body strength, etc. really impressed me. Of course, way back then all that was holding me back was a little cold, which lasted all of 2 days. So I could afford to think, "Yeah, that'd really be cool sometime [personal training with Andy]." I met Andy later on a couple of team runs, and the guy's like some of the dogs I've seen hiking with their owners in Colorado - for every mile the owner does, the dog does about 3 or four because he's running ahead to check the trail, running behind to give the raccoon poop a final sniff, then running ahead to tell the squirrels all about it, then running behind to get another drink of Giardia-infested pond water, and so on, and so on, . . . Watching him run is weird, but in a really cool way -- I've never seen someone whose discrete parts work together so well. He happens to be a nice guy, too. I emailed him when I was first injured, and we've set up twice-weekly training sessions. Our first meeting was a "Welcome to the plan, let me evaluate your stride, and oh by the way you need new running shoes because you're a supinator in stability shoes." Oops. For the layperson: this means that I tend to bend my ankles out, thus cheating myself out of the inward-directed portion of my stride, and the shoes I've been wearing are for people who turn their ankles in too much. In other words, I've been preventing my feet from going in the exact direction they need to go with every single step. This is maybe only 40% or even 30% of the problem, but it certainly contributed. The more I think about it, the more I am certain that I injured myself not over time, but during my next-to-last long run; afterward, my calves were so tight and no amount of stretching could get the left leg released. (That was also, by the way, the run where I earned my very first black toenail; well, it's not really black -- just a little darker than all its neighbors. One thing running won't give you is lovely feet). Our second meeting had me screaming for a wheelchair the next morning, but it was that good kind of ache that means you've really put your body to the test and now it's going to get stronger. It was just that even my eyelids hurt.
Anyway, Andy and I are meeting twice weekly to get me back on the road. He's come up with a personal running plan with weekly goals, etc. and it makes me feel like I can still do this thing, as long as the dang leg cooperates and healing keeps going. In fact, I am scheduled for another session tonight, and I'm really excited. He's obviously good at what he does, he loves what he does, and I feel like he's really got my best interests at heart. As for him, I think he's just happy that he can use words like "ipsilateral" and "tibialis cranialis" with me! So I don't mind paying him to kick my butt around our basement twice a week, and I'm confident that he's gonig to get me up and running (pun intended) again. My running schedule says I have to stay off it until Tuesday, February 5th - not that I'm counting or anything. I will be in Palm Springs at a kitty medicine conference, so the weather should be stupendous. It's also going to be the maiden voyage for my new running shoes, which sound like something straight from Harry Potter: the Asics Gel Nimbus 9. Throw the ball, Dad, throw the ball already!
Oh, and in case anyone's interested: http://www.andycope.com The picture doesn't look like him at all - he looks a little more like Sean Penn might've looked if he hadn't been ravaged by drugs, angst, insomnia and Madonna. There's even a teeny, tiny bit of Jeff Spicoli in his speech.
Leave it to the Type A overachiever to find a way around the "you just have to rest until it's better" dogma.
- Mood:
refreshed
On Thursday, I actually canceled my afternoon appointments and it was all I could do to get the loose ends from the morning's surgeries all tied up. Once the last surgery was over (a simple neuter, thank goodness) all the wind went out of my sails, and I felt like I had hit a brick wall. After dragging my butt around the hospital for a few hours, I didn't get home until 6.30 pm, and after that I pretty much crawled into bed and woke up just before The Little Boy was to be at school Friday morning. I dropped him off, came home and hit the sack again. Hubby came home early to give me some respite, and I passed out until 8pm. It wasn't really until this morning (Sunday) that I really started feeling humanoid again, although I managed to eke out 45 minutes at the gym on an elliptical cross-trainer on Saturday. My shins are still achy, though I had a good day (Thursday? Friday? Can't even remember) before the weekend.
So now, I'm thinking:
1). I'm too old for this, and my body can't handle such intense training in such a short amount of time.
2). I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, so how am I going to prevent further injury?
3). I'm going to get out of shape faster than you can say "boo," and not be ready for this marathon in May.
4). Maybe I should recommit to run the half-marathon - which feels like a cop-out.
5). There are sooo many things that could have contributed to this injury ("Injury" should be a four-letter word, really):
Not eating properly - I was eating a diet based largely on protein and veggie-based carbs before all this
Pushing myself too hard - thinking I'm still 30, perhaps?
Flying blind: not knowing about marathon preparation at all.
Neglecting strength training completely - sacrificing it for miles.
Not getting enough rest - I've still got work, house to get ready for selling, and The Little Boy. I am getting more rest than I used to -- maybe it's not enough?
Not listening to my body - come to think of it, my calves were pretty darn sore about a week ago. I kept stretching, but maybe I should have been more aggressive about post-workout care. I wish I could remember when that was, and what precipitated it...
Not keeping my daily running log - I really really regret this, because now I can't remember all the great progress I'd made up to this point, and I'm beginning to think I wasn't doing as well as I thought.
Not getting enough oxygen to my body because of my asthma struggles.
Not getting enough water into my body because, well, I'm horrible at hydration (unless coffee counts, which it doesn't).
Drinking too much coffee, for that matter.
Not eating properly, and therefore not getting enough fuel to burn. How do I step up carbs without stepping up body fat? I have no idea.
Not being able to run (very well) in the cold.
Being undisciplined about post-workout stretching - I do it, but sometimes I've been less diligent than others. I'm pretty darn flexible now, but maybe it's not enough? How am I supposed to know?
6). I'm mortified at being the first injured person on our team. It just feels like I've been irresponsible somehow, even though I've really tried to be so careful.
7). This poor attitude really stinks - but there are so many things to consider and I don't know what I've been doing well, and what I've been doing poorly.
What am I going to do about it all? I have no idea - before I think about that, I really have to get to a place of 'no-panic' first. Hopefully my coaches will be able to help; I can't possibly be the first person in this situation.
Prayers would be nice right about now - heck, I'd even run up The Stinking Boulevard to the church to get them if I could.
- Mood:
gloomy
One of my coaches really wished, for the new year, to get through spring season injury-free and with 100% commitment. He said in the next breath that he realizes this was an unrealistic goal, and I agree, but still -- I feel like I've let him and my team down. Funny how committed I feel to these folks, and not just the honorees or the LLS.
I've been a little tired; the last 2 runs wore me out. I did 7 miles (I DID 7 MILES! I DID 7 MILES!) on Sunday, and that evening my shins hurrrrttttt. Monday I did nothing (except work, and this time I was smart and left the Via Spigas at home), and then Tuesday I did cross-training on an elliptical machine. Wednesday my leg was feeling good enough to try an easy run, so I did 2 miles. I was thinking I might do 2.5, but thought I shouldn't push it. I also felt perhaps more tired after those 2 short miles than I thought I should have. At the very beginning there was a slight bit of -- soreness, not even pain -- at first, but it went away very quickly. Afterward, there it was again. Not as intense, but still there.
I've also got a raging cold now, with the works. My list of symptoms looks exactly like a Nyquil advert (if Nyquil would add sinus pressure that makes your eyeballs feel like a Boston terrier's to their label, that is). So, I'm down for the count for now. I am hoping that a weekend of mainly R & R (with some ellliptical work and cycling thrown in to maintain fitness, if I can do it without passing out from the sinus pressure) will get me back on track. Hopefully I can turn down the freak-out button and not panic about not being able to run.
One thing's for sure -- when I get back to it, I'm going to add in some strength training which I have grossly neglected until now. Hills are presenting a major challenge to me, and this - OK, I'll say it - INJURY has got to be the result of muscle imbalance. Things are pulling the wrong way, and this is I would imagine a biomechanical injury more than a compressive injury. Fortunately, one of our coaches also offers personal training and so I am going to enlist his services and get back on the right track. Since 7 miles is the farthest I have ever run (and that only once), I am now officially in uncharted territory, and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.
Off to bed. (And did I really say "2 short miles" up there? Wow.)
- Mood:
sick
So it seems that my shoes have been the problem: today I wore my new pair, which I bought just a couple of weeks ago so I could alternate between 2 pairs. I think my other shoes are done - I bought those 6 months before starting training, and used them solely for the walking / micro-jogs and occasional gym visits that I was doing before starting with TNT. The mileage is not that high, but my body is telling me these shoes - Mizuno Alchemys, which I loved loved loved - are ready to be "promoted" to cross-training days. It's silly how attached we can get to things like shoes - I'm really attached to these, and it's been difficult to admit that their running days are over! I can get another pair, and I probably will, but I started this whole journey in these shoes - I'll probably have them gilded or something when all is said and done. Anyway, today I wore some new shoes, and felt so much better. No aches and pains. They're not even glowing white any more, thanks to those aforementioned mud puddles.
I also found an old pair of fluorescent laces - one green, one pink - that I bought ages ago at Sky High Hope Camp, where I have been a camp counselor for children with cancer and their siblings. It brought back such a rush of good-will and courage, so I've put them on my new running shoes to remind me of all the incredible little beings I've met at SHHC. It's funny how many comments I get on those laces, though - "Hey! Did you know you have two different-colored laces?" ("Really? Oh my GOODNESS - who did that?"). They're bright, and they're obnoxious, and they're soooo easy to see when I'm flagging and need a little push.
So, to sum it up - gorgeous run. This must be why some people love this sport so much.
- Mood:
peaceful
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