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.
Music has always spoken to me. Lyrics are powerful. This one is telling my story:
“Lose our way,
We get back up,
It’s never too late
You may be knocked down but not out forever!”
I hope to have a new plan of action after my ortho appointment on December 7. Until then…I’m trying my best to keep smiling. I fail…on a daily basis…but I keep smiling…even through the tears. This has gone on too long…but I’m not out forever…
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.
So, last week, for a wonderful week, I was fortunate enough to spend some time on the two of the Hawaiian islands. The original purpose – to run the Kauai Marathon.
But then…I fractured my ankle.
Trying to start a new trend in footwear, perhaps? This is Bootsie, my new friend for the next 6-8 weeks. MEH!
Yep. Fractured my freakin’ ankle three days before leaving for Hawaii. SUCK!! I tried to put a positive spin on things…I really did. At least I was still going to Hawaii. Yeah…it didn’t really work for me then either…but I was trying. To help make this painful adjustment, I started a Twitter account for Bootsie (the boot I’m forced to wear for 6-8 weeks) to document traveling adventures. I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason…so there better be a damn good reason for this. That’s all I’m saying.
The first leg of the trip was flying out to San Diego. This gave us pretty much a full day to adjust to a bit of the time change (West Coast = 3 hours behind EST; Hawaii = 6 hours behind EST) and break up what was already a long ass flight to the islands. We’d depart San Diego before it was bright and early to get to Kauai by mid-morning. It was a plan. The ankle just meant we had to depart from the hotel sooner because I wasn’t moving anywhere very fast. So…my traveling companions, Cathy & Jenn, were both very helpful and very, very patient with me. And, I didn’t complain much. I mean, complaining won’t change the situation. I just apologized…a lot…for being slow.
The first order of business after getting to San Diego and checking into the hotel to drop off luggage was…lunch. Not having prepared for lunch, I ate a protein bar, while my fellow travelers ate tacos from a local taco stand. SO cool. But after that, I required my morning cup of coffee…so we sought out and found a great local establishment called…
Lestat’s Coffee House, San Diego, California
Lestat’s is one of those places that is open 24/7, 365 days of the year. YES…it is always open! Holiday? No worries…they’re open! Lestat’s Coffee House has a few signature drinks on their menu…and as it was pretty toasty in San Diego, I wasn’t feeling the hot coffee that day. Neither were my traveling friends. So, they each got coffee freezes (think blended drinks!) while I opted for one of Lestat’s Signature Drinks done up all refreshing and cold. Jenn got the Winter Raspberry Freeze ($5.25), which is a ice blended raspberry mocha. I took one little sip. WINNING! Cathy had me pick for her, and I choose the Arctic Squirrel Freeze ($5.25) for her, which is an ice blended hazelnut mocha (similar to the Hazelnut Turtle drink she loves at our local cafe…just…blended and cold). As for me…I went with the Iced Arctic Joey ($4.55)…which is coconut, almond and chocolate. I had mine made with coconut milk as well (+$1.00). In essence, it was a liquid almond joy. And it was delicious. There were bits of coconut floating in it. I think I was just starting to get in the Aloha spirit by getting something with coconut. Needless to say…smooth, creamy, delicious. Nothing overwhelmed the drink, and it wasn’t heavy. It was pure liquid gold. And refreshing. And tasty. And in the end, coffee should always be tasty. I was beyond happy with this decision.
Lestat’s Coffee House Iced Almond Joey with Coconut Milk
Upon arriving in Hawaii…after the rental car debacle…wherein we learned…convertible is fun…but not when you have a fractured ankle. We got it sorted…and switched out the fun and stylish convertible for…a Ford Fusion. Yeah…definitely not the way we had envisioned traveling, but it gave us more leg room and some more storage space for our big-ass luggage. LOL! After checking into Pono Kai Resort in Kauai…coffee was needed.
It’s always coffee with me. LOL!
So, we scoped out and fell in love with a local café called Ha Coffee Bar. And we went back every day we were on the island of Kauai…save for Sunday, because they are closed.
Ha Coffee Bar, Lihue, Hawaii
It was love at first “Aloha” when it came to Ha Coffee Bar. I have nothing but warm fuzzies when I think back to every stop at Ha Coffee Bar, each morning, first thing, while on Kauai. It was a bit of a drive from the resort, but always worth it. I tried three different things on the three days we were there that they were open. And, not once, was I ever disappointed in my choice. Ha Coffee Bar is a café that is built to resemble an old-school bar. No joke. Their iced drinks are even mixed in martini shakers. LOVE. This set-up allows them to showcase and sell products and items, such as pour-overs, that might not typically be served at a café. Ha Coffee Bar primarily serves espresso coffee, cold brewed coffee, pour-over and French press coffee. The variety in the types of coffee they serve allows for different origins and price points, which also helps minimize waste as they don’t have coffee sitting and going stale…high quality coffee and flexibility that allows customers to explore different blends, flavor profiles and methods of making coffee. Coffee love. And boy…did I LOVE this. On the first day there, I stayed pretty basic. I got a Salted Caramel French Pressed Cafe Au Lait with Almond Milk. I loved that they added the flavor to the steamed milk itself, and then gave me the pitcher of leftover almond milk in case I needed more of it in the drink. But it was perfect the way they gave it to me. And the French pressed coffee…OMG…so good. Jenn got a simple Iced Hazelnut Latte and Cathy got an Iced Peppermint Mocha. So, on the next morning, I noticed they had signature drinks hanging up near the register…so I decided to give one of those a try. I had it narrowed down to two…but opted for their drink the Bee Sting. The Bee Sting is simply Espresso, Coconut Milk, Honey and Cinnamon. I got it iced…as the humidity was killer that morning. Cathy got their take on an Iced Black & White Mocha (Zebra). And it was, absolutely, hands down, my favorite coffee drink of the trip. I wish I could have had it again. I would have gotten it again. The coconut milk gave it this rich flavor, the honey sweetened it, the cinnamon lent a hint of spice…and espresso…got me moving for sure. Simple…yet SO good. SO very good. In fact, on our last day there, this is the drink that Jenn opted to get after trying mine. With Ha closed on Sunday, we had to go elsewhere, but on our last day on Kauai…we were there in the morning and I was getting another signature drink…Liquid Sunshine, which was cold brew coffee, coconut syrup, and coconut milk. DELICIOUS!! Not Bee Sting delicious…but delicious. I was quite happy with it. Not something I can get here…anywhere…so that was most of the draw for this drink in particular. The last morning there, Cathy got the Iced Hazelnut Mocha and a Pineapple Cream Cheese Scone to enjoy for breakfast. I still say it today…back in Louisville, Kentucky…that I miss Ha Coffee Bar. It made that much of an impression.
Ha Coffee’s Salted Caramel Cafe Au Lait with Almond Milk, Iced Bee Sting, and Iced Liquid Sunshine
Skinny Mike’s Hawaiian Ice Cream, Lihue, Hawaii
I have KONG Radio to thank for the discovery of Skinny Mike’s. As we were driving the island of Kauai on Saturday, just enjoying beaches and the like…an advertisement for Skinny Mike’s Hawaiian Ice Cream came on. And it advertised ice cream, sorbets, and vegan ice cream. They had my attention, and the attention of both Jenn and Cathy too. I looked them up…and took note of where it was located. And we vowed to go there and check them out. At least once, yes?
And so, Saturday evening, after splitting a gluten-free pizza at a local chain…we headed over to Harbor Mall, where Skinny Mike’s is located. We parked and marched up the stairs to the little shop. Online I had taken a peak at the flavors, and sort of had my heart set on the Pineapple Cream. However…they didn’t have that flavor. So…I was left to look over the offered flavors while Jenn & Cathy made their choices. We each got regular scoops ($3.49) of our flavor choices. Cathy went with the Mint Chocolate Chip as it is one of her favorites…anywhere. Jenn won with their signature flavor…a local classic…Macadamia Nut. Hers was so good, we went back the last night there and each got a scoop of the Macademia Nut. That’s how good that was. For my first trip there, without the Pineapple flavor being available…I went with the suggestion of Coconut Cream. The Coconut Cream ice cream was the perfect level of coconut flavor. No bits of raw coconut…just the flavor infused in a creamy scoop of ice cream goodness. It was delicious. Smooth. And melted fast. Ah…coconut based things…I didn’t mind though. Not one bit. I eat frozen desserts rather quickly regardless. LOL! We were so impressed with the ice cream there that, as I said, we all went back to get the signature Macadamia Nut flavor on our last night on Kauai. Worth it. That was some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had. Just…delicious. I miss it. I want some more of the Macadamia Nut flavor…it’s a craving that hits now. Now that I know it exists…but can’t get it anywhere else…but there.
What happens when your favorite Hawaiian coffee stop on Kauai is closed on Sunday? You have to find a new place to get that caffeine hit. And this was what we were left to do on Sunday morning. Sunday. When I should have been running a marathon. When, instead, I was hobbling around Kapaa in search of coffee. The stop at the little food truck-like coffee place was…not going to work for everyone. No one was really happy with the menu options…so…we backtracked to a spot that Jenn spotted and had looked up online. It wasn’t far from the resort. It was a worthwhile stop in the end. And, in the end, we all ended up with a bit of breakfast with our coffee as well. How? Because this place had some gluten-free options on the menu and in the bakery case. SCORE! This meant we could have something a little more substantial at the start of the day, instead of the meager protein bars or yogurts back at the resort. It would mean eating better now and not making poor choices later. And so…Jenn got one of the bars from the bakery case…the Aloha Bar ($3.75), I think. For her caffeinated goodness that morning, she got the Iced Macanut Latte ($4.50). Cathy went for the Breakfast Burrito ($10.50), which includes eggs, roasted potatoes, caramelized onions, and cheddar cheese, which she got with the mango-chipotle salsa. For her drink, she got the Iced Hazelnut Mocha ($4.70). She at hers there at the café as she was the driver. As for me…they had gluten-free English muffins. HELLO! So I ended up getting the Gluten Free English Muffin with Cream Cheese ($3.95), which they kindly toasted for me…looks like in a pan…no cross-contamination. And for the drink, I got the Iced Macanut Latte ($4.50) with Almond Milk (+$0.75). Jenn and I had ours to go and I happily noshed away on a Glutino English Muffin with a light spread of cream cheese. The Macanut Latte…macadamia nut flavor…espresso…nutty goodness. And it was just the perfect drink that morning. It was supposed to be marathon morning…and I needed a distraction. This food, while simple and basic…was just what I needed. The drive along the coast helped too!
Java Kai’s Gluten Free English Muffin (with Cream Cheese) and Macanut Latte with Almond Milk
Hanalei Bay, Hanalei, Hawaii
We visited a lot of beaches while visiting Hawaii. I mean, that’s part of the point when you visit an island, right? But, I think, above all others, my favorite one we stopped at, and spent the most time at, was Hanalei Bay. This beach is stunning. A beautiful 2-mile long crescent of white sand, nestled beneath a breathtaking range of mountains. The water was relatively calm that day, with some small waves crashing against the shore. Despite my new friend…Bootsie…being on, we were determined to get away and enjoy the day. Anything to keep my mind off the fact that I should have been running. Hanalei Bay is a great beach for walking and body surfing. Calm waves, lifeguards, and a great coast line. I managed a few solo ventures along the waterline of the beach, just needing to at least move a little…minus the boot. I took it off for beach time. Strange tan lines were not on the agenda. I was very careful of where I stepped and the movement of the sand…and would pause if a wave came up and rolled over my legs…because that undertow could be a bit strong and throw me off balance. It was here that I realized my surf lessons the following day were not going to happen, as much as I wanted to give it a try. It was just not going to be physically possible for me to get up on a surf board. I was brokenhearted over this…but shrugged it off as no big deal. These were the cards I was dealt. Suck it up, cupcake…you’re in Hawaii!
Me and Bootsie at Hanalei Bay
After some walking and some laying on the beach…we got dressed and headed off for the next venture. Which tunred out to be a good thing. Heavy rains started soon after we had changed…and soon, Jenn and I realized just how sunburned we had gotten. I don’t think Jenn slapped on any sunscreen. I had…but the burn was in those places where clothes met skin or that strings were located. I was trying to avoid strange tan lines…and yet…that is what I ended up with in the end.
That being said…for a moment, I forgot about the ankle…and the boot…and I just enjoyed the perfect afternoon at the perfect beach.
JoJo’s Shave Ice, Hanalei, Hawaii
I have my good friend Harry Cooke to thank for the journey, while in Hanalei, to JoJo’s Shave Ice. He had mentioned it to me in a message on Facebook…and we were right there!! And with the rain pouring down now, it gave us a good excuse to not sit in a car and try to avoid the flooding roads. It gave us some time to hope the rain would pass and we could do more exploring. The rain didn’t pass. It was with us the rest of the time on the North Shore. However, after a bit of a short (hobbling, for me) spring from the rental car to the little storefront that the Hanalei JoJo’s Shave Ice operates out of…we knew we were in for a treat. The original JoJo’s began in Waimea in 1992, the same year that Hurricane Iniki landed on Kauai. That store is stil there today and still has the original JoJo’s sign. The goal of JoJo’s…to offer the ultimate in Shave Ice on Kauai…which is a true Hawaiian treat. When they expanded into Hanalei, they took the JoJo’s traditions and secret recipes along…and introduced the smaller “junior size,” which closely matches the normal serving size of other shave ice venues throughout Hawaii. JoJo’s doesn’t use commercially made syrups. They, instead, carefully make up their own syrups, with a lot less sugar and more flavor than the commercially used ones by other shave ice businesses. And…no corn syrups either. They also have upgraded all their locations with the best ice machines on Kauai, making for an unmatched, fluffy shave. LOVE. The three of us each got the Junior Sizes ($4.50). And they let you choose up to 4-5 flavors. I don’t remember what Jenn got…but it had cherry…and perhaps lime? I can’t recall. Cathy got Root Beer, Lemon and Grape Shave Ice. And I opted for two of my favorite flavors…Watermelon and Strawberry Shave Ice. Of course, now looking back, I wish I opted for something more…local…like mango or something. Next time. But the shave ice at JoJo’s was huge…filling…and amazingly packed with flavor. I can see why it’s been open for 23 years.
30 ounces of Watermelon and Strawberry flavored goodness from JoJo’s Shave Ice
Kalaheo Coffee Company & Café, Kalaheo, Hawaii
I know that technically Kalaheo Coffee Company & Café should have gotten a full review, as it was our place to catch a bite for lunch…on Monday afternoon. However, it was a hot day…and the humidity was really doing a number on me. And while there were a few options for a gluten-free vegetarian on the menu, what sounded really, really good was the Spinach and Kauai Greens Salad ($10.95). And the reason that this didn’t warrant a Restaurant Review post was…it was a salad I could have made at home. Honestly. But this was what I wanted. The Spinach and Kauai Greens Salad is a blend of fresh grown Kailani Farm greens, served with crisp spinach and topped off with strawberries and candied pecans. I kept the feta cheese and held the side of warm flat bread for obvious reasons. It came with a simple balsamic vinaigrette. And it was delicious. Light, but filling. And cooling. And just flat-out what I was really wanting that miserably humid day. But…it was a salad I could make…and therefore…it garners a mention here…but the restaurant itself is cozy and has a lot of great, fresh-made, delicious sandwiches, salads, soups, etc, to choose from. And I loved sitting in there, listening to runners who had run the day before discuss the marathon and half marathon…looking at the different food items coming out of the kitchen to each table. Beautiful setting, beautiful food…and tasty too. For the record, Cathy got the Hot Pastrami Sandwich, which contained grilled onions, mushrooms, and melted Swiss cheese on toasted bread. She got it with the much raved about Garlic Cilantro Fries…which after seeing her and Jenn devour…made me really wish I could have had those. Not safe though…not for me. Darn it.
Kalaheo Coffee Company & Café’s Spinach & Kauai Greens Salad
USS Arizona Memorial – Pearl Harbor, Honolulu, Hawaii
This was one ONE place that I had to visit while in Hawaii, and the main and primary reason we even island hopped over to O’ahu instead of just hanging tight on the beautiful island of Kauai. Honolulu is definitely a hopping city and much more urban…think LA and NYC. But this…this stop was…important. To all three of us. The USS Arizona Memorial is the number one visitor destination in Hawaii, drawing millions of people from all over the world to see where World War II began for the United States on December 7, 1941. Visitors are free to explore the grounds of the Pearl Harbor Visitor’s Center, which was recently expanded from the original 3 acres to 17 acres, and is now operated by the National Park Service. Admission and parking is free to all visitors. Over 2000 tickets are given out free per day on a first come, first serve basis. We had to check our bags before entering the historic site, so Jenn and I did that while Cathy went to get the tickets she reserved online for us. We were set for the final shuttle out, at 2:45 pm. It was the hottest day in Honolulu…and with all the metal and concrete, we were literally melting out in the sun while walking around the ground. We ducked into the museum, but it was even hotter in there. Bottles of water were purchased and Cathy and I downed ours before we were put on an earlier shuttle, the 2:30 pm, to head out to the memorial. A US Navy boat taxied us out to the USS Arizona Memorial, which is built over the remains of the sunken battleship, the final resting place of the 1,177 crewmen killed on December 7, 1941, when their ship was bombed by the Japanese Naval Forces. The memorial itself was relatively quiet upon disembarking and walking over to it. You can still see the oil leaking out of the actual ship that is buried beneath the waters of Pearl Harbor. It is moving and touching. And the memorial is beautiful and humbling. And I am so glad that we went.
USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor
Dole Plantation, Wahiawa, Hawaii
Two words…
DOLE WHIP.
DOLE FREAKIN’ WHIP!! That was the primary reason to venture out to the Dole Plantation in Wahaiwa. It was a bit of a journey…a long drive, but well worth it. The Dole Plantation originally operated as a fruit stand beginning in 1950, before opening up to the public as “Hawaii’s ‘Pineapple Experience'” in 1989. Another one of O’ahu’s most popular visitor attractions, the Dole Plantation provides activities for the entire family, including the Pineapple Express ($8.25/adult), the Plantation Garden Tour ($5.00/adult), and the Pineapple Garden Maze ($6.00/adult). None of which we did…due to the cost that was associated with each one and the warm, humid weather that made us want to stick to the air conditioning. What we did do, however, was shop at the HUGE gift shop, which carries a wide variety of Dole Plantation Gifts, local favorites, foods, and refreshments…including DOLE WHIP!! You can even purchase a fresh pineapple to take home. I wish I had. The pineapple in Hawaii is freakin’ incredible. I did some shopping, buying a few minor things like Dole Pineapple hard candy and a magnet. Easy to transport and all. And then, we went over to The Plantation Grille to purchase a bowl each of the world famous Dole Whip ($5.25). It was a large serving, which I loved, and devoured enthusiastically. Better than Disney, which is one of the few places Dole Whip is available. This was…amazing and I wish I had gone back for seconds. Dole Whip, by the way, is vegan and gluten free. LOVE!! It’s just pure frozen treat love.
Dole Whip from The Dole Plantation’s Plantation Grille
Panalu’u Beach Park and the Random Pineapple Roadside Stand, Hauula, Hawaii
Welcome to two of the most random stops we made on our trek around the North Shore of O’ahu. Panalu’u Beach Park is located on O’ahu’s windward coast and has this strip of narrow, sandy beach. The nearshore ocean bottom is shallow and has a reef, so swimming conditions here are poor. This was a clam day at this particular beach when we pulled over to check it out. Cathy went wading…and the water looked so refreshing (another humid and hot day!), that I took off Bootsie and kicked off my flip-flop to go wading in the surf myself. My friend Jenn snapped my favorite picture of me on this entire trip here…with the gorgeous blue water and the white sand on the beach. As I said on my Instagram…”Make only memories…Leave only footprints…Kill only time…”
Me on Punalu’u Beach Park (THIS IS MY FAVORITE PICTURE!)
From there, we went hunting for a shrimp place, Romey’s Kahuku Prawns and Shrimp, that the lady at Enterprise told Cathy about after we first arrived in Honolulu, when she mentioned we would be heading up to the North Shore. Along the way, I had been hunting for mangos and we found a stand that advertised them. We pulled into this dodgy little roadside stand, only to learn that they were out of mangos. The weather had ended the season early. I was bummed. BUT…we did purchase a fresh pineapple there, so we purchased one for $5.00, and watched as this little old lady had it peeled and sliced in less that 2 minutes…bagged…and ready for us to take away. We wasted no time, after climbing into the car, trying it out. So fresh…so juicy…so amazing. Hands down, the best pineapple I have eaten in my life. Anywhere. And I’ve had a lot of pineapple. We did find Romy’s…and Jenn and Cathy split a plate of the Garlic and Butter Shrimp. They ate that and I ate a good 2/3 (if not more) of the pineapple. They helped a little after they were done with their fresh seafood.
Best. Pineapple. Purchase. EVER!
BEST PINEAPPLE EVER from a random roadside stand along the North Shore of O’ahu! They peeled and chopped it right there!
Chief’s Luau, Waimanalo, Hawaii
Okay, again, this would generally get a blog of its own, despite not being a restaurant. I couldn’t go to Hawaii and not do a luau, even if it is one that is so tourist-y…it’s funny. We chose Chief’s Luau ($82.00+) due to the fact that it is the best ranked luau on O’auh AND that it had an allergen menu on their Web site. And, yeah, it’s tourist-y, but I actually had a lot of fun at the luau. I finally got a lei (made of shells as we had the cheapest package), had my picture taken with Chief…learned how to hula dance, watched Cathy throw a spear (rather poorly), watched Cathy make a coconut leaf headband (which she left behind), listened to great music, enjoyed the history of the dances that are native to Hawaii…and just…kicked back, laughed, and enjoyed my final night in Hawaii…with a Mai Tai and everything. Aside from the free drink…the luau package also included dinner…and as a gluten-free vegetarian, this left only a few things for me to pick from. Cathy was there for the meat…the pork…cooked in the ground with banana leaves…but for someone like me…I got the food that was catered in. And that’s fine…but because it was catered, I didn’t review it. I was left with the Seasonal Fruit Salad (more pineapple!), the Poi (GROSS…it looked like Barney’s (the purple dinosaur) snot…kind of gelatinous and goopy and YUCK. I didn’t want to try it, but peer pressure had me at least take a taste. NEVER AGAIN!), the Steamed White Rice and (my personal favorite) the Sweet Potatoes. My first plate of food was not really full, and as this was all you can eat, I ventured back for more of the DELICIOUS sweet potatoes and the fruit. Because…fruit and sweet potatoes are actually two of my favorite foods in life. For real. The Mai Tai’s were delicious…and I had a great time at the luau. If you are in O’ahu and want to go to a luau…go to Chief’s. They are #1 for a reason!
Seasonal Fruit Salad, Poi (GROSS!), White Steamed Rice, and Sweet Potatoes – my gluten free and vegetarian dinner at Chief’s Luau
Barista, Portland, Oregon
The flight we took back to the mainland went through Portland, where we disembarked and stayed an entire day, so we could explore. Cathy and Jenn had Voodoo Doughnuts for breakfast. We hit up the food pods for lunch, we did a gastropub for dinner. But after the stop for doughnuts, it was vital that we got caffeine. And I chose Barista, out of all the different coffee shops in Portland. I chose wisely…of this I am certain. Being a former barista, myself, I not only liked the name, I liked everything I read about them. Barista was established by coffee legend, Billy Wilson, who now has four (4) Barista cafés open in the Portland area. Let me tell you, this cofee delivers!! Barista is one of the first multi-roaster shops in the Portland area, showcasing Heart, Coava, and another roaster on bar for espresso or drip. Barista is known for serving exceptional coffees from the world’s finest roasters, prepared by the most skilled baristas in the Portland area. No joke. Jenn skipped out on this amazing experience, but both Cathy and I partook of the opportunity to try the coffee at the Downtown Barista location. Cathy ordered the Semi-Sweet Valrohna Mocha ($4.50). I went for the Bittersweet Valrohna Mocha ($4.50) with Almond Milk (+$0.75). It was delicious. Strong…but smooth. There was this perfect balance of chocolate and espresso that just…melted together. The milk softened up the bite of the espresso itself, cutting through the dark chocolate. OH MY GOD…one of the best coffees I have ever had. If you are in Portland and love coffee…you are missing out if you don’t swing by one of the Barista locations. For real. I loved every sip. Even better…finally a coffeeshop that gives me an 8 ounce cup of coffee for a small!! THANK YOU!
Barista’s Bittersweet Valrohna Mocha with Almond Milk
And that was it. It was Portland to Vegas to Louisville from there. And my 10 day vacation came to an end. Back in Louisville, it’s hard for me to ignore Bootsie. It’s a depressing reminder of everything I’ve had to cancel for the upcoming weeks leading into November. I tried not to fuss much over it on the trip. And, I ate whatever I wanted…whenever I wanted…as long as it fit into my dietary restrictions. And despite limited mobility and really lack of much movement at all…while continuing to stuff my face with local eats…I lost 3 pounds. I’ve put it back on since coming home though…so no worries. LOL!
It was a beautiful trip to paradise…and I’m already dreaming about my return. Next time…to actually run the Kauai Marathon!!
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…
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.
The Celiathlete 