Life has been a roller coaster ride for me this year, unfortunately with more downs than ups. And it’s been an emotional, physical, and mental ride for me.
If you’ve been following along, this year started with a fantastic marathon finish in the (slightly long) Charleston Marathon in Charleston, South Carolina. I thought I was gearing up for a great year of running…but then…while not even doing any running, but in my cross training, something went wrong.
My hip labrum tore. A small tear…but it took a little bit of time to get around to the actual diagnosis. There were other problems with my body…like a tight lower back that was practically immobile…but the hip was the kicker. I had an MRI the week I was heading to the Boston Marathon…with no running since February when this all happened. No joke. And just days before, the diagnosis of the tear. And then the Cortisone shot…and a trip to Boston to make some sort of attempt on the marathon I worked my ass off to qualify for. Had it been any other marathon, I would have skipped it. But it was Boston…I earned this. Needless to say…the weather was cold, rainy, windy and just MEH. The hip felt good at the start, but at Mile 6, it all started to fall apart. That left 20 miles of misery that I hobbled through, mostly walking, always crying, and just falling apart. Boston broke my already fractured mindset, confidence, and my heart.
I returned home and immediately began an new physical therapy session. Unfortunately, all the PT appointments I had prior to the hip labrum tear used up most of what my insurance would allow. I had seven appointments with the new facility…and they went by way too fast. But, at least we could target the problem properly this time. And, slowly, I felt like things were getting better. I could move a bit more. Things didn’t suck as bad. And soon, I was back to (slowly) running. First on the treadmill for 5 minutes…then outside for 5 minutes…then 10…then 15…then 20…then 3 miles…then 5 miles. Soon I was doing 5 miles 3 times a week. My coach and I decided 3 days a week would be torture for me as a runner used to running 5-6 times a week, but would be best for my body. I was also slowing down my training runs. Not going over 9:00/mile. It happened a few times, but not intentionally. My running was uncomfortable…but I could manage and not be laid up afterwards.
I ran my first 5K race back from the hip injury in August…the Kicking Butt 5K to raise money for colon cancer research. It was not anywhere near my fastest 5K, but it was on hills, it was hard, and I felt good the entire way. I came in 4th in my age division…a bit of a disappointment, but good for such a long time away from the sport. I ran a 16 miler the following weekend in preparation for an upcoming marathon in Hawaii a week afterwards.
But then…I fractured my leg. Stress fracture. Just above the ankle. The doctor said it was probably brought on by overcompensating on my left leg for my right hip. UGH! I was put in a boot, told I couldn’t run for 6-8 weeks while in it…and to have fun in Hawaii.
I behaved. I never ran once while stuck in the boot. I did go to Hawaii…and missed the marathon. I struggled through 8 weeks of being stuck on weight machines and in the pool at the gym. I discovered the sit-down elliptical, so that I could feel like I was getting my sweat on while working those running muscles in the process. And then…the boot came off. October 21, 2015…I had full use of both of my legs again.
Two (painful) miles one Tuesday
I waited until November 1 to go on my first run. I was out of town, but my friend lives in a very flat neighborhood. I took it slow and steady, for just 2 miles. And when I stopped and went inside, the hip flaired up. It was NOT happy. And for the rest of that day, I hobbled and limped and worried now over my hip…and the leg because I could tell I was overcompensating in just my walking stride. I stretched. I rolled. And the next day I went to my spin class…and things started to feel better. Then, Tuesday, I figured I would do the second (of three) runs of the week…at night. Two miles. In my neighborhood. Small hills were involved. Nothing big. I got home, already feeling a bit of a twinge in my hip. And when I stopped, the same thing that happened in Columbus, Ohio, happened here. And my hip has been hurting the rest of the week since.
It is so frustrating. Aggravating. Heartbreaking. My confidence in myself, my abilities, my body, and my potential is shot. Honestly, I just feel like I get one problem fixed and another one arises or comes back. And it has left me in tears more times than I care to admit this past week. I have been continuing some non-impact activities…including my spin classes…but I’ve stopped running. I called my doctor’s office on Wednesday, even when my roommate did her usual thing that makes me feel stupid for wanting to see someone about a problem when it comes to my body and running, and managed to snag an appointment for the following Wednesday. One week.
And now, the ankle is fine…but sometimes I get a bit of twinge and I panic. I’m gun-shy now when it comes to any ache and pain. The hip has been bad since Tuesday night. And I am just trying to tell myself that one day I’ll wake up and not be in pain. Because I have hurt in some way, shape or form since early February. I have missed out on so many races I signed up for, and have been angry at myself over the money that I have lost. Money I didn’t really have to waste.
Comebacks are hard. Comebacks mean struggles. I’ve been struggling for almost a year now. And I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of working my way back only to be thrown back down and having to start over.
But the thing is…I don’t give up. And I hope that on Wednesday we take some better steps toward getting me back to where I used to be. My run on Tuesday is definitely showing a problem…my cadence is way down from where it usually is when I run. I’m just tired of hurting, failing, and having to make these comebacks.
Notice the difference in the Cadence on my Garmin’s from my 16 miler and to my 2 miler I did on Tuesday…
Think of me as Wednesday comes around…and hope that I finally get some sort of a solution. I miss running. And right now, all I want to do is get out there and run freely. Run like the wind. Feel like I’m flying. But right now I can’t.
This is my life…for almost 8 weeks…Bootsie and my random shoe of choice.
…but today is not that day.
Sadly, I have 8 more days left in Bootsie. It should have come off tomorrow, but my orthopedic doctor was on emergency medical eave until next week, when he’s on a condensed schedule. So…the big day is October 21…and I might have been counting down since that appointment was made. I’d much rather have it off tomorrow…but this just gives it a little more healing time, so as much as I want to kick and scream and be rid of this cumbersome beast that’s been Velcro-ed to my leg since September 1…I’ll behave…for now.
And, of course, getting rid of Bootsie does not mean that I can immediately jump back into training. This fracture was actually pretty big. 2.6 centimeters. YIKES!! So, it will mean easing back into things. As much as I just want to hit the road again, I know I can’t. Well, I can, but gradually. Slow and steady…
Don’t get me wrong, while a downer and a burden, I haven’t let Bootsie slow me down too much. I still go to the gym. I weight train (even though I hate it) and I’ve found a sit-down elliptical that allows me to get my much-needed sweat-fest on and work my running muscles without my body weight being applied. I love and hate that freakin’ machine. But…I feel so good when I get off it. Like…I’ve accomplished something. And…I even hit the pool. A LOT.
So…aside from my already blogged about trip to Hawaii just three days after being booted up with Bootsie…a few other things have gone on…some good…some depressing…but all of it helping to shape me to be a better, well-rounded individual, athlete, and the like.
Upon my return from Hawaii, I unpacked and dragged out another suitcase in order to prepare for the big event I was looking forward to the most in September…my best friend from high school’s big day – her wedding!! I was her maid of honor, and while I was not there to do a lot of the maid of honor duties…I was assured that I did more than enough from halfway across the country. I was leaving for my old stomping grounds and hometown of Horseheads, New York on September 23…
2015 Air Force Marathon…the birthday party that wasn’t…
…but before that…I had my own event to endure. And by endure, I mean it…because I had, for over a year, planned out exactly what would happen on my birthday when I turned 35…and moved up in an age division. The plan was to run the Air Force Marathon…because it’s my favorite distance, the race is not too far away, and what better way to celebrate moving up in an age division than to run a marathon, right? When the hip labrum tore, I thought to drop down to the half marathon. And when the fracture happened…it all went to hell anyway. Needless to say, I was beyond upset that my plans were all going awry on my big day. I didn’t even want to celebrate, and I LOVE my birthday. I mean…it falls on International Talk Like A Pirate Day (September 19th…so you don’t have to Google that!). What’s not to love? But I just felt unexcited about it after all my planning fell through and I was out the race fee anyway. Happy Birthday, right?
My allergen-free cookie cake from Annie May’s Sweet Café. Yes…that’s the She-Ra crown. Frickin’ awesome!
But then my roommate (Cathy) and my downstairs friend/neighbor (Michelle) conspired to give me a surprise party. The guests were Cathy’s family and my neighbors downstairs…and it was perfect. I was so surprised. There was a princess theme (I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again…I am a princess!)…and Michelle even created a Skeletor (from He-Man) to go along with my She-Ra obsession…and the design I unknowingly had on my gluten-free cookie cake (compliments of Annie May’s Sweet Cafe). The cake…was amazing. The wine was good. The decorations were all over the living room and it was awesome! And the company was just what my broken heart and body needed. The laughter was unstoppable. I even got a big shopping trip to Jungle Jim’s International Market where I stocked up on all the crazy gluten-free things I haven’t seen anywhere else. Still trying to find the Rudi’s Gluten Free Texas Toast. It still eludes me. I thought if anywhere would have it, it would be Jungle Jim’s.
So…I turned 35.
And then I went back to my roots…back home…to see my friend Jen Wright get married. My flight left here around 3 pm and took me to Chicago O’Hare. Once there, I went over to Garrett Popcorn and picked up some yummy treats for the way. I ate one of the bags for dinner…haha. Well, it was a good thing I had some comfort food on hand because we were put on a ground halt due to there being too many planes in Detroit, which was my next stop and had a very tight connection. I was starting to panic a little and was contemplating getting off and finding another route…when the ground halt was lifted and we were able to take off. This still took awhile and in the short flight from Chicago to Detroit, I was on the Delta app tracking my connecting flight. As we were beginning our descent into Detroit, it was boarding. I didn’t think I was going to make it.
It was a near thing. I was trying to move as fast as possible through a crowded airport for 20 gates. Technically 10…as they are on both sides. Thank God I was in the same terminal. This would have been easier if there hadn’t been a big shopping center in the middle of the gates of this terminal. AH! I manage to weave through there and as I’m nearing the gates, from down the way at my very empty gate I hear a small voice shouting my name. I wave my hands. “THAT’S ME!” She told me to hurry because she couldn’t hold the plane any longer. AH! So I hobbled over and then they couldn’t get my ticket to scan. She told me to just get on the flight. I asked what seat I had (it hadn’t been assigned yet) and she told me to find an empty one. Okay…so I hobble down the jetway to the plane, the door being closed behind me. I get on the plane and my carry on luggage is stored with the flight attendants…and I am put in an exit row on the aisle. Blessed leg room. I agree to help out in case of an emergency and we were off. Whew. Close one for sure! But I was on a plane and bound for the Elmira-Corning Regional Airport…at last.
Jen and me at the wedding reception. We’ve been friends since middle school and I was so honored to be her Maid of Honor!
Jen was there when we landed and we hugged the instant we saw each other. The next few days were going to be a mad whirlwind of things that needed to be done for the wedding…and then the wedding itself. It all got done, albeit it, not always as efficiently as we hoped. She had a newborn baby boy as well, so that does take some planning around, especially when it comes to feedings and naps and the like. But…we managed. We got our nails done, helped set up the garage for the rehearsal dinner and even decorated. We got the last few things on the shopping list crossed off. We had ice cream and Frosty’s…because we were reliving our childhood together, HAHA! And we got our hair done and then…the big day arrived. And I was there with her through it all…getting her in the dress…the ceremony…the reception. I wanted the day to be perfect for her…and it sounds like it was. I might have made a lot of people cry with my speech. Everyone complimented me on it…so there is that. And…Bootsie didn’t make me miss a step as I danced the night away on the dance floor. Major thanks to Nils for being the best dance partner ever! It was a beautiful wedding and a great day. So many new memories. Cathy had driven up with my dress and wedding essentials, so I drove back home instead of flying. Long trip…and we got home straight-up at midnight. Go figure. Back to work the next morning.
Kentucky History Half Marathon…which my dear friend, Kelsie, ran for me!
With October now here, I had a few events I had been looking forward to also get knocked off the calendar due to stupid Bootsie. The first was the Kentucky History Half Marathon. It was the inaugural run of Frankfort, Kentucky’s very first half marathon. I really wanted to be a part of it because I really love my Frankfort runners. But…it wasn’t happening. The race director, however, was kind enough to let me transfer my bib to someone who could run it…free of charge. I immediately thought of my friend Kelsie, who loves the half marathon distance. She is an amazing runner and an even more amazing friend, one who I met through this very blog. The day I told her about my ankle…was pretty much the day I asked if she wanted to run the half marathon…(back in September, people…I’m not that cruel!)…and she called and said that was not a conversation to be had over text. How many friends do that anymore? She’s one in a million…and she took my bib and ran for me. She even had the announcer say that as she crossed the finish line. You can read about that in her blog here.
Matthew Fondy, baby!! My fav!
That very night, I went over to Slugger Field for the last home match of the night for the inaugural year of Louisville having it’s very own professional soccer team. In the USL Eastern Conference, Louisville City FC hosted the Charleston Battery in the USL Playoff Semifinals. It went into double overtime…but my favorite player, Matthew Fondy, scored twice, giving us the 2-0 lead…and the win that night. Hell of a match. We went up to Rochester, New York to play the Rochester Rhinos for the USL Eastern Conference finals…and lost 0-1, ending our season. Which sucks…but I couldn’t be prouder of the team. And the fan support has been amazing for this soccer team. Makes me proud to fly the purple and gold of Louisville City FC.
I pause briefly here to say…sometimes ugly medals make missing a race worthwhile. Another one gone by and me still locked into a boot. UGH. Yeah…this year has been rough.
BUT…instead of racing, I got to spend Saturday afternoon with my parents who were visiting Lexington, Kentucky, for a work function of my dad’s. So…that was fun. I walked around this big trade show. Got to catch up with my parental units. And it was a good day. We did a little bit of shopping after the show closed and went and got dinner at my favorite Italian trattoria, which has a huge gluten-free menu. I always get the Pasta Arrabiata though. LOL! It’s spicy good! I hated to say goodbye to my parents, but they had the drive back to Birmingham to make and I needed to get back up to Louisville.
Mom, Me, and Dad in Lexington, KY!
And this week…just as crazy. Saturday I have a couple of events I’m hitting up…one of which involves hitting up the Fleur de Flea in Louisville with my neighbor, Michelle (YAY!). I love flea markets…and on top of that…my favorite gluten-free crepe food truck, Sweet ‘N Savory, will be dishing up some deliciousness. That, my friends, makes me happy. They are nearing the end of their season which will leave me crepeless until April. The other big thing is the amazing Jack-O-Lantern Spectacular at Iroquois Park in Louisville that night with Amanda!! So excited. We did this event last year and had a blast. How people do all of that with a pumpkin is beyond me!! It’s awesome. So, if you live in the Louisville area, make a point to go while it’s there. TOTALLY worth it.
And Sunday…I have my first official appointment with my swimming coach I hired. Why hire a swimming coach? Well, it occurred to me that, despite having spent the better part of this year in the pool due to various injuries…my swimming is not improving. It all comes down to technique and I have 5 sessions with him, which he says he can easily fix the issue. He’s a 2 time Olympian in swimming too. Which…is really kind of cool. I’m a bit nervous though, as our first session is going to be a double…2 hours in the pool. Whew. I’ll be one tuckered out little mermaid for sure. But, I really do think this will help in the long run, as I intend to keep swimming as part of my cross training. Might as well get all the kinks worked out so I can perform more efficiently.
NuttZo Organic 7 Nut + Seed Butter (Available in Smooth & Crunchy in all 3 flavors: Original, Power Fuel, and Chocolate)
On top of that, yesterday I found out that I was selected to be a NuttZo Ambassador! Oh yeah!! If there is one thing I love more than cookies and sweets…it’s peanut butter. And NuttZo is more than peanut butter. It is, quite honestly, the next big thing in nut butter. NuttZo is a gourmet 7 nut + seed butter, which the creators have deemed “the healthiest, most unique superbutter on the planet.” And it’s true. NuttZo is quite unique in their own way, offering up three flavors, in both crunchy and smooth, all of which contain 7 nuts + seeds in each blend. It was love at first taste for me, and my jar didn’t last long. My nut-butter loving self has never tasted anything else quite like this. To say I’m in love is an understatement. But, I am quite proud to be an athlete ambassador of this amazing product. If you haven’t tried it yet…DO SO! I first discovered it shining down from the very top shelf of the Louisville Whole Foods…the upside down jar with the right-side-up label. You can’t miss it. You can also order online…and I highly encourage this!
And in two weeks, my mom and dad are coming up to visit and we’re going to venture up to Indianapolis together for the Gluten Free Food Allergy Expo. As my mom and I are both Celiacs…this is an exciting venture. I’m pretty excited about it because my parents haven’t actually come to visit me since Thanksgiving 2010. So, it’s long overdue. I’m taking them to a city they’ve never been to. And my mom and I can share all the knowledge we gain from this event. I went last year and LOVED it. Spent way too much money, but used every single item I bought. I will also be out of the boot by then, so that’s a huge plus!
And…from there I just work hard at full recovery and getting back into running…this time minus the injuries. I know my hip will never heal, but I was just getting used to it when the fracture happened. So…back to square one. Literally. I’ve done SO little running this year it is beyond depressing. That being said, I’m going to focus a lot more on the half marathon distance and…as far as marathons go…I’ll focus more on quality rather than quantity.
As you can see, since being booted I’ve done anything but just sit around and feel sorry for myself. That’s not to say I don’t have my fair share of meltdowns. Usually on what was to be a race day. The biggest one being the night before my birthday. Thankfully, I have a lot of great people in my life who help me get through even some of the rougher days.
So…eight more days to freedom…and we roll from there.
Me at the start of the Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk – Louisville, KY
Race: Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk
Place: Louisville, Kentucky
Date: August 22, 2015
Time: 25:01
It is that time again and that time of year. Yep. My comeback.
*SIGH*
Okay…you know, I have to actually look at the positive on this one. The hip labrum tear could have been so much worse and if that had been the case, this race would have not happened this year. So…there it is. Not to say I wasn’t in full-on panic mode…but this race means a lot to me as it does benefit research for colon cancer prevention, a disease that took my Aunt Debbie. And so, yeah, this one is an important one.
The first thing you will note is that this year, this race has a new name. The Colon Cancer Prevention Project (or as Cathy likes to call it C²P²) renamed the race this year from the very long and awkward “Walk Away From Colon Cancer & 5K Run” to the “Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk.” I love the change, personally. And, despite what people have said, this race is not geared more toward walkers. There are a ton of runners that show up for this one, many of whom are some of Louisville’s best.
So…this is how it stands. I have been running at a very leisurely pace (comparatively to where I used to be) for just over a month now. I only run 3 days a week, 2 days during the week and one long slow distance run on the weekends. I’ve been working with a certified Coach, Linda Word, who developed a training plan that incorporates enough cross-training and cardio that is not running to keep me sane, at least. So…there is that. Am I happy about a 3 day running week…to be honest, I thought I would hate it. I really did. But so far, it’s been easy on my body and has allowed progress to really start to come through. I sometimes run faster…sometimes slower…than my prescribed 9:00/mile training pace. But it’s never by too much…and it varies on each day I run depending on how my hip is feeling.
So, after doing a 5K race in Birmingham a few weeks ago with my sister…where I stuck with her and got her to the finish line at her pace…this was the first official race back for me. As in…my coach gave me permission to push my pace if I was feeling good. And, I was both nervous and excited at the prospect. I think I was nervous up until the car pulled into the parking lot at Iroquois Park in Louisville. With all the health tents and the other booths set up for this race, I started to feel right at home. My favorite local food truck, Sweet ‘N’ Savory, was on hand as well with their gluten-free crepes and smoothies. They were the first thing I spotted as we drove in and it totally lifted my spirits. Funny how the promise of gluten-free food at the end of a race just makes you feel a little more confident about everything, right?
The morning was a little chilly, but I knew that it was going to warm up fast. I shed the tanktop I was wearing at the car, opting for being the sports bra runner that I am on warmer days. I think I was one of the few brave enough to do that. I don’t care that I don’t have nice abs (I’d love to have them!), this was more about being comfortable. And I am not comfortable in lots of extra fabric when it gets warm outside. Therefore, despite the low humidity and low 60s temperature…sports bra was it. And, I really didn’t get too chilly just mulling about before the pre-race programming. I went and said “HI” to Richard and Ashley at Sweet ‘N’ Savory and told them we’d see them after I ran. This meant my plans to go to my local gluten-free bakery were now…changed. I still went, to retrieve the allergen free toaster treats I had them hold for me…but not for breakfast as planned. Today, not only was I running to help raise money for colon cancer research and prevention…I was running for that delicious sounding peach crepe.
HA!
With that being said, I went over to the stage area where the employees and volunteers of the Colon Cancer Prevention Project were doing their opening ceremonies, talking about what research is being done in the fight against this curable disease, and then bringing out Louisville’s own “Semi-Colon” (aka: Caleb Payne, who had just returned from a 5-month journey along the Appalachian Trail) to speak a little about his accomplishment and how being a colon cancer survivor has changed him. Then, they did the survivor recognition, complete with cheerleaders this year. This is always such an uplifting and emotional ceremony.
And once the recognition was given for survivors and the top fund raisers and fund raising teams…it was time to officially kick some butt on the hills of Iroquois Park. Cathy walked me over to the starting area, where a crowd was already forming. For some reason, all nerves I thought I’d have were gone. I just took a couple of deep breaths…and received a good luck hug. She went up a little ways past the start with my sign…and I got into the crowd of runners near the front. I was up front the last time I ran this race, but I was nowhere near in shape or in any condition to run like that this time around. I was greeted by the amazingly fast, Lynn Riedling, and our little conversation and good lucks were all we had time for. She was off at the horn with all the other amazing runners, walkers, and survivors. I gave a wave to Cathy as I went past, being left in the dust by a lot of people.
But, hey, this was more about the race than the pace. And my hip was feeling amazing.
I will now mention that while my hip was feeling amazing, I woke up on Saturday with a rather tender ankle. No clue what happened with it as I didn’t turn it or anything. But…it was tender…and still is to this day. A little puffy. But, it didn’t really bother me while I was running, so that is a good thing.
Anyway…back to the race. One of the first things that happens in this race, or any race that starts at the amphitheater of Iroquois Park, is that you go up a hill. I wanted to push it, but also conserve some energy for…you know…pushing it more, especially at the end. Comeback races are hard. You walk a very fine line and it’s scary to push beyond it. But, as I rounded the corner and went up…up…and up in that first mile, my legs felt strong, and I even managed to pass a few people. That was exciting!
At least at Iroquois Park, where there are uphills there are downhills. If you are training for a hilly race, this is the park to run in, for sure. This was the simple loop, not the hard dash up to the top like I did back in January. And it was agreeing with me today. It was like something switched off in my body, and if anything was supposed to or going to hurt…it wasn’t. Not from the start. Not any of that. Warming up with walking and stretching probably helped, but here I was, feeling semi-fast…and really good as I moved past the first mile.
Mile 2 is the killer on this loop at the park. The downhills, I tended to ease up on my pace and let my legs and momentum carry me, because I’m just trying to run smart and happy these days. BUT…that being said, those uphills were my time to push and challenge myself. I also discovered that my hip does better on uphills than on downhills, currently. So…hey…good to know. Mile 2 is packed with uphills. Some small, some big, and one that just feels like it goes on forever. In my mind, I kept telling myself to focus on my form, push off my toes, and just to stay comfortable. And with all of that going on, my second mile ticked off, slower than my first, but hills do that to me, even when I try to push them a little.
Into the last stretch I went…and still feeling good, I picked up my pace again. Just a little. I also know that there is one last hill that gets me every time, near the end of the race. The first time I ran this race, I walked the hill. I haven’t walked it since, and I didn’t have to walk it this year. It does feel like it never ends though, and pushing it on that one is a mental challenge and a physical challenge. But I stayed the course. And once I conquered it…I knew it was time to finish this race strong.
And so, I just ran. I focused on my core, my form, and how my body was responding to each push-off from the pavement. Nothing twinged. Not once. I could now hear the roar of the crowd at the finish line. It is an amazing sound to hear at a little 5K, but this race brings it every time. As I came into the final stretch, I could hear Cathy screaming at me. “GO TWIN! GO!!!” She normally does this, but there was an urgency in the tone. Turns out, another female runner was hot on my heels, trying to pass me up. I didn’t know. I didn’t look. I just ran as hard as I dared and crossed that finish line.
My Garmin said 25:03. Not my best 5K by far…not even my best time at this race (I ran 2013 in 22:45)…but not my worst 5K time either. And definitely an accomplishment for someone who went for 7 months of no running (I don’t count the Boston Marathon as I ended up hobbling and walking most of it!) to easing back into a running routine that was made, specifically, to get me back out there without causing further damage.
Cathy came over and asked me how I was. I told her that I was fine…but the race was hard. She said I was about the 11th female to finish, so it was possible that I might have placed in my age division. Possible…maybe so. So, we walked around to keep my body loose and limber and then went and grabbed some gluten-free crepes from Sweet ‘N’ Savory. I got the Peaches crepe…which was SO amazing. It came with gelato, and they were kind enough to give me their dairy-free one. It was strawberry. I split it with Cathy. Cathy, for the record, got the breakfast crepe. I thought about doing that one…but eggs were not sounding tasty at the moment. Sweet peaches, however, did. YUMMY!! With crepes made, we went and settled in to eat, then move around a little more while waiting on the awards. This was where a gentleman spotted me and said, “I know you! I read your blog on this race!” HA! That totally made my morning. We stood around for a bit and talked about running and upcoming races…but it was nearing time for the awards, so we parted ways with well-wishes and all.
Long story short…I came in 4th in my age division. So, things are pretty much back to normal. HA! Missed it by a mile (or just under 2 minutes) though. Lynn, however, was listed as being 35 years old…which is not true…but it wouldn’t have affected my placement regardless. And in the end…I walked away with the satisfaction of well-run comeback (again) race.
Me after finishing (strong!) the Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk – Louisville, KY
So, the results of the Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk are that I finished in 25:01. No new PR…no course record…but a strong finish. I was 48/970 finishers overall, 11/577 female finishers, and I was 4/63 in my age division. I’m happy with these results, honestly. Considering how much I hate 5Ks (I am NOT a sprinter), it was a challenge just getting to this start line. I put in a lot of time, stretching, and tears to get to a point where I could race again, and this race certainly showed me what I was capable of…and where I can definitely improve.
And, as always, the Kicking Butt 5K Run/Walk is dedicated to the memory of my Aunt Debbie. Already looking forward to coming back and running it again next year.
So, on a hot and humid Saturday morning…I went out and ran for a good cause…and had a good time. Already looking forward to next year! It’s for a great cause…and I couldn’t imagine missing it. Not ever.
Returning from an injury is a delicate balance of emotions. Trust me…this isn’t my first time having to do so. That being said, the torn hip labrum that I have been dealing with since January…has been the hardest to recover from, both physically and mentally. The foot issues, I’ve worked through, but this injury has affected me on a deeper level.
Perhaps part of it is that after getting a Cortisone shot before the Boston Marathon and attempting to run 26.2 miles on a very newly diagnosed injury, and then having one of the worst and most painful runs of my life…running doesn’t come as easily for me. In fact, I’d wager to say that I’m suffering from a little Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to what I dealt with on the Boston Marathon course…not just the weather and the wind and the cold…but the paint too.
And now, even the thought of lacing up can leave me feeling paralyzed with terror. Every anxiety I have ever felt toward this sport that I love flashes into my mind. Sometimes I can’t breathe. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I just let all the whispered doubts run across my mind and leave me feeling uncertain.
And all of this leaves me feeling exactly how I, personally, feel: scared, washed-up, incapable, weak, and miserable.
Running used to be my escape. It would quiet my anxieties, help me focus, make me happy, keep me healthy, and help me maintain some semblance of sanity. The torn hip labrum I was finally diagnosed with just days before Boston, has all but broken me since then. This injury has left me fighting my inner emotions, trying to resist the need to scream and cry and just collapse. It’s a daily struggle. Ever day…every twinge of pain…it sets me back. And it SUCKS!
I don’t like being afraid of one of the things I love the most in life. It’s like every emotion in me is on a tripwire…and I never know from one moment to another which one is going to bubble over. I hate living life like this…but as of now, I have to take everything day-to-day…and go by how I feel.
Not an easy thing, when you feel so messed up…so lost…so uncomfortable with…everything. And those emotions…those voices inside my head…well…they aren’t much better…nor do they make it any easier…
JOY!
You know, first and foremost…I do keep in mind that it could be worse. I could have needed surgery on this injury (and, I admit it, at times I wonder if I’d recover better if I had actually had to have surgery). I could have been out from running longer than the 7 months (save Boston) that I did no such running in that time period. I reflect…I bask in the fact that…while I might be running at a pace I don’t like running…at least I AM running, which is way better than where I was prior to getting the okay. So there’s that, right? I’m not where I want to be, and nowhere near where I was…but I’m at least able to push through the discomfort and put in some miles. That’s better than nothing…right?
SADNESS!
My mom used to always tell me, “Baby, you don’t run, you fly.” And, sadly, now I’m lucky if I crawl. In fact…I went for a 14 mile run on Saturday at a very comfortable pace…quite deliberate…and still came out of it hurting for most of the rest of the day. It is so disheartening…knowing where I was and seeing where I currently am. And…wow…is it every frustrating. I can’t even put into actual words the depth of sadness I feel when it takes me 10 minutes longer to run 5 miles than it used to. Hell, sometimes it takes me 20 minutes longer. Every time I finish a run and end up having even the slightest twinges of pain in my hip or leg is just another emotional setback. It makes me rethink everything. It makes me dread the next time…or the next mile. I hate using the word slow…but when I used to kick out a 7:00/mile like it was nothing…and now can hardly hit 8:30/mile when pushing it, it just…well…it SUCKS! And I love my friends…I love their accomplishments and their continued improvement…but it’s hard to not compare myself to where they are. They’ve improved…I’ve fallen behind. Again. Sadness…depression…self-loathing…self-doubt. Oh yeah…it’s there. It’s real. It’s a struggle. I am always happy to see other excel and achieve great things…but a part of me breaks inside at their progress and my downward spiral.
DISGUST!
There is nothing, my dearest friends, nothing harder than watching all your hard work get scrapped and having to start over at square one. My Facebook feed, Twitter, and Instagram are filled with marathon training plans, new PRs, pushing past the limit and doing amazing things, and here I sit…literally…doing my best not to come apart at the seams by pushing too hard too fast. Running at a 9:00/mile does not come easy for me. Even worse, looking at my training run times now, knowing where I was last year, the year before…and comparing them…in my head…makes all of this even harder. Will I ever run faster than 8:30/mile? Will I win age division awards ever again? Will I ever BQ at a marathon again? Will I ever be described as fast? There are moments when I’m running where I hate my pace, I hate my body, I hate everything about the run. I don’t like the fact that can’t run faster, and that despite feeling effortless, I pay for every run for at least a few hours afterwards, especially if I don’t keep moving. I don’t know how I’ll come out of my next marathon, my next half marathon, or my next race for that matter. I don’t like having panic attacks before heading out for more than 5 miles. I don’t like being afraid of running…but I am. And I hate myself for it.
ANGER!
Of all the emotions…I think anger is the one that shows up the most, in various ways, mind you. First of all, I’m angry that this even happened. After running the Charleston Marathon back in January, I took ample time off for recovery. Woke up one morning and BAM…back hurt. Took more time off…and then…hip hurt. So, this injury happened when I wasn’t running. In fact, I wasn’t doing much of anything!! It’s aggravating and frustrating! I hate how long it took to diagnose the problem as it was. The poking and prodding and guessing and physical therapy that did nothing to improve my situation prior to the Boston Marathon was beyond frustrating. The medical bills are unending it seems, and each more expensive than the last. I’m angry at myself…or my performance at Boston. I hate my finishing time. I hate that I had hypothermia. I hate that I cried and walked most of the course because I hurt do damn much. I hate that I had to make that run all by myself…even though I knew plenty of people who were running it. Because I’ve given up races to see friends through theirs…and yet, no one would do the same for me. I hate all the races I missed because of this injury and all the race fees I’ll never get back. Waking up every morning and having that initial pain and stiffness in my leg is so disheartening. Being able to walk but not run SUCKS. Running and then hardly being able to walk afterwards SUCKS EVEN MORE! The fact that this injury will NOT EVER heal itself makes me wonder if being in pain is just my new normal. There is so much I am angry about when it comes to this injury. And I keep it pent up for the most part. I lose it every now and again, have one of my meltdowns, but I try…for the most part…to reserve that for my mid-week run, early in the morning, when I can cry and no one can see me do it. And, yes, I’m angry that I am brought to tears by all of this. Yes, I am thankful for the progress that I have made, but it just isn’t always fast enough for me. And then, I get mad at myself because now I’m not fast enough for me. It’s a never-ending, horrible cycle…and one that I can’t seem to get myself out of, no matter what I try to do to make myself think more positively. Yes, I’m angry…but I feel I have a right to be.
FEAR!
What’s even worse than being angry at the situation and myself…is being afraid. And, there are moments that I currently suffer from paralyzing and unrelenting anxiety and fear just before a run. Usually a longer run, but always before a run. Even short ones. Every scenario plays in my brain. All the questions that run through my mind…and the uncertainties. It is hard to even haul myself out of bed sometimes to even attempt to be active. Part of it may be depression, but most of it…is that I’m afraid. Push yourself…just not too hard. Keep going…unless it hurts. How bad does it hurt? Is that a twinge or something worse? What if I get hurt again? What if I make it worse? What if my next race is just as bad as the Boston Marathon was for me. I can’t handle another Boston Marathon. Why can’t I just get better? Why can’t I just have one day where I don’t hurt at some point? Should I push through or should I stop? Should I just give up? Hang up the running shoes and miss it for the rest of my life? Why am I so afraid of putting one foot in front of the other? Why does not moving hurt? Why does moving hurt? Will this ever stop? Why can’t I run faster? When will I run faster? Will I ever run faster? Why am I afraid of running faster?
THIS….this is what goes on in my head! Is it any wonder that when my alarm clock goes off, my initial response is to hit snooze and curl back up. I used to hop out of bed, gear up, and get out there at 3 a.m. to fit in my run. And now…I’m lucky if I manage to fit a walk in, let alone a run. Getting up on days I’m supposed to run is even more trying than on gym or rest days. And to make things worse, all these questions and doubts and worries continue to cycle through my mind even when I am out and running. And when, at the end of the run, I’m a little sore…or, like on Saturday, a lot sore, I freak out. I panic. I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to tack on more miles when sometimes 5 has me sore and uncomfortable for the rest of the day. I don’t want to be out for life. I want to be someone who has a lifetime of running. But where is the balance?! Where is that fine line? I am so tired of being afraid of every little thing involved with running. I just don’t know how to make it better…
So, you see…injuries aren’t just a physical thing…they take their toll mentally too. I feel so messed up at times. I don’t like the way I look, the way I move, the way I think…but I can do very little to change it. I hide it from my peers. I put on that smile and that brave face. I laugh. I pretend that it’s all just any other day for me. But the truth is…
Boston scarred me. It scarred me emotionally, physically, and mentally. And somehow, somewhere along the line, I need to find my mojo again. I need to be able to not be afraid to run a little harder…go a little faster…
I need to stop comparing myself to people who have not been in my shoes or understand what I’m going through. I do it. Every fucking day, I do it…but it serves no purpose other than to frustrate me even more and bring on those dreaded tears. Will I ever be the runner I was? Right now, it seems unlikely. Right now…it seems like I’m just treading water. I feel stuck. I feel paralyzed. And, for the most part, I just feel washed up.
And I just want to feel like me again.
I just don’t know how or if that will ever happen again.
Me crossing the finish line of the Capital City Stampede 10K and 2 Mile Walk (I did the walk) – Frankfort, Kentucky
Race: Capital City Stampede 10K Run & 2 Mile Walk
Place: Frankfort, Kentucky
Date: June 13, 2015
Time: 29:47
Racing was not on my mind on the morning of the Capital City Stampede 10K Run & 2 Mile Walk. I was, sadly, not participating in the Frankfort Trifecta Run/Walk Series this year, due to this nagging hip labrum tear that just won’t stop bringing me down. I missed the Run For The Gold 3K in March due to my hip. Then, I missed the Pro.Active For Life 5K in April because…of the hip and because BOSTON MARATHON!
But…here I was, up bright and early, before the sun came up, drinking coffee and getting ready to head out to Frankfort, regardless of not being able to run. Why?
Because one thing this series has taught me is just how wonderful the running community of Frankfort is. Seriously, I feel like I actually live there, so many people recognize me or know me. It’s like a home away from home. Even the guy at Cool Comfort, the running store there in town, knew who I was when I stopped by with Linda (my running coach) after the race and some time chatting at the coffeehouse. I said it once, I’ll say it again…the running community in Frankfort is one of the nicest, most genuine, wonderful groups I have been around. And I have run in a lot of different places in many different races. None have been so open and welcoming as Frankfort. From the first race I ran there, I’ve never been made to feel like I didn’t belong or that I wasn’t a part of the festivities, just because I drive down from Louisville to participate in the race there. They have been with me and asked after me through my injury and rehab…and I love to call them my running home away from home.
So, there I was, arriving just moments before the start of the Capital City Stampede on Saturday morning to cheer on the great people of Frankfort as they made the trek through the streets of the city and to leave it all out on the course and a very humid, very sweaty morning. I was there in enough time to get hugs and talk with a few people, and I went to pick up my packet and the packets for the previous two races I was sidelined during. The call to lineup to begin the race happened, and I set down my race packet and just turned to look at the starting area, now filling up with runners of all different shapes, sizes, and speeds.
I had forgotten how much I loved that feeling…up until that point.
Cathy told me a little bit later that I was standing there with the saddest look on my face. It must have been true because all of a sudden, with like, one minute to go…she says, “Do you want to pin on your bib and do the two mile walk?” I nodded almost immediately. “Yeah…yeah I do.” So, she pinned me up faster than ever and I began to walk toward the starting line. I moved past all the speedy folks, catching Linda and telling her I was going to walk it. She lit up with a smile. So, I stood with the walkers at the back for a total of maybe 5 seconds when the starting horn went off. And there I was…watching runners run up the hill to circle the Capitol building…and I strode, quickly, mind you, right behind them. As I crossed the starting line, I threw my hands up in the air and smiled at Cathy, who took a picture. And so…there I was…walking a race.
There is such a different perspective from the back of the pack. Honestly. I got to see runners taking up the back for the 10K…but not caring that they were in the back. They had one thing on their mind…making it to that finish line. I circled around as the hill leveled off and then, rounded to come down the other side. This was a nice downhill and naturally my pace picked up. I decided, at this point, why not try a little easy jogging. And so…I did.
I won’t lie…it wasn’t pain free, but it wasn’t anywhere near the levels I had at Boston. I was mobile and could stay mobile. At the end of the drive, Melissa, the race director was yelling for the 10K to keep going straight and the 2 milers to turn and go down to the cone just beyond the parking garage. I was too busy looking over and telling her that she didn’t see me doing this that I forgot to turn, so I doubled back because, yeah, not 10K ready, not even at a walk at the moment. I was behind a couple of ladies, but not by too much. I figured I’d just follow them. This is the part of the 10K race that is very desolate. No one really around to cheer. You go down this hill and out to the parking garage for the Capitol. I actually passed the second person ahead of me in the walk (I was back to walking, mind you), and headed under the parking garage. I expected to see a cone there, but it was not in sight. So…the woman in front of me kept going, and so did I. She finally reached the 4 mile marker and turned around. She commented that she was already at 1.6 miles. The rest of us just sort of did the same thing. People coming the other way after I made the turn asked about where I turned around and I told them at the 4 Mile mark, so they kept on trekking that way too. It wasn’t too long after I made the turn that I saw the pace car coming down the hill. The lead male in the 10K was already coming this way. Holy crap! I cheered from my side of the road as he passed by. And then I kept that going for everyone who followed, including Nate, who was in 4th place, I think…who called me out by name when he saw me. The first female was next, although without a rider to pace her through. I knew Linda wouldn’t be too far behind her. I kept on working my way back, picking up the pace at times, toward the parking garage. I hadn’t reached it yet when I saw Linda coming.
She eased up her pace, opened her arms when she saw me walking the other way, and gave me a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she said to me. I almost cried. Seriously. She’s in the middle of a race and she took a moment to do that. For me. I thanked her and said that she was doing great and to keep going! She did.
I went through the shady garage and began my climb up the hill. As I did, cheering on runners the entire time, I saw Melissa jogging toward me. As she neared I said, “There was no cone!” She said she heard and she was going to figure that out now. Ah…the joys of being a race director.
I came up and around the corner to the road that would take me back to the turn back onto the street with the finish line. I could see the police cars ahead. I picked up the pace a little again. And as I rounded the corner, I figured, “Hell with it!” And for the last stretch up to that finish line, I jogged. Easy. Light. Not hurting, just uncomfortable. And as I crossed that finish line, I threw my hands up in the air to celebrate. I admit, even doing the walk, it felt really damn good to cross that finish line.
I grabbed some water and cheered for the walkers coming in behind me. And then, the runners as they began to come in. I had moved up to the line and was clapping and cheering when Greg, one of the Frankfort running peeps, came up and said, “Last year, I followed you for most of the race.” HAHAHA!! He’s right, but he passed me up at the end, but not without encouraging me to keep going to and push hard for that finish. I remembered him. Because he encouraged me, a complete stranger that year, to push on and try to be the woman ahead of me. See what I mean about the people in Frankfort? So, we chatted and cheered and I kept an eye out for Linda. With the humidity, full sun, and the heat, runners were slowing their paces…which is very smart.
When we saw Linda come around that corner, Greg, Cathy, Nate and I were just screaming for her. She came barreling across the finish line, looking fantastic. We stayed around to chat and cheer some more…and I wasn’t going to miss seeing these amazing people collect the awards for their hard-run races.
I have to admit, though, it was really, really weird when the top three finisher awards for the 10K were given out not to hear my name. It was doubly weird to not hear my name when they announced the First Female Open Winner, as I’ve taken that award the past two years. But I clapped and cheered for the people who did take those awards. They earned them. They trained and totally deserved them. And, yes, I was proud of them…even if I didn’t know them. Linda, once again, took first in the Masters division. And Greg and Nate both placed as well in their age groups. It was phenomenal. And, we had one really loud cheering section in our little corner of the Capitol stairs. When the team awards were handed out, Cool Comfort won first and Linda told me to come and be in the picture.
And the thing was…I didn’t feel like I wasn’t a part of the team. It was very nice of them to include me.
Afterwards, Linda, Cathy, Emily, and I went over to the Kentucky Coffeetree Cafe, where we got something to drink, and in some cases something to nosh on after the race. I sipped on an unsweetened tea and handed Linda over a jar of the blueberry jam I had made the night before. We chatted for a little while, about so many different things…and afterwards, as we left to go over to Cool Comfort, I rode with Linda and we discussed her becoming my coach.
The biggest thing for me is going to be slowing down my training runs. Or, as it was put, “You need to slow the f*** down.” I can’t argue. I knew that was going to be the case and I promised I would work on my pacing in my runs once I am back to being out on the road. I was given some samples of Sword to try…and soon…I was heading back to Louisville, because we had a rental car to pick up as Cathy had to drive to Atlanta on Sunday to try out for Jeopardy.
So…here it is…with the missing cone for the turnaround, I walked 2.54 miles in 29:47. I was 2/43 walkers overall. I was 2/35 women to cross the finish line in the walk portion. And, finally, I was 1/5 women in my division doing the walk. Not that the walk gets awards, I just looked up the stats because that’s what I do.
You know, this felt good. It didn’t feel great. It wasn’t amazing. But it was good. Since this race, I’ve returned to physical therapy, where I was told I should NOT be doing any sort of running at this point. Not even short jogs. So…I’m back to not running at all for at least 2 weeks. But Frankfort, as always, welcomed me with open arms, and really did a lot for my confidence that morning. It had been awhile since I smiled that much. It was just what I needed. A good walk, in a good place, with good people.
Yeah…that’s what it’s all about.
This comeback kid is on the brink of another comeback. So, stay tuned…
This past weekend, I had a rough, rough time. For much of it, I was at work. On Friday, our server rewrote itself due to a bad script in the coding or something very IT-ish…above my comprehension. But in the process of doing this, all the work that everyone entered from Tuesday onward…was wiped out. Gone. Kaput. This meant, on an already hectic and busy weekend, some things had to be dropped and pushed aside so I could come into work and get some of this data re-entered so that Monday morning closeouts could happen in a timely manner…and there would be accounts to close out on.
On top of all that, the pollen count in the Ohio River Valley has been off the charts and therefore, my allergies have been giving me fits. So, with being on an anti-inflammatory, I ended up not taking that from Thursday onward…and doing allergy medicine instead (I couldn’t take both as they wouldn’t react well together!). And this turned out to be a huge eye-opener.
I won’t lie. Since Saturday morning, I haven’t done one single PT stretch at home. Here’s why I’m having a difficult time finding the motivation to do so…
1. Apparently the PT stretches I was given to do at home aren’t helping me at all. What’s helping me out is the heavy-duty anti-inflammatory, which I thought wasn’t doing anything. With only a couple days off the Mobic though, it was hard for me to stand up and walk…which means the PT stretches are doing shit…the drugs are what is helping…and this is pissing me off!!
2. Taking a walk hurts…and my doctor mentioned having me back to running by July with any luck. I don’t think the running leprechauns are smiling on me…because everything just sort of…hurts.
3. This injury sucks. And now I’m beginning to question if I’m ever going to feel that pavement under my feet again. This entire weekend was an emotional and physical drain on me. Positive thinking…not happening.
4. All of this really, really, really sucks. I am cranky and upset all the time. Stress levels are through the roof.
5. I do NOT want to be on medicine for the rest of my life to control this. I was hoping I was getting better. Pain levels were down. Movement was better. And then…BAM…all being masked by the anti-inflammatory. Do you realize how much of a mental setback this has become?
6. I still feel very alone in and through all of this. I miss my friends.
7. It sounds dumb, but a part of me wishes this has been some sort of fracture instead of a torn labrum. At least that would heal on its own. I’m just at a loss. I have 9 days until I see my doctor again. I think I’m quitting the stretches and meds for now. Just to see what happens. This could be fun, right?
8. I love spinning. I do. But…I miss running. It is NOT the same. As for the elliptical and other machines that I’m permitted to use…they bore me to tears and just remind me how out of shape I’m becoming.
So, you could say that I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster this past weekend. Not only with having to work overtime, but discovering that what I thought was doing me some good has actually been doing…NOTHING. Not a thing. It’s disheartening and I’m a mental and physical mess right now.
Bear with me.
Until then, I’m trying to find little reasons to smile through the pain, disappointment, and fear. So…when all else fails, and since I’m dealing with a TORN hip labrum, I turn to this classic:
So…remember…always find a reason to smile. Even if you don’t want to. Just…keep on keeping on…
No athlete likes being injured. Nope. There is nothing worse than not being able to do something that you enjoy. For most athletes, though, this simply means they show up to practice but don’t get to participate with the rest of the team. The difference for the distance runner is that running is a very individual sport. You can run with people, sure, but unless you run as a relay team, this is a very solitary, personal, and, yes…competitive pursuit.
And while you may train with people…hold each other accountable…when those long run miles are logged…it’s just you vs. them. And sometimes…when you get hurt and are out for awhile…you get lonely.
And that, my dear friends, is the story of my life right now.
I think I’m an oddball in the running community in that when someone I know or train with is unable to join in the group runs or is injured, I send them messages and texts, check in on them, and all that. And part of that is that I view running as a social activity. Of course, I do have my own competitive streak. I compare myself to my friends and other runners, but ultimately, my competitive streak is mostly against myself. For me, running isn’t about winning a race or placing in an age division. Running, for me, is about the people I get to meet along the way. And, because it is the nature of the sport, sometimes these people get hurt or sick. I try my very best to check in on them.
From past occurrences, I know how it feels to be down for the count. I know how it feels to have to bow out of every Saturday long run because your body is not where it needs to be to participate. Perhaps it’s a minor twinge, or something bigger like a muscle tear, stress fracture, or whatever. Maybe it’s a lingering cold or respiratory thing. Whatever the case, after weeks of being away, you suddenly feel…lost.
I feel lost. I feel alone.
There have been a handful (yes, I can honestly count them on one hand) of people in my running community who have continued to check in on me, see how I was progressing, to see how I was feeling. To find out what happens next, how long I’ll be out, or whatever. A handful. Sometimes it’s once a week…sometimes it is almost every other day. I can’t tell you how much those little check-ins mean to me.
Because, let me be frank…
I AM NOT OKAY!
There, I said it. This torn labrum in my hip has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to overcome. My Boston Marathon time and performance have me doubting my abilities and whether I can even get back to where I was. The fact that I don’t get much sleep because my leg hurts when I roll over doesn’t help my mood either. And that’s what this is…a mood. A funk. A downtime. The blues. But every week I have to go with cross training (spin class, elliptical, swimming, yoga, etc) instead of hitting the roads on my own during the week and with my group on the weekends is another week I feel like my running “career” is ending. I have good days…where pain is down or nonexistent, for sure, but most of the time, I put on the smile, say those positive things you’re trained to say aloud, and don’t let people know that inside I’m breaking apart.
Inside…I’m broken. I spend at least 5 nights out of the week in tears because I hate doing my PT stretches. They are boring and tedious. I yell at my roommate for stupid reasons. I have panic attacks over the medical bills I now have streaming in. You ask anyone at my office about me though, and they would say that I’m just happy-go-lucky Karen. No worries. Hakuna Matata and all that rainbow unicorn stuff. I’ve cried at my desk at work out of frustration, out of loneliness, out of just a feeling of doubt and fear…but no one here would know that.
Most of the people I know in the running community don’t know that either. Well, they might now. But I just feel like one of my core group of friends…people I have come to let into my tight circle…are lost to me. And it sucks. I told my mom the other day that I missed my running peeps…that I feel lonely. And she said she could understand that.
Everyone can understand it, but not everyone knows how it feels unless they have been there. I don’t like feeling like a failure, like a broken toy that has been cast aside. I don’t feeling like I’m all alone in all of this. Yeah, I know, I have my roommate and some close friends who aren’t runners who have checked in on me…but what about the people who should understand what I’m feeling the most?! It sucks to feel so isolated when I’ve always tried to make it so no one would feel this way.
I just want someone to say, “How is the hip today?” “How are you doing, honestly?” “Do you want to dinner sometime?” “Come out for coffee…we’d love to see you!”
Every race I miss or have to sit out…every upcoming event I stress out over whether I can do or not…it weighs so heavy on me right now. I love seeing my friends do well in the sport…and I cheer the loudest for all of them. But there is that little voice in the back of my head saying, “That could have been you hitting that new PR…that could have been you tackling that speed work…that could have been you placing in that race…” Instead, I’m sidelined and doing what I can to keep my activity level up so my return in the (distant) future isn’t so rough. And, to be frank, it just SUCKS!
Nothing turns off these thoughts these days. I try to look past it…I try to stay positive…
But I can’t. I am broken…and I don’t know how long it is going to take to get me back out there. Every time I think about what happened before Boston, how much I fought to get to the finish line of that race…alone…crying for most of the course…I should be proud. But I just notice that of the people in my group…I had the worst time. I knew it was going to be rough, but that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done to myself. Honestly. It was a very lonely course from the start to the finish. At times, I wanted to just give up…but I don’t give up…even when I really, really want to. I’m stubborn like that.
But I miss my group. I miss my friends. I miss getting high fives and hugs and being told that I looked strong out there. I miss being able to open up to people who aren’t my roommate and who aren’t my family.
I promise. A torn hip labrum is a bitch to “fix”…but it isn’t contagious. I just don’t want to feel so alone in all this anymore.
Running is competative and individual, I know…but for me…I’ve forged so many friendships that this cone of silence is killing me. I just…miss feeling like one of the group.
I am not okay. And I am not going to be okay for a long while.
I think I just want someone who has been there…done that…to tell me…that’s normal. And maybe to invite me out for gluten-free pizza.
I miss running, sure. But I miss those friendships more.
“This is the story of how I died. Don’t worry, this is actually a very fun story…”
So…here is the preface to this. If you saw and read my previous post, you’ll know that I’m injured. Not because of over-training or pushing too hard or running too fast. This is all about body mechanics. A torn labrum in the hip is, actually, a very common injury in women in their thirties. And, for me, because I am active, this happened sooner rather than later. It just seemed to happen at the worst possible time. I have a tight lower back…which started the problem. I have short and tight hamstrings, which added to the problem. This was a cocktail for injury that had been building, then something finally gave. My anterior labrum tore. Small tear. But, mother of Meb…it hurts to move. Like, literally move.
But I’ve never been good at timing things.
*SIGH*
Anyway…the basic gist of the weeks leading up to Boston is…I did no running from early February. In fact…every bit of activity ceased due to lower back pain. Lower back pain soon became hip pain. And I immediately went to see the top sports orthopedic doctor in the area. He got me into physical therapy…where I was given stretches and even tried dry needling. Relief came and went and I found myself back in the doctor’s office with a week to go to Boston. He sent me in for an MRI. NOT an experience I ever want to have again. That was the Tuesday leading into Marathon Monday. Wednesday morning and the rushed results were brought up and delivered to me in my doctor’s office…torn labrum. SUCK. I had him scrambling to find something for my tears. He gave me a paper towel. We discussed some options for healing and he said…I could TRY to walk/run Boston. He sent me for a Cortisone shot and wished me luck. That night I had the most epic meltdown ever. I have never cried so hard and so long in my life. There was no calming me down. I dreamed of the day I’d run in the Boston Marathon, and while I could still participate, it wasn’t going to be the experience I envisioned. And I was struggling with accepting that. I was broken. Mentally and physically…shattered.
“I learned, for example, that running injuries can be caused by being female, being male, being old, being young, pronating too much, pronating too little, training too much, and training too little.” ~Amby Burfoot in The Top 10 Laws of Injury Prevention
Me with my race bib at the Boston Marathon Race Expo
Thursday, the Cortisone shot from the day before was causing more pain than anything, but that soon subsided. Thank God, because I was certain something was wrong. I got through work, went to a soccer match, then came home and packed things up for Boston. Late bedtime…then into work…then off to the airport. Boston bound.
We got in late in the evening and stayed the night at a hotel near the airport. My friend Heather joined Cathy and I in the hours before midnight, having caught a late flight out. We got a few hours of sleep and in the morning, got up to head to our actual hotel in downtown Boston, get some coffee, and get to the race expo.
Sorry…I don’t function without my coffee. And the Starbucks on Tremont was giving out free tall coffees to any Boston Marathon runners. So for Saturday and Sunday, I got a free Blonde Roast coffee. Thanks, Starbucks!
We hopped the T to head to the John B. Hynes Convention Center, where the race expo and packet pickup were being held. This was the most organized expo I have ever been to. Seriously. Our bags were checked when we stepped into the center itself, and then we followed the directions of the volunteers and the signs toward where I would pick up my race packet. I had my Runner’s Passport (which came in the mail) with me and I went up to my designated number area to receive my race bib. Now, I wasn’t actually allowed to post the bib itself on social media because last year people swiped bibs that were posted and ran with them. Seriously. So, we took pictures, but nothing went up. After that, I went to get my race packet (which had LOTS of goodies and my shirt inside) and then we headed down to the expo.
Matthew and me at the Boston Marathon Race Expo with our Runner’s Passports
The official merch was the first area you are shuttled through. All the Adidas goodness (I love Adidas!) you could ever want. I already had purchased (so I would be guaranteed to have my size) my jacket, but I picked up a little (okay…a lot) more, and also a few things for some friends. So…I have a lot of Boston merchandise. But this might be my only Boston. This was one expensive trip and marathon to do…and that was another thing tugging on my heartstrings…all this money and I couldn’t even perform the race the way I wanted. Life…is not fair at times. But, I was here to make the most of it. With those purchases made, my friends and I ventured further into the expo. I round one corner and immediately see familiar faces – Dawn & Matthew from my running group. Matthew was running too and we were in the same corral and wave too. But he was there to run it and I was there to…survive it. Definitely not the plan we had going into this. We took pictures and talked and eventually parted ways to check out the different booths, merchandise, and expo stuff. We finished up at the expo and took the stroll down to the actual Finish Line on Boylston Street. That…gave me chills and sent my heart fluttering. I touched the line. I sat on it. I goofed around a bit, hoping that the way I was currently feeling would hold through Monday afternoon. After we wrapped that up, dropped by Trader Joe’s for some water and snacks, then strolled back to the hotel to drop things off. Our room was ready now, so we got our key and ventured up and…took a load off. My friend Jenn had landed in Boston at this point and was grabbing a bite to eat before joining us at the hotel. This meant…time to relax for a little bit.
Jumping for joy at the Boston Marathon Finish Line
When she arrived, I left to go and bring her up to the room. We let her get settled and rest for a few moments before getting our stuff together and embarking on a Boston adventure. This meant, we took a stroll. Through Boston Common, down some streets, over to the water, up through neighborhoods…until we got to a T stop and hopped it to go out to visit MIT. From MIT…on to Harvard. And that night, I was meeting up with a my best friend from my childhood…the girl I met the day I moved to Big Flats, NY…Lydia…who worked and lived in Boston now. We were hitting up John Harvard’s Pub & Grill for dinner and a lot of catching up. I hadn’t seen her since high school. It was a lot of fun catching up over dinner (I had a beet salad, for the record!), before we decided to stroll through Cambridge for awhile. We ended the evening talking over coffee at a local coffee house until last call. Then, we parted ways and headed back to the hotel to cycle four girls through the shower. I think I finally got to bed around 12:30 a.m. And I had an early morning alarm set.
Why? Because I needed to get back to the expo. I discovered that Sunday morning is the best time to go. It is deserted. We all had a variety of missions to accomplish at the expo, so we split up. And…I ran into Geri and Dan from my running group. I hadn’t seen them in a very long time and we talked and I was told not to hurt myself…more. HA. We snapped a picture and went on our different ways for the day. After we polished off the expo for a second time, we hopped the T back to the hotel to leave things in the room. And then…we were hitting up Boston by doing the Freedom Trail. I know…you’re supposed to rest your legs the day before the race, but…I was here to see Boston. And this was a great way to do it! We stopped into church yards, churches, saw the site of the Boston Massacre, and so much more. We grabbed lunch at Faneuil Hall Marketplace, each scattering to get whatever sounded good to us. I got a salad (again), Heather got a prime rib sandwich, Cathy got a bread bowl of clam chowder, and Jenn got lobster bisque. We ate, then did some more shopping and site seeing, before winding our way out to Beacon Hill. Here, it was still too early for dinner (in my book), so we strolled around and ended up stopping into three different local chocolate shops and making purchases from each. Chocolate score! It was very spontaneous of us and very fun. We then made our way back to our dinner destination. A very tiny place called Upper Crust Pizza (which came highly recommended by two locals I know), due to the fact that they have gluten-free pizzas.
Heather, me, and Lydia – Big Flats, New York reunited!
Cathy and I were prepared for what to order when we got here. We got down a menu for Jenn & Heather in case they wanted to split a pizza…but they ended up each doing 2 slices each. Cathy and I, however, ordered one of their signature pies…The Charles Street, which is described as “a local favorite combining portabella mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, and fresh garlic.” We asked them to go light on the cheese. It was awesome. And Cathy said the gluten-free crust (which I could tell was white rice flour based) was better than the regular crust. It was just what this marathoner needed the night before the run. After that, back to the hotel for showers, some pre-race night prep and then…lots of chocolate.
We settled in a bit earlier this time, but I was pretty restless the entire night. Very little sleep. I don’t think I was alone. While the rest of my room dozed…I tossed and turned and went over things in my head. Sleep would have been nice. When my alarm went off, I was the first up and into the bathroom…time to get dressed for race day.
Me, highly under-dressed for the weaher for the 2015 Boston Marathon
So, let me now preface this by saying, when I packed for Boston…the weather reports were saying it was going to be about 50 degrees at the start line. After I arrived in Boston, the forecast began to change…and change some more. We were now looking at 42 degrees at the start with 16-20 mph winds and…yep…100% chance of rain. Needless to say, I actually forgot the shirt I was going to wear to this marathon at home. Literally…it was still hanging in my closet. I also had nothing to wear to the start line to toss. I realized that when I was packing…so I ended up bringing one of my warm blankets from home and wrapping that around me for the 2-3 hour wait at the Athlete Village. What I ended up wearing was was my Marathon Maniacs singlet and some arm warmers. That was going to have to do. I mean, I could have bought something to wear from a running store, but I hate not testing my clothing out on runs. No chafing allowed. Running skirt, compression sleeves, toe socks, and my Newtons. I put my hair in pigtails, but had to buy them under a hat, with the impending rain. I hate running in hats…so I was not a happy girl.
Cathy, Heather, and Jenn all took turns in the bathroom and I was a complete spaz, trying to get everything else in order to head to the buses to take me to Hopkinton and the start line. I had made arrangements with my friends Matthew and Jodie to meet them at the Starbucks across from Boston Common (the bus loading spot) the day before. When I had everything on, including the throw-away gloves with bear head mitten tops (a last minute CVS purchase), we all headed out. I was carrying my banana and cereal (because I didn’t want to eat too early), and had my fuel belt stocked with GU and my water and Nuun. We stepped out of the hotel and into the chilly, windy morning. And we headed for Starbucks.
I spotted Jodie the minute I stepped inside and we gave each other huge hugs. Matthew was still not around. We waited for as long as we dared, but we had a narrow window for our corral’s bus time and we didn’t want to miss it. I texted Matthew to say we were heading for the buses, and then handed off my phone to Cathy. They walked us over to Boston Common, to the security check point. We gave hugs all around and then Jodie and I stepped on in. And we ran into Matthew. HA! Perfect. We headed past most of the bus loading docks because those were filling fast. We just kept going down further and further until we hit a shorter line. And that was our shuttle. We stepped inside, took seats near the back, and settled in for the ride. As the bus pulled away, we spotted Cathy and the rest standing on the side of the road holding up a sign that read: “RUN LIKE SOMEONE IS SHOUTING GAME OF THRONES SPOILERS!” FUNNY! A lot of people got a kick out of it. I waved…and the journey began.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” ~Mark Twain
It felt like the longest bus ride of my life. Matthew and I talked. Jodie and I talked. We mostly looked out the windows and anticipated our arrival at Hopkinton. Nerves were high. Excitement was high. And for me, I was trying to figure out how I could do this race. It wasn’t going to be pretty. When I got the last-minute word that I could run/walk it…I put it out there that I’d love to have some company on the journey. So many people said they weren’t running this one for time…but for the experience. No one stepped up to take me up on the offer, and I don’t blame them. I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s time, expectations, or experience. But all those times I smiled and said, “No…I don’t want/need/…”…that voice inside my head was pleading, “Please…someone get me through this…someone…say you’ll stick it out with me.”
Heather, me, Cathy and Jenn on race morning before stepping out into the damp cold that would plague us the rest of the day
Anyway…we disembarked at Hopkinton and made our way into the Athlete’s Village. It was a city of tents and small vendor stations for Gatorade, bagels, and the like. Unlike NYC, this time, I had my banana with me and the rest of my cereal to polish off. I ate some of it on the bus there. Timing is key. And I also needed to take my Mobic for my pain (I know…this is not a good idea, but it was necessary!). Matthew, Jodie and I immediately got into the lines for the port-a-potties. We met some great people behind us and chatted with them for awhile. We took our turns and then went and found shelter under one of the tents to get off our feet and just try to wrap our head around the experience. The tents were alive with chatter and they had their phones. I was wrapped up in my blanket and poncho, huddled in to keep warm. It was a very breezy morning and I was really regretting my “suck it up, cupcake!” attitude with the start line weather and wishing I had some sleeves on my shirt. The red corral (or the one that goes off with the elites) was already being loaded up. I waited until about 30 minutes before we’d have to be in the corrals to eat my banana. Then, after sitting for a bit more, trying not to tighten up from shivering, the three of us heard the white bibs were being put in their corrals all the way through Wave 8. We were Wave 8. We got up…and we headed that way.
Me and Jodie before the Boston Marathon
My heart was pounding as we stepped through the different checkpoints with the volunteers. The Mylar cape I had made out of the wrap they gave us to help keep warm at start village was wrapped tightly around my legs. My blanket and poncho adorned my upper half. I was keeping it all in place until 5 minutes before leaving. And I did. Matthew branched off to go find a bathroom again and Jodie and I continued on. We found a spot in the crowd and stood there and shivered, joking around, checking our shoes, and just mentally preparing ourselves. I knew Jodie was going to kill it. She’d been doing amazing things in her training. And she’s super fast. Hell, she qualified for Boston running a marathon in rain, thunder, lightning, and hail. YES. HAIL! She was badass and this race had nothing on her. We finally convinced ourselves to ditch our warm gear…tucking the clothing and blankets and poncho into the bags for donation or handing them off to volunteers. The Mylar went next. And soon, we were shivering with the rest of them.
Our wave was sent off and for the first 1/4 mile, I hung with Jodie. The first part of Boston is downhill and she was trying not to go out too fast. I finally let her go and settled into a pace I thought I could maintain for a little while. Not going to lie, each step was painful, but I could tolerate it. Matthew caught up to me before I got through the first mile. He said, “Well, Karen…we finally got to run a marathon together.” I laughed and told him to enjoy his run. Everyone would be smoking me this time. I soon lost him in the crowd ahead. And then…there was me.
I actually maintained a decent pace (not great…but under the circumstances) for the first 10K. After I hit that though, I started needing to incorporate short walks in with the running. I didn’t want to…but I needed to. I have a torn labrum in the hip…I was hurting. But…I still managed. I maintained small walk breaks with running through the next 5-6 miles. Each move was starting to hurt more and more. Thankfully, there was a great crowd, and I took all the cheering and high fives I could get. Around the halfway point is where you hit Wellesley College, and you can hear the screaming from about a half mile away. It’s insane. There is a reason that area is called “The Scream Tunnel.” The women of the college were out and cheering, just like the rest of Boston, despite the horrific weather and cold. There were a couple of women who had no tops on and were covering up with cardboard signs. Craziness. But that was such a rush. You read about it…but to experience it…that’s another thing. At about Mile 15, I slowed again, and this was where Tammy, from my running group, tapped me on the shoulder. She looked at me and asked, sincerely, how I was doing. I told her I was hurting. She asked if I needed anything and when I said no, she pulled out, glancing back a couple times at me. When I ran into her Annie May’s Sweet Cafe back in Louisville the following Wednesday, she gave me a hug and said she should have stayed with me.
Mile 16, I managed a small surge of speed, but after that, my body was done. It literally hurt to run. Walking was easier, so my walking became more of what I was doing. I had 10 miles to go…and I was determined to get through them. There were people who would call out to me from the sideline, my race number or “Maniac” for the Marathon Manaic singlet I was wearing. They said encouraging words to me. Wrapped an arm around me and told me to keep going. That I was doing good. Instead of tackling Heartbreak Hill…I had to walk the entire thing. My heart was breaking because I had dreamed of taking on these hills. I had a medic stop me around Mile 22 to ask what was wrong. I told him I was doing Boston on a torn labrum and that I was run walking. He asked if I was okay. I nodded. I was freezing. But I was moving. I had a few runners tell me FMP…Forward Moving Progress. Every little bit made me keep pushing because every synapse of my body wanted to quit. I am not a quitter, however. If I cross that starting line, I’m going to cross that finish line. Tears were pretty much part of the race outfit by this point. The rain was coming down. The cold, icy winds were blowing, and I was walking. WALKING…the Boston Marathon. My heart was breaking more than my body was at this point. I was so disappointed and angry…emotions were just bubbling over. Another medic on the course came to walk at my side and asked if I needed a Mylar blanket or anything. I shook my head and sobbed a “No.” I said, “I”m almost there…I just need to get there.” He wished me luck. I had two Marathon Maniacs come up to me and take pictures with me. They were just so uplifting at that moment. I was told I was adorable.
Me running down Boylston Street toward the finish line of the 2015 Boston Marathon
The mental struggle at this point was more than the physical pain. I’ve run with pain before. But knowing that time was ticking away and this race, this race which I had wanted so bad…which I earned…was slipping away…I was WALKING my Boston Marathon…it was more painful than the present limp in my stride. I saw the famous Citgo sign…and I knew I had just over a mile to go.
In my head, as I walked as fast as I could, I said that when I made the turn onto Hereford Street, I would run that hill and then run as much as I could manage…but RUN…down Boylston Street to that finish line. And when the time came, that’s what I did. Mind over matter. Finish this race strong, even though it was the most disappointing, hardest race I’ve attempted. I pushed up the hill on Hereford and rounded that corner to Boylston. I started down the stretch, immediately catching sight of Cathy, Heather and Jenn, who were SCREAMING for me. Not at me…but for me. I made a heart with my hands, and waved…and then focused on that finish line. It felt, literally, like it was 100 miles away. It hurt to make that dash, if you could call it that, but I didn’t care. I was running across that finish line. And when I crossed it, the tears just came down. The rain is a wonderful thing at moments like that. I was shivering. My lips were blue. I couldn’t feel my fingers at all. If my hip hadn’t hurt so much, I probably wouldn’t have known if my legs were still attached.
But I finished.
From there, I hobbled through the finishing area. It actually took a good long while to get to the place where the volunteers were handing out medals. I was shaking and shivering, but I bowed my head as someone slipped it around my neck. I didn’t ever want to take it off. A little further up was the Mylar poncho, which I was helped into. It did little to help. My body temperature was very low. I was then handed some water and a bag of recovery food stuff…and I hobbled along, following the signs that would take me to the family reunion area. It was a long, hard, cold walk. Along the way, I had about 5 volunteers stop me to ask if I wanted to get into a bus to get warm. I was suffering hypothermia at the finish line, but I was so focused on getting to where my friends were. I said I was going to meet my friends and get to my hotel. They let me go.
Sometimes, the best thing you can see after a race like that is smiling faces. I got hugs all around and congratulations. They told me how proud they were of me. And I just cried. I just…couldn’t stop. I wanted to get to the hotel, so we started to walk that way. I could barely walk, and Heather offered to carry me. I told her I’d be fine…I’d just be slow. I was beyond slow. It seemed to take forever and the rain and wind weren’t helping. But I got back to the hotel…freezing…sore as hell…and up to my room. I got my gear off, got out of wet clothes, and took an amazing hot shower. After changing and settling in on my bed…I answered texts and Facebook messages…I called my parents, who backed out of coming, and my sister. I tried very hard to let the accomplishment shine, not the disappointment I was feeling. I think I managed well enough.
We celebrated with cups of wine (Heather & I went high class with paper cups!) and a piece of chocolate. We toasted to the Boston Marathon. And then…Heather had to leave to catch a flight. Hugs were given. Cathy fetched me some ice…and we settled in for some peaceful relaxation in a warm hotel room until we wanted to get dinner.
So…in the end…The Boston Marathon wasn’t the dream race I had hoped to have back when I qualified a year and a half ago. Everything went wrong along the way. My body fell apart months before the actual event. And I did everything I could to get to that start line without further damaging myself. Yes…I am a finisher. I am proud of myself for not quitting. I am proud of myself for perservering. I am not proud of that marathon finishing time. I am not proud of how much I walked. I am proud for finding out just how fucking strong I am. THIS…is Boston Strong. This limpy-gimpy, frozen, crying soul at the finish line…is BOSTON STRONG!
So…with it all said and done, I hobbled my way through to a finish time of 5:07:08. I was 25262/26610 finishers overall. I was the 11262/12022 woman to cross the finish line. And, I was 5608/6011 in my age division. Yeah…you can bet these statistics don’t sit well with me. I actually didn’t want to post them. But, you know…this is a race I won’t forget. I struggled. I cried. I limped. I walked. I would have crawled if it came to that…if it got me to that finish line. But I finished. It is my worst, and yet, most memorable marathon. It is my greatest and my worst moment in the years I have been running. This is, by no means, the race I wanted nor dreamed of. I can only hope that, one day, I’ll get a redo.
“Don’t worry about failures, worry about the chances you miss when you don’t even try.” ~Jack Canfield
I find out on Wednesday how my doctor wants to work on getting my hip back into running form. I want whatever will be the best for me in the end, with the least amount of downtime, and the best option to get me back out there, running stronger than before. Please…keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I have a feeling I have a long road ahead of me.
Never Give Up!Sometimes, no matter how closely you follow the recovery rules…your body mechanics catch up with you. And that…has happened to me.
And it’s pretty devastating. If you’re a runner…you get it. If not…you’ll probably find me a bit dramatic. Hell, you might find me that way regardless…but what it comes down to is…my body is fighting back.
It all started in January. After I ran the Charleston Marathon, I took a good bit of time off to properly recover. I had been running myself ragged (literally) over the past year, and instead of my usual 1 week off from all activity, I took a bit longer. But, one morning, I woke up and had a very unhappy lower back. The left side of my back was sore…to press on and to move. I took further time off (because you shouldn’t mess around with the back, honestly). And then…the hip pain happened…
…and then the hip pain didn’t go away. It was so much that it was hard to even walk. No running at all. After waiting an additional two weeks (missing a marathon due to weather too), I went to see a sports orthopedic doctor. Xrays turned up nothing…which was good. So, he sent me to physical therapy, which I started that same week.
My physical therapists are awesome. I started off with Emily Bullerdick, PT, DPT. And she took much of the first session to assess what was going on. Turns out, I have a locked lower back. AH…back to that lower back. The entire lower back didn’t want to move, so the rest of my body…shoulders and hips, were trying to balance it out by overcompensating. Okay…I was given some back exercises and scheduled for 4 sessions in the following two weeks. I went…I did exercises twice a day at home…I even did them at work…and I wasn’t feeling any better. Emily was off one day the following week, so I got to meet with another PT. This time I met with Steven Hnat PT, DP. He took a look at Emily’s notes and plugged away at some of what she had me doing. Then, tried a little more, working with my nerves. He mentioned dry needling and gave me some information on that. I looked it over and got scheduled for a regular PT appointment and a dry needling appointment the following week.
Dry needling…is painful. It really is. It is also known as Intramuscular Manual Therapy (IMT)/Trigger Point Dry Needling (TDN) and is a modern Western medical modality. Dry Needling is a treatment technique which uses these small filament type needles to release tight muscles with the goal of permanently reducing muscle pain and dysfunction. With DN, the needle alone and its effects on the tissue is the treatment. Physical therapists are now using this technique around the world to effectively treat acute and chronic orthopedic and musculoskeletal conditions. . My first (yes…first) session, Steven did dry needling in my thigh, my hip, and along my IT band. The IT band needles he hooked up to an E-stim, which sent pulses of current through the needles and into the knotted muscles. THAT…didn’t feel good at all. But I did get a bit of relief from it.
The next week was a follow up with my doctor…and as the pain was subsiding he told me to enjoy Boston and to get some running in. Emily said the same thing, and before leaving that day, she put me on the treadmill to do some light running. I kept an easy pace and managed a relatively pain-free 1 mile. The next day, I went over to the gym and attempted two. I was fine while running, but when I was done, I was just sore. It was hard to go down the stairs to do some of my post-run stretches. And then, that weekend, I set out to do a short run on Saturday morning, and my body hated ever step. I managed a mile and spent the rest of the day in excruciating pain. Back to the orthopedic doctor I went…
And that was when the MRI was ordered.
I continued my physical therapy sessions, having one with the actual stretching and another round of dry needling. This time Steven hit up my hip again, but did the E-stim to my lower back. That was the most not-fun thing I’ve done in a long time. I was pretty sore after that for the rest of the week. Not in my hip…but in my back. I continued to do my exercises until I decided they weren’t doing much for the problem…and stopped. I literally just stopped doing anything.
My MRI was on Tuesday afternoon. My follow-up was on Wednesday (also the 2 year anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombings…and tax day…but…well…). So, the fate of the Boston Marathon I earned now hung in the results of an MRI. My orthopedic doctor came in and pulled up the images. And there…at the top of my hip joint, he pointed out the smallest of soft-tissue tears. It was an anterior labrum tear. Super small…but that was the reason for all the pain.
This, by the way, is a very common injury with active women…especially in their 30s. Weird, I know. But it’s because we have these things called HIPS! What caused this? It wasn’t overuse…because I hadn’t been doing anything when the pain occured. Turns out that chronically and habitually tight muscles around joints can cause a lack of joint mobility, which, over time, too much compression on those joints can cause structural damage…most commonly labral tears. This is especially true in young athletes. Even sitting too much at a computer or in a car can cause habituated muscle tension that won’t go away. I also have a tilted pelvis which made the soft tissue rub against the joint and bring on the tear sooner as well. Ah…body mechanics.
Sitting for long periods of time has always been a problem for me. What this comes down to is the tightness of my lower back through everything else out of whack. Tie that in with my habitually tight and short hamstrings, and this was basically a problem I was going to face 10 years down the road regardless of whether I was active or not. It happened to me sooner, rather than later, however.
Am I doing Boston? I am. I have been given permission to run/walk the Boston Marathon as I feel. I was injected with a Cortisone shot on Wednesday as well. I spent much of yesterday in a great deal of pain from that, but that is wearing off now, thank God. Upon returning from what will likely be my worst marathon ever…I am going to start working on getting this all fixed. No surgery. But lots of hip and core strengthening. And, we will go from there.
Is this the Boston Marathon that I wanted? Not one bit. While I had every intention of not racing here…but just having a good run and drinking in the experience…this was not the result that I wanted. BUT…at least I can go there and have my race. Maybe one day I’ll be back to the runner I used to be. This isn’t going to stop me…it just my hinder and slow me down for awhile.
I do want to say, I did get quite a bit of love and support from people throughout this ordeal, checking in on me, asking how my pain was doing…and letting me know that they missed seeing me out there. That was nice to know I had that kind of support because being down with an injury is so isolating. People forget about you…and when you aren’t around…they don’t think to call or text to check in on you. So, the fact that every now and again, my friends and running mates did, helped. A lot.
So…Boston is going to be a painful ordeal, I believe. But, whether it takes me 4 or 8 hours to get to that finish line…I will cross it. Proudly. Probably in tears. And then…I’ll work on getting better.
Think of me on Monday, friends. I’ll need all the support I can get.
Me crossing the finish line of the Charleston Marathon – Charleston, South Carolina
Race: Charleston Marathon
Place: Charleston, South Carolina
Date: January 17, 2015
Time:3:40:54
First race of the year. Why not make it a marathon, right? Right! Actually, I had this one on the radar since last year…so, I was very excited to finally register for it (which I did late…like in December…whoops!). I already had a place to stay (thanks Janet Dailey!) and two amazing tour guides (shout-out to Richie and Amanda!) who spend as much time as they can in Charleston, South Carolina, taking out any sort of travel apprehension because…they know everything! So things were definitely falling into place.
The only thing that wasn’t was, naturally, my foot. It had been doing so well, but the week before the race, my plantar fasciitis decided it wanted to flare up again. Not the foot that caused me issues this past summer. Original foot. The one with the plantar issue to begin with. I think I need to get some new shoes…because I have worn the hell out of both pairs that I am wearing currently.
Anyway, I’d continued to train, easing up on pace and doing my speed work slower. And it seemed that after the first two miles, it stopped hurting. I didn’t tempt fate though…just did what I could while maintaining my training. Foot was no bueno…but it wasn’t knocking me out. Nope. I could still run. Granted 7 treadmill miles is definitely different from 26.2 miles on the road (tready running is VERY different from road running…and I prefer the road!), but for now I’m keeping speed work inside on the treadmill. Most of my runs leading up to this marathon have been indoors due to the extreme cold. Call me a wimp, but once the temps fall below 20 degrees, I don’t consider it safe for my body to be out running, even if it is a couple of miles. My longest run leading into this race was back before Christmas…14 miles…after that, nothing went over 10. Not the best way to train, but I think subconsciously, I was ignoring the fact that I signed up for a marathon.
That’s what happens when you deal with a debilitating injury for 3 months. You get…a little nervous. Nevermind that I ran the TCS NYC Marathon back in November. I have a goal this year to make it out injury free. I’m doing what I can to maintain that goal. So, definitely under-trained for this one, for sure.
On Friday, I got up and did an easy 3-mile shakeout, still babying the foot. I wasn’t worried about speed. I went outside and just did 3 miles. Home, shower, breakfast, finish packing, and then Cathy and I went to work. We weren’t there long. Only for a few hours, to close out accounts and enter as much as we could before the clock hit 10:30 a.m. Then, we were out the door, to the bank, and then on the way to the Louisville airport. Parked the car, headed inside. I checked my bag, praying that it would get to Charleston as it had all my race gear in it (I know…never do that, but I had no choice!), and we got into the security line. I was randomly selected to do TSA Pre-Screen…which meant I got the shorter security line, didn’t have to take off my shoes, my hoodie, or remove my laptop from my backpack. LOVE IT! Cathy was not as fortunate, and it took her quite a bit longer to navigate the regular TSA security line. But, she eventually made it through. We got to our gate and she went to grab some loaded baked potato soup from Chili’s and grabbed me a fruit cup. We ate lunch and polished it all off just before we had to board the plane. Good timing! Our first stop was Atlanta…ugh. We were also boarding in Zone 3…and had a feeling Cathy would have to check her bag due to lack of overhead space. She did…but at least she got to do it for free. It would meet us in Charleston as well. With that done, we hopped on our flight and found our seats.
First stop…Atlanta. Very brief stop at that. We had long enough to get off the plane, go to the train, take it from A to B gates…find our gate…go to the bathroom…eat a snack bar…and then get ready to board. At least we had time for that. We took our seats, took flight…and read until we hit the runway at the Charleston International Airport. The airport was really small for being an international hub, but we made our way to Baggage Claim…got our luggage than headed to Enterprise for the rental car. Longest line ever. For real. It took us longer to get a rental car than it did to do anything else in any of the airports that day. None of the other car rental places had lines, but we had already reserved a car with Enterprise, and we trust Enterprise. So…we stuck it out. Finally, it was our turn and we ended up with a Hyundai Elantra. We went out to retrieve said car, piled our stuff inside, and made our way to Burke High School for the Health & Fitness Expo and Packet Pick-up. It took us about 15 minutes to navigate to the high school, following horrible Google Map directions. But, we made it…parked…and had to walk all the way around the building to get inside the area where the expo was being held.
That being said…we made it. I immediately headed over to the packet pickup for the full marathon. I got out my wallet to show my ID and was just asked for my bib number. This was sent to me via e-mail earlier and was really easy to remember. I replied with “Bib 113.” And they got it down from their system of hanging bibs and handed it to me. No ID check or anything. They said that the t-shirt and bag pick-up were across the auditorium. Awesome. I went down to the end of the table to scan my chip and ensure that it was, indeed, functioning. Then…off I went to retrieve my race shirt and bag. The bag only contained some pamphlets for local businesses and races. The shirt was white with a painting of Rainbow Row houses on it. Gorgeous. I tucked the shirt inside the bag and then went on the hunt for some GU. Luckily the Fleet Feet booth had some for sale, and I snagged 2 Strawberry Banana, 1 Triple Berry, and 1 Mandarin Orange. I had one with me in my luggage…so that would do. After I left, I spotted the rack of CEP Compression Gear…and had noted that I had forgotten my recovery socks…so I went to see if they had anything in my size. They had a pair of black and grey CEP socks…so I went back to the Fleet Feet booth and purchased those as well. HA! They were getting my money for sure. With that done, Cathy went to see where she could get shuttle tickets to get from the start to the finish and then from the finish back to the start (runners got to do this for free)…and I went in search of my NYC Marathon Hard Core Runner buddy, Jennie. We met up near the Community Coffee booth and had hugs all around and discussed how the weather would be chilly, but after NYC…eh…this was nothing. We talked about running, families, training, outfits, and even our injuries. She was doing a run/walk method due to an issue with her back. We hung around and talked and Cathy returned to steal my phone and place a delivery order with the Charleston Mellow Mushroom for a gluten-free and vegan Cosmic Karma pizza for that night. She returned and we talked a bit more with Jennie before we all said goodbye. Cathy and I needed to hit up the local grocery store (and race sponsor), Harris Teeter, for some things for the hotel room (fruit, water, yogurt) and then get to the hotel before the pizza did. So, we left the expo and then headed to the grocery store, following even worse Google Map directions. I got out my cell phone and directed her.
Me with Jennie at the Charleston Marathon Expo! So great to meet one of my Hard Core Runners!
We made it to the Harris Teeter and started loading up a basket with bananas, apples, Greek yogurt, water, and a Sprite Zero. After I run a marathon, it helps calm my stomach. It’s the only time I drink soda anymore. We checked out at the grocery store and hopped back into the car. And went the wrong way to the Lodge Alley Inn, where we were staying. So, we turned around, and just as we pulled up in front of the hotel on East Bay Street, Mellow Mushroom’s delivery guy called. He was outside of the hotel. I told him we just pulled up and he met me on the corner. We did some shady (not really) dealings and I gave him money and tip for the pizza and thanked him very much. Cathy wasn’t sure what to do with the car now that we were there and put on the blinkers and left me standing there with the pizza while she went inside. It took her about 5 minutes…and here I am with a car that was definitely not parked well and all that…just waiting. She returned, said we were good to go, and the valet met us with a cart to put our luggage and groceries on. He then took the keys and went with us up to our room on the third floor. We got inside…got things put down…and gave the valet a tip. He left to go park the car after unloading our stuff. And I put away what needed to go in the fridge. Then, as it was nearing 7 p.m…I said, “Can we eat pizza now? It’s getting SO late.” I don’t like to eat too late when I have a race. I like everything to be digested. So, we went into the living room, turned on Diners, Drive-In’s & Dives, and dove into the pizza. I think I devoured it in record time. It is so much better at the restaurant. With it getting a little cooled off on the delivery and the wait for the room, the crust got a little soggy. MEH. Oh well…I ate it. Fuel for the following morning.
Cathy’s sister and brother-in-law, Amanda and Richie, stopped by after we finished eating to make sure we were settled in. We stood around and talked for awhile, but Amanda said she knew we had an early morning. She said she would try to make it down to the finish, but no promises. I told her no worries either way. Hugs all around and promises of lots of site seeing after I ran. I went to brush my teeth and get into my pajamas so I could climb into bed and zonk out for the night. I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept worrying that the two alarms I set to wake me up for the race wouldn’t go off. And, at some point, Cathy had gotten out of her bed and turned the clock down because it “emitted too much light.” So, as I was tossing and turning, I went to check the time and couldn’t find it. I thought she unplugged it and was now pissed because I couldn’t reassure myself that I wouldn’t oversleep. UGH! The alarm went off a bit later…I got up…did my usual first alarm stuff…then climbed back into bed for less than an hour. More tossing and turning. Second alarm. Up to change and get ready for the race. I never felt so tired and unenthusiastic in my life. I grumbled a bit at her after I woke her up so she could get ready about the clock thing. The next few nights, the clock was left untouched.
We were up…and I ate my serving of cereal, as I often due on race morning. She had a breakfast bar. I filled up my water bottles with my water and electrolyte drinks, tucked my GU packets into pockets, and got pinned up with my race bib. It was 36 degrees that morning and I went back and forth on wearing a tank top or a short sleeve shirt. Given it was in the 30s, I opted for the shirt. I made sure my anklet with wings on it that my mom and dad got me for Christmas was on my ankle, then put on my hat, gloves, and coat. I was as ready as I was going to be. Grabbing two bananas for the road, we headed out. The valet had our car ready and we got inside, heading off to the start line, near where packet pickup was at Burke High School. We parked in one of the nearby parking lots with over an hour in time to spare, so I leaned the seat back and took a nap. Seriously. I was grumpy and tired and my foot had been bugging me slightly, so I said, “Screw it…I’m napping.”
Me taking a nap before the Charleston Marathon
No argument from Cathy, although she took a picture on my phone and put it up on Facebook. HA! She made me open my eyes around 7:15 to get out, stretch, eat my banana, and get acclimated. So…I reluctantly peeled myself out of the car. It was chilly, but not too bad. I walked over to the starting area where runners for both the marathon and half marathon were clustering. Some were being interviewed on camera. Some were talking with friends. I handed Cathy my banana and did some actual stretching. Especially with the foot…although it really didn’t help. Meh. Then, at about 7:30, I ate my banana and then continued to stretch until I decided I was done with that. We then looked around at all the runners, noting that most of them were doing the half marathon. I saw some great running tights that I now need to find and purchase for myself. And I noticed a guy near where I was standing who was going to go running in…sandals. Ouch. But, hey, to each their own.
The announcer said we were getting close to go time and that there were 49 states and 7 countries. The holdout state who didn’t show up…Hawaii. Naturally. Cathy said she was going to go get her spot to watch the start…so she wished me luck and I went to move further back into the pack. My goal for this race was to run it smart, run what I felt, and to run the entire way. With the foot acting up as of late though, I wasn’t sure how much of this I could accomplish. In the end, it’s just about crossing that finish line. No time goal for me…just to run well. I was also dedicating this race to a friend of mine, who I won’t list by name, but simply call her out by her first initial – N – who is going through a rough patch and I wanted to just run this for her.
The Charleston Marathon benefits the arts, so two students of a local school of the arts beautifully sang the National Anthem. And, moments after that…we were told to get ready…and GO!
We were off!
I started my Garmin as I crossed the start line, flashed a wave at Cathy as I ran by, and joined the very crowded start for an easy pace. It had to be an easy pace…which was good. Everything at the start was just crowded with both the marathon and half marathon runners, that it was just a slow start. Perfect. This kept me from going out too fast.
And that sort of set the pace (literally) for the remainder of the race. With one little glitch. After perfectly hitting that first mile, something went wrong. My watch beeped heading into Mile 2…and it was .25 miles further down the road that the mile marker stood. Um…perhaps they were getting a perfect 26 mile marking? I was trying to figure it out, but my brain wasn’t wrapping around it. Ah well…sometimes this happens and it fixes itself later on. I just kept on going. Miles 2 – 3 were spent on the beautiful coat line, with the palmeto trees, the battery, and the gorgeous mansion houses. I was just loving the scenery. Beautiful morning and a beautiful run.
Miles 3 – 9 were all spent on King Street. The first part of King Street being the shops and stores that you would find around most downtowns. There were clutches of people there to cheer on runners. I even noticed a Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams shop just before my watch beeped to Mile 5. I love Jeni’s…
Ahem.
The other half of King Street was more industrial and a lot quieter. Once all the people and the shops were passed…and the houses gone…there was only the industrial district. Granted, there were race volunteers, police, and even entertainment scattered throughout, but much of this was definitely out of the way and going to be a bit of a lull in the small crowd that had been spectating before.
Just before Mile 10 there was the split for the half marathon and full marathon happened. This was slightly confusing as the race official said, “Split after the water station.” It meant…right after the water station. I was running along and both half and full marathoners were weaving over to get the water/Gatorade…and quite a few of us thought that the turn was up ahead where the half marathon continued on. But a race volunteer saw my yellow bib and said, “Full marathon turn here…RIGHT HERE!” Sharp pivot and off I went in the correct direction where some orange cones were set up. This was sort of a gravely area that gave way to broken pavement and then made a bit of a turn to an area that was an old Navy base. It was really fun to run in an area where all the signs said that proper identification was needed to enter. HA! This section of the run was pretty brutal…just because there was no one out there. Up until you make a turn to head out to Cooper River Marina. There was a group of cheerleaders out there as you headed onto the marina. This section was hard because about 3/4 of the way up the marina, there was a sign that had you turn around. Pinpoint turn. One of those turns my friend, Natalie, hates. I hate them too. This totally messed with the cadence and pace I had at the time, but I turned…and then took back off the other way. As we came off the marina, our time chips were read off. This was supposed to be around Mile 11.9…but as we know…I was ahead of the mile markers.
As I was around my halfway point, I saw Jennie, heading toward the old Navy base where I had just come from. We high-fived as we passed and I told her she was doing great. She was. And I hoped I would get to see her at another point. With this being said, let me point out that at this point, we have runners running one way and then the other way…in the same area…without cones up to keep the groups apart. In straightaways, like this part…it was fine. But when you’re trying to make turns on the tangents…this made for a right mess. Seriously. You had runners going opposite ways trying to occupy the same area. It was messy. Just before my watch beeped for Mile 15, we rejoined the half marathon route and headed up towards North Charleston.
Me heading into Mile 18 of the Charleston Marathon – Charleston, South Carolina
Just before Mile 16, we branch off once again from the half marathon runners. The half marathon runners kept going straight. The marathon runners turned left onto McMillan Avenue. Now, Cathy had said she was going to try to catch me somewhere between Mile 17 and Mile 18…so I started looking for her as my watch hit Mile 17…and then further up the road…the Mile 17 marker was standing. There were a few clumps of people here and there…but not many. But as I was heading into Mile 18, there she was…under a bridge with a small clump of people. She started yelling, “GO TWIN! GO MY SON!” It was awesome. As she snapped a picture, I flashed some thumbs up and she said, “Come on…look happy!” LOL!! But, it turned out to be a great photo. And as I was heading out she shouted, “SEE YOU AT THE FINISH!”
So started the miles of looping through neighborhoods and schools. No…seriously. It was just this back and forth through turns and twists and it was just mind boggling. As I was heading into Mile 19, I saw runners come back my way, which meant…more doubling back was ahead. I heard the photographers complaining about having a race that criss-crosses like this. And I totally saw the validity in their point. It just became chaotic at points with runners occupying the same space, once again, going different directions. So, we wound up and around these roundabouts, of what I think they call Park Circle. As the miles ticked down, we ran past Academic Magnet School. So many twists and turns and out and backs. It was dizzying. Thank goodness for the arrows to direct us the correct way.
It was about Mile 22 that my pace started to slow. And it wasn’t that I was tired. It was that my foot started to act up. It had behaved for the most part all the way up to that point, but now each step was starting to hurt. I wasn’t going to give up. I was four miles away and hadn’t walked yet. I was doing this thing. So, I gritted my teeth, literally, and just focused on getting to that finish line. Mile 23 was much the same, and I eased up a bit more. Mile 24 felt like it had a bit of a downhill to it, but I slowed up some more, while still keeping with my plan to run the entire race. The course turns back toward the old Navy base and to the Noisette Park. This area was stunning, with views of the Cooper River, huge houses, the old base, etc. We were back on the same course as the half marathon runners. And there were a few still out there. Two miles. I told myself two miles.
Before I knew it, I was making a turn and being told that I had one more turn ahead to the finish. My watch had long since beeped Mile 26. I had no idea how much further I had to go, but I knew I had to be almost to the finish line, which was located in front of North Charleston High School. There was a definite crowd down here. And as I spotted one more final turn, I saw Cathy right on the corner, screaming for me to GO! I dug deep, and pushed it. That finish line was right ahead. And as I crossed that finish line, I threw my arms up in the air and just…took in the moment. I had finished my 9th marathon! Charleston Marathon…done. I paused my Garmin and moved through the chute to obtain my medal. I grabbed some water and made a turn and saw Cathy heading my way. She gave me a hug and told me how well I did. I told her I was hurting really bad. But…I felt good. I checked my Garmin…26.69 miles it said.
We meandered out of the crowd toward where the after party was happening. Runners were given free beer (not my thing…for obvious reasons) and free shrimp and grits (also not my thing, for obvious reasons). I went to go elevate my feet and call my mom and dad to tell them how I did…but as we were heading that way, I said we needed to get my official time at the results booth. We doubled back a little and went to do just that.
And there it was…3:40:54.
Me after finishing the Charleston Marathon – Charleston, South Carolina
BRILLIANT! I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy with the time for my first Ultra Marathon (HAHAHA!). Well, it was my first marathon I went into feeling semi-ready. The only problem was my nagging plantar fasciitis, which I only aggravated in those last 4 miles. But hitting that finish line still feeling strong was an amazing feeling. With my official results now listed, I went to get my feet up and call my parents. Cathy went to claim the free shrimp and grits, which she said were watery and not all that good. She picked out the shrimp and ditched the rest. After I got off the phone with my parents, I was ready to head out. Amanda hadn’t made it to the finish…but after a shower and a change of clothes, we were all heading out for some sushi and then sight seeing. So, Cathy and I hopped onto the shuttle bus to go back to the start where the car was parked. I was moving slow, each step a little painful. But we got on the bus and found a seat. We were near the emergency exit and when we sat down, the seat pretty much sank. Leave it to us. Also, apparently after hitting a hard bump, the lever lifted up on the emergency door and the buzzer and alarm started sounding. Cathy managed to get that turned off eventually.
We were returned to the start line and I hobbled with Cathy’s help back to the car. I settled in, turned on the heat, and she drove us back to the hotel. I got cleaned up, Amanda came over, and we went out for the rest of the day. It was an amazing day. I couldn’t have asked for a better time.
So, the official results of the Charleston Marathon are that I ran 26.69 miles in 3:40:54. I was 112/1230 finishers over all. I was 26/580 females to cross the line. And I was 10/464 in my age division. I am over-the-moon with these results. I felt so good (save for the last four miles) for this entire race. And I feel it’s because I’ve taken a step back on the intensity of my training. I am resting and recovering better. It’s been awhile since I felt I could even do that. It was a great confidence booster.
Later, it came out that the lead vehicle took a wrong turn after Mile 1 and that’s what tacked on the extra .25 miles to the race. The race directors at the Charleston Marathon are remeasuring the race and adjusting everyone’s time to the 26.2 miles. But that might not happen until next week. So stay tuned for a new official time. Regardless…I’m damn proud of my performance and how I did on this run. Long, slow distance. Gorgeous scenery. Not perfect…but not bad either. It was great to run in Charleston. What a fantastic way to explore this historic city.
And N…(you know who you are!)…this one was for you!
The Celiathlete 