My life is a roller coaster these days. Good days. Bad days. Highs and lows. There are days I feel unstoppable and days that stop me cold. There are days where I feel on top of the world, and days where the tears just won’t stop.
There are pain-free days…and days where it hurts just getting out of bed.
This is my life…and has been since February 16, 2015.
Almost a year.
Still not better. Still fighting. Still not where I imagined I’d be.
I’m going to be honest, I came out of the weekend, despite the slip and fall on ice, feeling good. My pain levels were down. I was moving without problems. And then…Tuesday hill repeats. UGH! JUST UGH!! I did fine, but when I stop that’s when the problems start. And despite a round of stretches my physical therapist assigned me, I was still feeling it yesterday and this morning when I worked in my training runs.
All that being said, I’ve powered through a lot, and despite my demanding work/training/recovery schedule…I’ve done some pretty amazing things so far this week. I thought I’d share!
1. THEMED SPIN CLASSES
I think I have the perfect (always colorful) tights for a Disco-themed spin class, yes?
Rocking perfect tights for a disco-themed spin class, yes?
My amazing and inspiring friend, Deana, is a very fun spin instructor. It’s always a mixed bag with her. And when you attend one of her classes, you are going to walk out of there a sweaty mess. She’s in training for her first Half Ironman, and we’re in training with her, in a way. At least on the stationary bike in the safety of the walls of the YMCA. HA!
Anyway, this week, Deana has had themed spin classes. And I am loving it. Monday morning, my 5:30 a.m. class was treated to Spinning to the ’90s. All the music was songs straight out of the 1990s…and I knew and even sang along with every single one of them. Not loudly, because, I wouldn’t put anyone through the torture of hearing me sing, but it really takes your mind off of that hill climb and definitely brought a lot of hoots and hollers from the class. And Friday morning, we’re getting a disco ball and having our own Disco Inferno all up in the spin room. And I am already working on what I intend to wear for said Disco day. There might even be a lava lamp. Regardless, I’ll be ready to work hard to the tune of the best disco songs.
Themed spin classes…who knew?!
2. HILL REPEATS
Bright colors, bright lights, and loving that I’m DONE with hill repeats.
Love them or hate them…hill repeats are real. In fact, hill repeats are what my physical therapist currently wants me doing. So, every Tuesday, I’m out at either Cherokee Park or Iroquois Park here in Louisville…running me some major hill repeats. The past two weeks, I’ve knocked out 4 miles of hill repeats each Tuesday night. 4 freakin’ miles. To this point, that is the furthest I have run since…the stress fracture in my leg back in August.
I won’t lie…a little part of me panics every time I go out there for these. Hills do make you a stronger runner…but they hurt. In my case, they really hurt. But, I feel strong while doing them, and after some plyometric exercises and stretches…and a little TLC from my foam roller…I’m usually back in the game the next day. So yeah…hills. YAY!
I don’t worry about my time or how long I’m out there or even my speed. What’s important to me is that I am actually out and running again. Not completely pain-free…but being out there is SO much better than where I have been. I’ll take every chance I can get to attempt to get stronger again.
3. CHILI COOK OFF
Hawaiian Chili (with a bit of Gluten Free Corn Spoon Bread and Gluten Free Breton Original with Flax Crackers)
So, yesterday was the annual chili cook off at my office. Now, I have never actually submitted a chili to this cook off because, prior to this year, the co-owner (who has since retired) used to always tell me not to bother with bringing in a vegetarian chili, since his wife was making one. I just never argued the fact. With this year being wide open, I got a little carried away and ended up making 2 chilies and 1 batch of my gluten free corn spoon bread recipe that I’ve killed every time I’ve made it. Meaning, it’s extremely awesome. When it comes to cooking, especially in a quasi-competitive manner, I can be pretty indecisive on what chili to make. So, I did what any chef would do…
…I made both.
Pizza Chili (which I figured would be my star) and Hawaiian Chili.
I realized I was splitting my odds at winning, but…I love both of these chilies and they were both very different. VERY different. Even from the other chilies (there were 7 entries…2 of which were mine) that were entered into the annual cook off.
And, shocking me (and probably the rest of the office who doesn’t always want to venture into my plant-based, gluten-free goodies)…I won. With…Hawaiian Chili. So not the chili that I expected to win. I was seriously surprised. Of the two I brought in, I thought Pizza Chili would be the more popular one. And it was a very near thing with the runner-up, a Mexican Beer Chili. The winning chili is pictured above with the corn spoon bread.
I am so happy. This is the first time a vegan/vegetarian chili has won. And it’s the first time I have won anything at work. So…YAY!!
I’ve had many requests for this recipe, so I will leave it here. Do try it. It’s amazing.
Recipe: Hawaiian Chili Makes 4 very large servings
Ingredients:
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic clove, minced
2 bell pepper, seeded & diced
2 tsp chili powder
1 tsp ground cumin
2 (15 oz) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
3 cups pineapple, diced
2 (15 oz) cans tomato sauce
Crackers (optional…to serve on the side)
Directions:
Line a large pot with vegetable broth.
Sauté onions, garlic, and bell pepper until onions are translucent and bell peppers are soft.
Add spices, stir to coat vegetables.
Add remaining ingredients and simmer for 20-30 minutes.
Serve with crackers
~*~*~
Seriously…make this stuff.
If you live in the area…come to tomorrow’s 5:30 a.m. spin class at the YMCA of Southern Indiana in New Albany and let Deana bring the funk and disco back…disco ball included.
It’s almost 1 hour away from 2016. Usually around this time, I put up a blog listing off my goals for the new year.
Last year…I listed off 10 goals. Ten simple goals to work toward and achieve throughout 2015. They were:
Remain injury free
Run the hell out of the Boston Marathon
Try out a new distance
Travel far and run there
Eat better
Train harder, but smarter
Run with different people at different paces – challenge myself!
Remember that can’t run like anyone else but me…so stop comparing my speeds against my peers
Run a race on my birthday with some friends to celebrate going up an age division
Have more confidence
So, how many did I accomplish?
NONE OF THEM!! Not a single one. My year started off really well, with a great race at the Charleston Marathon. But then, the downward, and still ongoing spiral happened.
With the failures of last year weighing heavy on my heart and mind…I leave 2015 with one goal…one simple goal for 2016:
In 2016, I make only one promise to myself. I will leave the past in the past. All the heartbreak and disappointments I faced in 2015 will not define me this coming year. In 2016, I start over. Wipe the slate clean. A new year means a new start. I won’t dwell on anything except this one thing…
…to get better. To heal. To get stronger.
Yes…I am going to get better.
And that’s it. I will be healthier, happier, and stronger.
In 2015, the bad times outweighed the good. But…in less than an hour, everything changes. New year…new beginning…new outlook.
I am now going on 11 months after my hip labrum tore…with no real improvement to anything and no end in sight…
…and I just don’t feel like much of a runner these days.
I don’t feel like much of a runner these days because I haven’t been doing much running.
Because I CAN’T.
I hate that word…“can’t”…because it embodies everything that I rebel against. I don’t like limitations and I don’t like boundaries. And the word can’t embodies everything that I fight against. Someone tells me I can’t do something, and, by God, I’m going to find a way to prove them wrong. Until I discover…I really and truly…can’t.
I haven’t been able to run for the past 11 months, not because I don’t want to (believe me…I DO!)…but because I truly, and honestly…can’t.
Trust me…I’ve tried. I’ve done everything in my power to get back out there on the roads. Any setback you can come up with…I’ve probably managed to hit. I’ve done physical therapy…currently in my third round of it. I’ve tried dry needling. I’ve rested it. I’ve started swimming more (even hired a swim coach!). I’ve hired a running coach to help me set logical goals, paces, and not over-train or overdo it. I’ve gotten a stress fracture. I’ve cross-trained the shit out of my body…from elliptical to spinning to weights to core work to the strengthening stretches/moves from physical therapy.
And I still feel weak.
I am still broken.
And, despite every effort by the doctors, the therapists, and…yes…even myself…I’m not getting better. I’m not healing. The thing is…I won’t heal. That’s the nature of a labrum tear. It can’t and won’t heal on its own. So that means, I’m stuck with it. I’m stuck with pain when I move…run…walk…crawl…turn over in bed. This is what I’ve been dealing with since February 2015.
It’s almost the New Year.
I’m not a new me. I’m just a broken down version of the old me. I’m one of the misfit toys. I’m…back to being a wannabe. I’m a wannabe runner.
I’m not a runner.
Not anymore.
I’ve cried…I’ve cried some more. I’ve yelled and screamed. I’ve lashed out. I’ve held it all in until I just couldn’t anymore. I meltdown at least once a week over this. Usually more. People just don’t see it.
This injury has cost me more money than I make…in lost race fees, in medical bills, in co-pays, in equipment to get better. It has cost me a lot mentally too. I am not the confident and carefree runner that I used to be. The thought of running isn’t exciting anymore. I almost dread it. Because I know…usually just a minute or so in…it’s going to hurt. And it will hurt long after I stop.
Let’s not even begin to hit on the lost fitness and the weight gain, shall we? I feed my stress. And lately, I’m always stressed. I don’t think I need to draw this out. I don’t like the way I look or feel…yet I can’t seem to break out of the cycle. And each time I have a misstep in my nutrition, I start to loathe myself. The negative thoughts…they cut deep…and yet, I just can’t seem to turn it around.
I miss getting up early and heading out in the dark for a run. I loved the peace…hearing just the soft thumps of my feet against the pavement. I miss running with my group on Saturday morning. I miss the people I only saw on Saturdays. I feel like I’ve lost so many people because I am no longer one of them.
I miss being a runner.
I miss the person I was…the way I felt…
I miss everything.
And I try to keep the part of me that keeps saying I am never going to get it back at bay…but after this long…that voice has grown louder and that positive energy…that one little bit of hope I keep holding onto…it’s become more of a whisper.
I’m not giving up…
…I’m still fighting…
…somehow…some day…I’m going to put all the pieces back together. I’ll be complete and happy and free.
But not today. Today…I’m not a runner. Tomorrow…I will not be a runner.
Tomorrow…I’ll fight the urge to stay in bed, as I do every morning…I’ll do my strengthening exercises…I’ll cross-train…I’ll go to physical therapy…I’ll hurt all day…and I’ll keep doing it and doing it and doing it…until, with a little luck…one day…maybe…it won’t hurt so much anymore. Then…maybe…not at all.
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.
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.
Me (on the left) and Karla (on the right) crossing the finish line at the Foam Glow 5K – Birmingham, AL
Race: Foam Glow 5K
Place: Birmingham, Alabama
Date: August 8, 2015
Time: 39:51
Everyone remembers their first 5K…or their first race for that matter. It’s special. You go in with your own goals and expectations, not exactly sure what to expect, and not exactly sure how you’ll do when all is said and done. The first race is an important one, I believe – no matter what distance it is.
Just before I got my go-ahead to return to running, I found out via a phone call that my sister had taken up running. She goes out a couple times a week with her Couch25K program and her group of ladies…and runs. She will tell you she’s not fast…and she struggles…but she loves the company and the way she feels (despite some knee issues, which I helped clear up with KT Tape and getting her into proper shoes!) after she runs. She was training for a 5K with her friends. YAY! The only thing that was difficult for her was that she’d be pretty much running it on her own. Her pace is a little more deliberate than the girls she runs with, so she is often left to run on her own on training runs, and the race night would be the same.
When I got cleared to run, it also turned out the race coincided with a weekend where I had nothing else planned. And so…I talked it over with her, signed up for the race, and made arrangements to be in Birmingham to run WITH her at the race. I gave her the rules…her race, her pace. I’d stick by her side the entire time. She was more than okay with this. And, just to be cutesy, we started working on matching running outfits so we could be twinsies too! She ordered the shirt and I picked up matching shorts, knee-high socks, and said she had to have pigtails in, as that is the hairstyle I am best known for when I run. HA!
So, in the weeks leading up to the 5K, I was slowly adding on the minutes, then the miles to my runs. I had topped out at 7 miles in my friend’s very flat neighborhood the weekend before, and was a little sore afterwards, but nothing that really slowed me down. After work on Friday, I grabbed dinner (gluten-free peanut butter & jelly with grapes and a piece of dark chocolate) to eat on the road, and the roomie and I piled into the car (which was stuffed with my mountain bike that was just sitting on my balcony and that my sister could get some use out of) and made the trek down to Birmingham, Alabama…arriving a little later than planned (it took the roomie 30 minutes to use the bathroom at a gas station, I kid you not!), but getting in. Of course, I was up late just getting caught up with my parents (my mom had just recently broken her hand), but we were all winding down regardless. I climbed into bed around 11 p.m. CST (that’s midnight my time!) and set an alarm on my phone to wake me up at 5 a.m. so that I could get dressed, stretch, eat a little something and then get outside as it was getting light out to fit in the 8 miles ahead of the 5K that my coach had me scheduled to run.
I did just that…and it wasn’t easy. My parents’ neighborhood is just…HILLS!! So, I ran the first two miles easy and got warmed up, then wound my way through their neighborhood up to the walking trail. And there was where a majority of the run took place. Just as I was cresting the top of the start point, I heard a rumble, which, I thought might be thunder, but I was so close to the road, it could have been a car too. I figured it was a car…and I was off.
I was also wrong. It was thunder. And rain soon followed. And I was, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere, on this paved path that ran through Helena, Alabama. There is something about me running at my parents house and having it rain on me. It happens…all the time. Must be the Frankfort (Kentucky) affect. And if you don’t get that reference, you haven’t been reading my blog long enough (it storms/rains/precipitates every time I run in Frankfort, KY). So, I kept going, made it back to the start, and was greeted with a gorgeous rainbow flying high over a church. It was awesome. And I took a picture before winding my way back to their house for the last mile of my run. I ducked inside, took a shower, ate some breakfast, stretched…and then my sister came over with her kiddliewinks.
And it all got chaotic and fun. Karla (that’s my sis, btw) and her boys all tried the gluten-free strawberry breakfast cake I brought with me (my parents devoured it too!)…then we made a run to the grocery store for some necessities for the race and for lunch. Back home, where we got everyone ready to go and eat lunch at my roommate’s favorite spot, The Depot, in Pelham, Alabama. My mom and I had veggie burgers we prepared at home with some gluten-free pretzels. It was the big meal of the day as the race was at night and I didn’t want to run on a full belly. After lunch, my dad, Cathy and I hit up 2nd & Charles (bookstore), then made our way back to the house so that Karla and I could start getting dressed.
And that’s when the rain returned. Big monsoon as she and I climbed upstairs to my room to get into our matching running outfits. We checked the weather and it looked like it was going to pass…so that was good. After we got dressed, I put her hair in these tiny little pigtails, then did my own, strapped my Garmin onto my wrist, and we went downstairs so that Cathy could work some KT Tape magic on Karla’s troublesome knee. This was where I got to play with the cutest baby girl…as my sister’s youngest isn’t quite 1 yet.
With everything in order, and Karla’s hubby (that’s Bryan…who once ran a 5K with me) told me he approved of the tight running pants I selected for his wife to wear, we were climbing into their car (as in Bryan, Karla, Cathy, the two boys, and me) to make the over an hour drive to Talladega Speedway, which is where the race was actually being held. Well, we were dropping off vehicles at Cracker Barrel and then carpooling to Talladega. The boys needed some dinner, so it was Happy Meals at McDonalds (Cathy got one too!), and then…to the parking area of the race.
The Sole Sisters…and no, we didn’t actually plan to line up by shirt color. That just sort of happened!
Parking was super-easy, but expensive. A whole $10. Really?! Cathy footed the bill and Bryan got us parked right on the end of one of the rows. It would make finding the car in the dark a whole lot easier, for sure. We were some of the first ones here, as in of the group of ladies running, all of whom my sister trains with at some point. Two others were there before us, and Karla got us to where they were and introduced me to them. So, now I knew Margie and Lauren…(and yes, we were asked if we were twins!) and the rest were all a blur as they all began to arrive prior to the start. My sister and I decided to eat our protein bars early (that was our dinner), and split one if we got hungry between then and race time. After I devoured my bar, I actually got to meet up with a friend of mine (who I used to work with), Julie Hayes, who was walking the 5K with a friend of hers.
As the rest of the group arrived, along with the ring leader, Jenn, we departed for group shots and then…the most important part…hitting up the big foam pit.
Yep…after all…this was the Foam Glow 5K. And you can’t have a Foam Glow 5K without foam and blacklights. The sun was only just beginning to set, so the blacklights weren’t on yet…but the foam was being shot out these giant cannons. It was a lot of fun, stepping inside the staging area and just getting blasted with this soapy, foamy mess. The kids (most of the ladies brought their families!) absolutely LOVED it. I loved it. What a blast. After getting foamed up pretty good, it was back out to the group to get any last minute touches to our outfits. Jenn gave each of us the little bright yellow stripes under our eyes. We were now ready…for the race.
Until my sister’s 8 year old son went missing. YIKES!! He separated from the rest of the kids, who had all come running back to where we were from the foam. Karla was, naturally, in a panic so I went to the foam pit to find him. And I did, relatively quickly, getting him back over to his parents and saving the day! With that bit of hysteria out of the way, Karla was now in a good place to enjoy her first 5K and her first race. Whew.
And that was that…the sun had gone down…the wind had gone away, and the ladies in the crazy bright tank tops with the words, “We Don’t Sweat, We Glow!” on them all started toward the start area. The race was going off in waves, it it felt like only 20 people were going at a time. Once we got closer, we realized that wasn’t the case, but at least 10 waves went off ahead of us, and we were relatively close to the front. Karla, myself and Margie were actually corralled ahead of the rest of our group, so we ducked under the rope and rejoined our group. The group ahead of us was off…and we moved forward.
Karla looked so calm. She was smiling. She was joking around. She was relaxed. That was awesome. And, then, with a small countdown…the emcees at the race sent off our wave. And Karla was leading us off. She fell right into the pace, getting a little sucked into a first start with all the excitement, but that’s fine. That’s okay. We hit the dark course and she looked like a pro, already dodging and weaving through any more deliberate runners or the walkers that went ahead of us. I even told her she was already running like a pro. And, to take her mind off of the task at hand, I would frequently bother her with inane questions about how she felt, how her pace felt, how her knee felt…
At one point, I thought that the race people were sending us up the stairs to the speedway itself, but it was just people doing photo-ops. Karla kept us on course and we headed into what was going to be the first (of three) Foam Zones. This was a bit refreshing as the night had grown humid and the wind had died. So, the first one, we bounded through together and kept on trekking. Karla asked about distance and my 1 mile beep went off on my watch. I let her know that the beeps meant we hit a mile, so she had 2 more of them. She didn’t look amused.
Me and Karla in the big Foam Pit following the Foam Glow 5K – Birmingham, AL
This course was not easy. You pretty much get sent up a hill near the start, which is fine, but when it’s dark and you’re not expecting it…yeah. Well, I was there with Karla to give her some hints about how to properly run hills (Lord knows I’ve run my share of them!), such as push off on your toes, power up them with your arms, and take shorter steps. She listened and did really well. And when we got to the top, I congratulated her on a job well done. As we headed toward Mile 2, I hear “GO KAREN AND KARLA!” and it’s Julie! We threw our hands up in the same way (not planned…twinsies, you know!)…and continued on. At the halfway point, they were handing out water bottles. I asked Karla if she wanted water and she shook her head and said she just wanted to keep going. I snagged one just in case and we were back to bobbing and weaving and avoiding treacherous pavement on the dark path (seriously…some lights on the course would have been nice!). We hit the second Foam Zone and Karla, putting safety above all, decided to walk through the soapy sludge. Good call. The instant she was through, she picked her pace back up and we continued on. We were coming around the back part of the speedway, I think, and she slowed a little just to catch her breath. I handed her the bottle of water and she took a sip. Then, she passed it back, took a few breaths and picked her walk back up into a run. She was really making me proud. The second mile beeped on my watch.
One more mile. I told her as much. And the path seemed to be getting more treacherous. Karla twisted her ankle twice, but kept on going. I tripped on uneven pavement…but somehow, we were managing to stay on our feet. We were hitting up the final Foam Zone, which we walked through again, and when she picked back up to her run, I knew we had to be getting close. I checked my watch…and I figured from the pace she had been running that she had about six minutes left of the race.
“Six minutes,” I told her. “You can do anything for six minutes, right?”
“YES!” she said.
I taught all the girls my Power Pose for the end of the race! Foam Glow 5K…DONE!
Jenn caught up to us as we were nearing the Mile 3 mark, giving Karla a firm smack on the ass. We were so close. I would give Karla minute increments on how much longer she had…and I heard some walkers repeat it. They’d be out there a bit longer since they were walking (hehe). I told Karla that when we saw the finish line, we were going to sprint for it and cross it together. Well, I could hear the music at the finish, so we were definitely getting close. With encouragement, Karla lifted her head and put on her game face, focusing on her form and getting to that finish line. The blacklights were in view. The music was pumping…and I reached out and took her hand. For the last .1 miles, we ran together, holding hands, until we crossed that finish line. I paused my Garmin and there it was…Karla’s first 5K race…her pace…DONE…in a fantastic 39:15.
I gave her a huge hug and told her how proud I was of her. Those of us who were done stood around and took some fun pictures, drank lukewarm water, and just had a jolly good time. We were waiting on the remainder of the group, and once they crossed…it was after party time.
The husbands and kids were already living it up at the after party. Bryan was covered in foam when I saw him next. And that was exactly where the rest of us were heading. It was humid and hot and sticky, and the foam pit was cooling, a bit messy, a lot wet, and a whole lot of fun. I have never been so soapy in my life…and I love a good lather as much as the next girl. I hurt from smiling and laughing so much. I’d get all this foam sprayed all over me…manage to shake it off and wipe it away, only to get plastered from another canon on the other side of the staging area.
Honestly…it was a blast.
And afterwards, as things were wrapping up, the ladies returned to the cooler where I had packed Pink Salad for everyone to enjoy as a treat post-race. We were messy, soapy, and happy. We enjoyed our refreshing treat, which Karla graciously scooped up for everyone, and then…we all departed to head home. I had so much fun meeting these wonderful ladies who have drawn my sister into my world of running.
And I felt incredibly special to have been able to run her very first 5K with her.
Karla’s eldest son was spent, and he fell asleep on the way home, just after our gas station stop for some cold water. Her youngest was playing his Nintendo DS, but he was fading. As we pulled into Cracker Barrel, we said our goodbyes…and I once again told Karla how proud I was of her and how much fun I had. I was leaving early Sunday morning to head back to Louisville…so this was our goodbye.
I have to say…despite the path not being lit, the crush of walkers with the runners, and the uneven pavement…despite all of that, I had such a great time. Being able to run with my sister in her first race meant the world to me. She told me, “I’m slow.” And I told her…it didn’t matter. All-in-all, she had a great pace, and looked like a natural out there. I was truly blessed with the opportunity to see her through this run, meet the ladies who she goes out and runs with, and just have a fun experience that didn’t have me freaking out or tense prior to the start. There is something to be said about doing things with people you love.
Karla…Thank you for letting me take part in the Foam Glow 5K with you and allowing me to accompany you on your very first 3.1 mile run. Keep on running. I am so proud of you and can’t wait to see how you improve and where this road takes you!!
Sunset, foam, and blacklights – FOAM GLOW 5K – Birmingham, AL
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.
The Celiathlete 