Saturday, February 25, 2017

LR2B: A No Good, Very Bad Long Run

I am a little more than half way there. Today I ran 18 miles, making week 8 my first week of training during which I broke the 30 mile barrier.

Today also sucked. Hard core sucked.

Up until this morning, I have been on the upswing with each week leaving me feeling more like myself. I'm not quite where I was last spring, which was what I would call the peak of my fitness to date. But I have been getting close to it.

There were a few things that came together to make this morning miserable. One: a pretty challenging route that included the Nickel Bridge and the steep uphill on the other side of it, as well as the hilly section of Riverside Drive (hills that I used to chew up and spit out, by the way) and the long slow include up 2nd Street. Not as bad as 5th Street or even 9th, but Belvidere would've been better.

Two: the weather. 59 degrees at the start and full sun. In February. What the hell. During the summer, this would have been a fantastic cool weather run. In the middle of "winter," it is a terrible hot run.

Last night I was having a complete crisis in confidence and was full on dreading the run. It is never a good feeling to show up to your training run wishing it was over before it even starts. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, things started out ok. For the first 10 miles - the hilliest part - I hung with Lauren and we averaged something around an 8:00/mile pace. This is, of course, faster than I need to be running on long runs and I full well know it. But I just can't help myself. It's so difficult for me to run slower than I naturally want to, even when I know that doing so will only result in pain and suffering later on.

Around mile 10, after we had made the seemingly endless run up 2nd Street, I knew I was toast and that the next 8 miles were not going to be pretty.  Thankfully they were blessedly flat; if they had been anything other than flat I may not have made it back. The temperature was rising, the sun was beating down on us. Lauren and Eric, who we had picked up along the way, got ahead of me at Floyd and I let them go; I had to make a quick bathroom break (thanks, Robinson & Stuart Starbucks), which hardly ever happens to me; and when I got to the mile 12 SAG I took my good old time standing there and eating my whole Gu and drinking a few cups of water. I probably stood there for 5 minutes, trying to work myself up to get moving again.

But as I often say, when you're out there, the only way to get back is to keep running. So I did. Slowly. My pace dropped to barely keeping a 9:00. I stopped at GAWS and there were no cups left, so I put my face under the spout of the cooler and poured the water directly into my mouth. I took a wrong turn (nooooooooooo) and thought I missed the last SAG at 16. I was about to just stop and yell "Paaaaammmmm where arrrrreeeee you?????" when I caught a glimpse of the blessed big blue and orange coolers off to my left and made my way ever so slowly to them.

Three other runners from the group were also at the SAG. We exchanged whining about the terrible weather; two moved on and the third offered to run back with me. Thank goodness too; chatting with Mike about his experiences in Boston and trying to keep up with him is what got me to the end. I haven't been so glad to see the end of a run in a long while.

I found a shady spot of concrete back at the parking lot and sat down for a minute partially because it felt cool and partially because I did not want to move another step. I took the opportunity to capture my true feelings about this run.

I was so tired I don't even care that I was on the dirty ground.

That is exhaustion, folks.

The aftermath has not been pretty either. I'm hobbling around the house, my legs hurt and my feet hurt terribly. I used to run 18 miles and feel perfectly fine. Well, maybe not perfectly fine, but pretty decent. After a much-needed shower and replenishing my salt levels with some french fries, I slept on the couch for almost two hours. I'm still feeling pretty groggy and working tonight should be interesting.

In the back of my mind, I am trying to remember how much I missed this. How much time I spent crying last summer because I wasn't doing this. And to remind myself that one crappy run doesn't mean much - crappy runs happen. I have five more weeks of real training before my taper to get my act together and truly be ready to run 26.2 again. Here's to hoping next week is not so warm.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

LR2B The Official Plan

A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through my Facebook Newsfeed and saw a post from the Wrightsville Beach Marathon - "16 weeks to race day!" and it struck me that if there were only 16 weeks to Wrightsville, there were only 20 to Boston.

And that meant that I needed to get my butt in gear by a) starting to actually run again; and b) getting a training plan put together.

I knew I'd be running again with the Winter Marathon Training Team (WMTT/formerly Spring Marathon Training Team), the same group that I've trained with for the past three winters. So, I pulled up last year's training plan and used it as a reference as I created one of my patented Frankenstein marathon training plans.

I have no delusions of running hard in Boston. I just want to run the whole thing and hopefully finish in under 4 hours. Starting from zero and having just 16 weeks to get myself back to marathon is incredibly daunting... especially when you are still running scared like I am and not 100% pain free.

With this in mind, I've created the most baby steps beginner plan ever. As I have in the past, I am running only three times per week. I will not, however, be using the Run Last Run Faster formula of speed work/tempo/marathon pace long runs. They will all just be steady runs with the only goal being completion. During previous cycles, I've been mindful of not increasing mileage too quickly, but I haven't paid super close attention to the % increase in mileage week to week. This time I was very careful to try to keep it near the prescribed 10%. This was challenging, given that I am starting in such a sorry state in terms of mileage per week.

The team will run three 20-milers; I am doing just one. I'm keeping my Wednesday run to half the distance of the long, and Monday (formerly speed work day) will be a 4-5 miles, for the most part.

On non-running days, I'll be sticking with spin class, cycling outdoors (weather permitting), perhaps swimming, strength training, and at long last, a return to yoga. I'm allowing one day completely off per week - Friday.

Here's what it looks like (click to enlarge):

All in all, I will run just 376 miles during the 15 week training cycle. It seems insane, I know. But the truly crazy thing is, that is all that I ran last spring on my way to the BQ at Wrightsville. That gives me some level of comfort... until I remember that last winter I was at my running peak - completing 20 milers with a 7:50 average and running 6:20 miles during speed work sessions.

Needless to say, I'm a far cry from that now. 376 miles seems woefully inadequate but to be frank, I have messed around with this plan as much as I could and I just can't add anything in without the mileage increase being too much. I just have to have faith that my huge base hasn't completely eroded during my time out and my fitness level will be good enough to get me not only to the start, but the finish of the marathon on less than 400 miles of training.

I spent the month of December trying to build a base so that I would feel comfortable joining the Boston team for my first long run (10 miles) on January 7. The first week I ran 13 miles, then 14, then 15, then 17. My pacing has been for the most part around an 8:05-8:15/mile average. I don't strive for anything in particular, I just do what feels most comfortable and natural.

I miss running fast.

I had decided my test to see if I was ready to join the team would be an 8 miler - this was the distance for the first official Boston team run scheduled for 12/31, which I would miss because of travel.

8 miles sounds like nothing, but I hadn't run that far since the beginning of June. On Friday, December 23, I ran 8 miles at an 8:10 overall pace, giving me the boost of confidence I needed to feel ready to start with the team in January.

There you have it. Onward...

Sunday, November 6, 2016

LR2B - Warm Up Part 2

As is expected, I got behind already. Shocking, right?

Here's pretty much what you need to know about the past three weeks.

1. This is what my running life looks like.

You get the point.

I've progressively gotten a bit further on each 30 minute run I've done. First, I broke the 3 miles in 30 minutes barrier on October 19th. I felt fine afterwards, so pushed a bit further the next time by adding in a few 2:1 segments near the middle to end of my session. With no resistance from Gertrude, I decided to go for an all 2:1 on Monday the 24th. I dropped a 9:00/mile average that day and felt great. So great, in fact, that I renewed my membership to the Richmond Road Runners Club and signed up for the annual 10k Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving.

Then came Wednesday the 26th. I was overly confident and had a goal of running a half mile segment. Which I did - twice. But it hurt the whole time and then I paid for it big time for the rest of the day and throughout Thursday. This all devolved into a full on meltdown by Thursday night. I decided to be cautious and not run on Friday, so during week 3 I ran only twice.

I returned to the track on Halloween. I refuse to back down, so I did the same workout that I had done before - a 2:1 with two half-mile segments thrown in the middle. I executed them perfectly too, finishing both in 3 minutes, 50 seconds. On Wednesday the 2nd, I upped the ante a bit, first throwing down a half mile at a 7:40/mile pace. I walked one minute and then did 3/4 mile - the longest I've run in months - again at a 7:40/mile pace. The longer I went, the less Gertrude hurt and the more everything else hurt. Not sure what that means, other than I'm in terrible, terrible shape.

Then on Friday, November 1, I did this:

What? You can't tell the difference (other than the part where I forgot to stop the Garmin when I was finished and left it on until I got to my car and realized it)? Well, I guess I'll forgive you for not noticing that I ran AN ENTIRE MILE NON STOP during this workout, at a pace of 7:26 by the way. Then I walked for 2 minutes before doing a half mile at a 7:24 pace. My overall was a 9:00 average - the quickest I've been.

Did I pay for it later? Yep. My calf and foot hurt for the rest of the day, probably a pain level 4 to 5. But the way I see it, I just have to keep moving forward.

2. At least I don't cycle in circles (for the most part)

It's no secret that I am a terrified and reluctant cyclist, but it's all I have when it comes to a long, hard workout these days. Much to my dismay, Kit is also broken now so we are both banished to bikes. On Sunday the 22nd, we met near Berkley Plantation went 20 miles east on the Virginia Capital Trail to the Chickahominy River, cover territory that at least I hadn't yet ridden, then back again.

 Having learned my lesson about cycling-induced hunger, we brought PLENTY of food this time and stopped on the bridge to enjoy the view and feast.

But there is still more to be learned about cycling and that day's lesson came in the form of numb feet.  It was in the lower 40s when we set out that morning and within about 30 minutes, both of my feet were completely numb. They didn't wake up again until a good 60 minutes after we were finished. Not a good feeling. In my silly runner brain, for some reason I thought that cycling shoes aren't as breathable and well-vented as running shoes... and therefore would be warmer. 

This is not the case at all. 

As it turns out, the solution to preventing feet that are numb from cold is buying toe covers. (SURPRISE, yet something else I have to buy to cycle comfortably.)

Unfortunately for me, I did not have time to go buy toe covers in between Sunday and our next long ride on Saturday the 28th. For the time being I opted for thicker socks and hoped for the best. 

Though we may not be going in circles, there are just a few cycling routes that Kit and I know well and feel completely comfortable on: to Ashland and back, West Creek and the surrounding area, and the Capital Trail. We've been riding a lot since I got hurt (and more now), so they are quickly getting boring. So we decided to drive out to the Chickahominy Park, where we turned around the week before, and start there then ride the end of the Capital Trail to Jamestown, where we picked up the Colonial Parkway.


I had no idea this thing existed but am very happy that Kit introduced it to me. It's a three lane wide composite parkway with a low speed limit that goes from Jamestown through Williamsburg to Yorktown. It's very scenic and for the most part, pretty quiet. I like that because it means I feel less like I'm going to die (always a plus). 

(Not my photos)

The Capital Trail portion was about 7 miles and then we just went on the Colonial Parkway until we hit 20 miles. We stopped at a pull off near a pond called Jones Mill Pond and ate some snacks before heading back. 

Kit had sworn up and down we'd get a tail wind on the way back but nope... per our usual luck, it was more like a crosswind. I had also not realized how exhausting it is to bump along on an uneven surface like composite for 27 miles. By the time we got to Jamestown, I was dying for the smooth pavement of the Capital Trail and when we hit it, it was like heaven. 

I never knew I could feel so much euphoric relief thanks to a piece of pavement.

Then came the even better part - when we got back to the car, Kit pulls out a surprise snack of Amy's Everything Bagel Chips. I can't even tell you how amazingly delicious and satisfying they were after 40 miles in the saddle (I hate that phrase ... for real).

I said to him, in between mouthfuls of bagel chips, "Man, Kit, people who don't push their bodies to go do something hard at least once a week just don't know what they're missing." 

A good hard workout heightens every sense and does truly make everything better. Even pavement and bagel chips.

On that note, this sign was on the napkin dispenser at the Urban Farmhouse that we stopped to share a coffee in on the way home...

It's the thought that counts?
(Listen, can someone explain to me why my text keeps turning blue mid-post for no reason and I can't fix it? ::headdesk::)

For the next weekend, Kit wanted to try something new. I was anxious about not sticking to a bike trail or otherwise bike friendly route. Have I mentioned I'm pretty much terrified of riding on real roads? Cause I am. After much back and forth, he finally convinced me to try out a route starting and ending at Hanover County Courthouse.

I'm not going to lie; I was extremely nervous about it but in the end I'm very glad I got over my fear and went for it. Most of the time we were on back country roads with no markings that were so quiet that it was easy to forget that they were actual roads and not bike trails. There were a few very intense hills that really tested my legs too. When we finished I felt like I really had done something significant. So much so that I actually felt like I earned a burger.

I still don't really like cycling but I can't deny that I am slowly but surely getting better and stronger each week. To give perspective, the Hanover ride was definitely the hilliest but I still managed to make it my fastest pace too.

In addition to the long weekend rides, I've been going absolutely nowhere on the bike by attending spinning class at least once a week. Generally that goes something like this: I arrive just in time for 6 am start, feeling disoriented and grouchy because I'm running late and my foot inevitably hurts. And also because I'm about to pedal in place for 45 minutes. The first 10-15 minutes of class absolutely suck, I feel like every pedal stroke is way too much effort and whenever Becca tells us to add gears I hope that my inward groan doesn't show on my face. About 20-25 minutes in I find my rhythm and hopefully some strength and take on the rest with a fierce determination, watching every minute tick by like an eternity.
3. Most days, despair still outweighs hope.

There have been bright spots, but it's amazing how quickly and easily my fragile sense of hope can be completely dashed by any number of things. A simple and well-meaning conversation or text; a day of pain; seeing the race pictures of friends who completed the Marine Corps Marathon; driving on my favorite fall running routes and knowing I'm going to miss out on them this year; doing endless laps in the pool at deep water running and wondering if this is as close I'm going to get to running ever again; stepping out of the house into a cool crisp morning and feeling nothing but a sense of loss.

I know full well that positive thinking will go a long way... but knowing this fact and being able to act on it are completely different things. By nature, I am not an optimistic person. Fighting to stay positive is completely exhausting for me. It's hard to fight every day to not feel sorry for myself, to not let dark thoughts and what ifs consume me; to see that positive side of things, like at least I'm not in a boot anymore or on crutches. At least I am "running" three times a week.

I'm tired of the "at least" too. "At least" is not enough for me, but there seems to be little I can do about it.

For the past few months, I've tallied up many of the things that I've lost when I lost my ability to run. But this week another thing dawned on me: this injury has taken away from me the one thing that I was really good at. I'm decent at a lot of things but for a beautiful two years, I was really good at running - and I was good at it because of me. Not because somebody else decided I was good at it, or made a decision that resulted in me being good at it, or by accident. This loss is really affecting me.

On Friday, November 4, I had my final post-op check in with the surgeon. It did not go well. Seven weeks later, there is still way more inflammation than he would like to see. When I ask him what I can do about it, he basically shrugs and says he is sorry but he doesn't really know but that there is still a little bit of hope because he has had patients who have improved at 10 weeks or even 12 weeks.

Sorry? That's all he has to tell me? That he's sorry?

I left incredibly frustrated and on the verge of tears. The feeling of defeat was intense and is still hanging around. I cried a lot when I got home that night; I cried the next morning when I met Kit for our long bike ride, and I cried today when Marcey gave me a patented Big Marcey Hug™.

I'm really tired of crying.

Really, I'm just tired of fighting so hard. There are days when I want to give up on this. But they pass and somehow I pick myself up again and keep going.


Running: 11 workouts, 30 minutes each, various walk/run intervals. Longest interval was 1 mile. Moved from a 10:04 minute average per mile to a 9:00 average.

Cycling: 160 miles covered (Ashland, Capital Trail, Colonial Parkway, Hanover/King William/Caroline County) outdoors; 5 spin classes

Deep Water Running: 3 - 45 minute sessions

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Having a Moment

I've been having a rough week. It's been stressful at work, I have been having crazy nightmares so my sleep hasn't been good, and after-work hours have been chock full of obligations and activity too.

To top it off, Gertrude is complaining at me very loudly. After success last week, I decided to increase to a 2:1 run/walk interval. Monday went great. That evening, no pain. I was thrilled with this development and for the first time, started to really think that maybe I'm moving forward and truly putting this whole nightmare behind me.

On Tuesday, I made a poor footwear decision and by the evening I was paying for it. I didn't panic yet, chalking it up to the bad shoes and nothing more.

Yesterday morning, my goal was to run a continuous half mile. When I got out of bed, I was in pain. When I got to the track I was filled with trepidation but went ahead. I completed my 30 minutes, including two half-mile segments accompanied by a dull underlying pain at the same level of what I experienced on my first run/walk sessions during week 1.  As the rest of the day wore on, it hurt more and more. By the time I got home around 7:30pm, I was in a very foul mood in large part because of the pain.

While I was sitting on the couch with an ice pack ace-bandaged to Gertrude to try to shut up her wailing, I surfed Facebook to kill time and came across the story of ultra runner Dave Mackey, whose leg was crushed during an accident on the trail. He has gone through 13 surgeries, none of them particularly successful, and is reduced to hobbling with a cane. Basically, he can't take it anymore and has decided to have the leg amputated to be free of the pain and says he looks forward to a return to running (and life) with help of a prosthesis. I immediately felt a kinship with him and cheered his brave decision.

Of course I know that my situation is nowhere near as dire as Mackey's, but there have been numerous times over the past months where I have said that I'd rather just cut this offending off and get a prosthesis. Everyone of course thinks that sounds absolutely crazy and many probably think Mackey is crazy too - but I get it. After only 6 months of dealing with my issue, I am ready to be done with it. I am MORE than ready. I already feel like it will never end.

I wonder if I will ever be able to wake up in the morning and not dread getting out of bed because I know how much those first steps are going to hurt - reminding me that I am broken and feeble where I was once strong and unstoppable.

Will I ever not have to pick my work footwear according to which pair of comfort shoes will look the least ridiculous with the rest of my outfit? Will there come a day when I can walk past the shoe section of a department store and actually be able to try on the pretty and fun shoes that I used to love so much? I'm only 33 years old - much too young to be sentenced to the comfort shoes that I detest - that make me feel frumpy, short, and dull.

Will I ever be able to plan a recreational activity without having to wonder if there will be too much standing involved or too much walking and if there is, whether or not there will be seating so that I can rest? Or if there will be too much sitting which will result in awkward and painful steps when I go to leave?

Or NOT be the person bringing up the rear of the group - the one who everyone else is waiting for?

This morning my alarm went off at 5:15am and I lay in bed, pointing and flexing my toes and stretching my calf even though I knew it would be of little use. I steeled myself and put my feet into my shoes then hobbled painfully through the process of getting ready for spin class. Before surgery, my foot never hurt like this in the morning. All of my pessimistic thoughts from the night before hit me full force and then some, leading inevitably to the question of what I'm supposed to do in April.

"This is just ridiculous, there is no way it's going to happen. You can't even run a half mile without suffering. There is no way you're going to run 26.2 miles in six months. What are you doing? You're done. Hang it up."

I can't stop these thoughts. 

This morning was Becca's spin class. I love Becca because she yells at us (in an encouraging way of course) to keep us motivated. She reminds us to ask ourselves why we came. Why are we here? What's your goal? Where do you wanna be?

For nearly 2 years, the answer to that question has been Boston - that I'm using spin to get stronger and faster. Before I qualified, it was to get that BQ. After I qualified and didn't get in, the answer was to give the BAA a big old middle finger by beating my BQ by 5 minutes. During my down time, it's been to fight to retain some shadow of my former running self, using whatever I can to maintain fitness that would hopefully translate back into running.

This morning, I told myself that it is still Boston, mainly because I am trying desperately to convince myself it's possible and not just a crazy pipe dream. That I won't forever be in pain. That this wasn't a huge mistake and that I'm done.

And who am I kidding... the other reason I was in spin was because I wanted an Old Bay Cheddar Biscuit from Early Bird Biscuit Co this morning and needed to feel like I earned it.

Boston and biscuits.

I'd like to say that my spin class -in which I really kicked some butt, I must say - and biscuit made me feel more like I will run Boston in April. But sadly, it didn't. As soon as I get up from this chair, I will quickly be smacked back down to the reality that yes, while I have a Confirmation of Acceptance postcard with a return address of Hopkinton, MA, I am no Boston Marathoner at this moment.

And at this point, I don't know if I ever will be.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016


Yesterday I logged into my Garmin Connect account for the first time in months. I was poking around in my history trying to remember what I ran last year on Thanksgiving (of course I hadn't been keeping faithful to the blog at this point and if I had been, I would've been able to figure it out in a matter of seconds) and fell down a black hole of reliving past runs and races. Then I came across the PR section of my profile.

When I look at those numbers now, they feel like a lifetime ago - or that they must belong to a different person. On April 24 during the Carytown 10k, I ran my fastest 5k at 21:36, a pace of 6:57/mile.

Fast forward to this morning. I found myself solo at the track for another stimulating 30 minutes of run/walk intervals. My goal for these has nothing to do with pace or distance; the focus is to try to run as normally as possible without favoring or adjusting my gait to accommodate my foot*. To quote the great Han Solo, I just try to

I wear my Garmin during these workouts only to keep track of elapsed time and intervals. Today when the two mile indicator chirped, I looked down and realized that I had just hit the 20 minute mark. Thus far, I haven't been anywhere near that pace and decided that I would challenge myself to fit in another mile before my 30 minutes were up. Then, I did it.

Being extremely excited about breaking the 10 min/mile barrier is not something that I anticipated for myself. Six months ago, this would have represented a catastrophic run. But today it was a huge achievement.

This is one of the tiny positive things about side-lining injuries - when you finally get to come back, all of your goals must be recalibrated and things that once felt routine become accomplishments. 

I used to joke that I wouldn't even get out of bed for less than 5 miles and that I wouldn't use the qualifier "long" on any run unless it was 17 miles or more. A seven mile tempo run was child's play and any pace over 8:30 may as well have been walking. A week logging less than 20 miles was a week wasted. Basically, I had to work really really hard to impress myself.

This isn't to say I'm belittling any of those things; it is simply a reflection of where I was as runner and what my personal standards were at the time that I consider my peak fitness to date.

Honestly, it's kind of nice to be thrilled by 3 miles of run/walking. 


For those who've expressed concern or told me to be careful, I appreciate it. Let me reassure you that there are few people who are as cautious as I am when it comes to recovery. I have not gone through all of this just to turn around and ruin it all by being foolish at this point. There is far too much at stake.

Right now, I am five weeks post op and am well within the prescribed time frame for a return to normal activity (based on my specific procedure). I am not pain free but each time I run/walk, Gertrude hurts less both during and after. This is a good sign.

BFF Steve has told me that when I do my run intervals, I need to do what feels comfortable and that the biggest enemy/danger to recovery is not in my pace but the amount of time on my feet and total mileage. Ramping up mileage too fast is what most often causes relapse. During my 30 minute interludes, my run/walk ratio is increasing but I'm really not going much further than 2 miles of total running each session.

For me, being comfortable means running at my normal pace... my normal pace being something that starts with a 7:xx over short distances. Kit recently observed that I apparently have only have two speeds: fast and boot. He's pretty much right. If I try to adjust to run slower than what I am used to, I become hyper-aware of everything and think far too much. My gait suffers and I compensate; things become unnatural, awkward, and yes - painful. If I relax and let my legs do what they know how to, things are great.

I'm just going to keep doing that until they aren't. 

*I'm so tired of writing "my foot" that I've decided to refer to it as Gertrude from here on out.

**I know half this entry is blue. I've tried to fix it but Blogger is being stubborn and I don't have the time or patience to figure it out.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

The Long Road: Zero to Boston 2017 - Warm Up 1b

[Note: these are lengthy and boring. These are also mainly for me so that hopefully in 6 months, when I'm sitting in a hotel room in Boston on April 16 freaking out, I will be able to remind myself how far I've come.]

Monday evening - I got home, iced, stretched, donned my compression sock, and rolled my foot/calf. A lot. I even wore my night splint to bed. Yes, I admit that my foot and calf progressively hurt more as the day wore on. It did not hurt more than it ever has previously and let's be real - I haven't run in 5 months and just got off doing next to nothing for 4 weeks. This is not going to feel good and stuff is going to hurt.

Tuesday - Woke up, stuff hurt. It was really chilly outside in the morning, which made me want to go to deep water running class even less, but I did it anyway. It's really strange but for some reason my calf is always more achy after I do that class, which makes pretty much zero sense. Anyway, at class the instructor thanked me for working hard (not sure what he was insinuating) and my reply was, "I don't have much choice and besides, I don't get out of bed at 5:15 am to come get in this pool and do this for fun!"

While we were "warming up," I chatted with two other injured runners banished to the pool. One has recently been diagnosed with a stress fracture in her hip and I told her it's GOOD that it's a fracture and not soft tissue. Be GLAD that's what it is because you've got a finite time line as to when bones heal. It sucks now, but in 4-6 weeks, it will be healed and you'll be back on your feet. Her goal is to try to BQ in the spring. I told her she definitely can. I wish I was as confident in my own recovery.

I had planned to go to yoga that night  but as the day wore on my foot and calf bothered me more and more. It had turned into a gorgeous day so I asked Kit if he'd rather meet me for a walk after work down on Belle Isle or the Canal Walk instead. I had noticed that everything hurt the most for the first few steps that I took and thought that maybe a nice walk would help things loosen up more. Plus, there was no way I was going to be able to do any balance poses on my left foot.

It wasn't too hard to convince him, so we met at Tredegar and set off toward the pipeline. As predicted, things started to feel better. I haven't been on the pipeline in months and months - I honestly can't remember the last time. Of course when we got onto it, all I could think was that I wished I was running it and not walking it. That led to a whole bunch of "what ifs"...

What if Wrightsville was my last marathon?
What if I never run Richmond again?
Or have a snow run?
Or one of those runs when it feel so awesome that you just keep going and going?
What if from now on, I will always only be watching other people run?
What if it is over?

And that's when I started crying - a big old ugly cry too. It had been a good month since my last ugly cry, so it was due. I felt terrible, because my intention for going on a walk was for it to be an enjoyable and relaxing thing and not including me sitting on the pipeline sobbing like a child.

What ifs are terrible things. I try not to dwell in the realm of what ifs, but it has been impossible lately. What if I had just taken off for 2 weeks back in May? What if I had just gotten the cortisone shot instead of the Tenex? What if I didn't run that half in Chicago? Or had transitioned to lower drop shoes back in the spring when I said I would?

Past what ifs are bad because obviously those are all decisions that have been made and nothing can be done to change them. I made the choices that I did, I am in this place now, and there's nothing to do about it but keep going forward.

The worst thing about them, though, is that if you spend a lot of time wondering what you could have done differently, it makes you paralyzed to make decisions in the here and now. What if I wait another two weeks to start running? What if I hurt myself again? What if I just stop every time it hurts? Where will it lead me? Which is the right choice?

I'll never know the answer to any of the what ifs that I face - and neither will you. That's life. We can all only try to make the best choices we can, learn from them, and live with them.

Wednesday - By some miracle, on Wednesday my foot felt 100 times better than it had on Tuesday. (Side note, I'm already really sick of writing "my foot.") After work, I met up with Marcey and Kit at Runner's Purgatory the vita course for another stimulating 30 minute session of 1 minute running/1 minute walking. I am so out of the habit of running that I had neglected to pack a sports bra in my change of clothes and had to first go home and get one before meeting up at the vita course.

I felt creaky during this outing, but also determined. During the last lap around the ~1 mile course, I let loose a bit. I stopped thinking, shortened my stride, relaxed, and just went. I pulled ahead and remembered what it feels like to run fast. 

When you run fast, something happens in your brain. More accurately, what happens is that your brain turns off. You stop thinking and just go. During my 4 or so minutes of running fast (and yes, I admit it was truly fast - the first number of my pace was a 7), I stopped concentrating so hard on how I was landing with that left foot (was I favoring it? was I not? was I overcompensating?) and like magic, it felt fine.

Or maybe I just too busy being disgusted with my loss of cardiovascular fitness and didn't notice the aches anymore.

Thursday - Things flared up post-run and I felt it in the morning when I dragged myself out of bed to go to spin class. We had a substitute instructor for spin who literally had just happened to be walking through the Y and plucked from her normal routine to fill in last minute. She didn't have a plan and winged the class. It was good, but it seems that her default was hill and hill after hill. My quads were very tired. Not sure if that impacted how my leg and foot felt for the rest of the day or not. They were both sore, but not as achy as they had been on Tuesday so I'm going to count that as net positive.

Friday - New and improved strength routine in the morning with Kit. We've been doing this set of ten moves for a few months now with a few additions including a variety of planks, leg lifts, and tricep work. Now we've added in clam shells and wall sits and eliminated the scorpion for the time being. Before Erie and my surgery, we had really made a lot of progress in all of these exercises but lost a lot of ground during about 3 weeks of down time. This was the third session back and it finally started to feel a little bit easier.

I got off work a bit early and it was just a glorious day, so we met up after work at Tredegar and this time did the Belle Isle loop for the 30 minutes of one on, one off. It didn't feel great this time, but I was very thankful to be out and running (as it were) after work, on a beautiful fall afternoon. When I do these work outs, I always use my Garmin for all of the intervals to make sure I'm sticking to the correct timing. This time, Kit only cut his on when we were doing the running intervals. At the end, he informed me that I had run a total of 2 miles at an 8:18 average. I was SO HAPPY.

2 miles.

Saturday  - NADA! Unless you count moving your fork to your mouth as a work out. If that's the case, I did plenty of that.

Sunday - It has been 5 weeks since I went on a good long bike ride; since I've really felt that I pushed myself hard and long during a work out. Today was the day for that, at long last. The morning was chilly and the sun isn't coming up until 7 these days, so that's when I met Kit for the 40 mile round trip to Ashland.

Within the first 5 miles, I felt tired. This isn't completely unusual for me. No matter what I'm doing, I often have a slump during the 20-30 minute mark and then revive. Despite being tired, I couldn't help but love taking in the scenery around us. The city had been clear but as we got further out on less well-traveled country roads, a thick fog appeared. It was beautiful to ride through the quiet country side and watch the mist settling on the fields. My helmet collected a bunch of condensation, as did my shoes and Astrid too.

The way up to Ashland had many rolling hills. NOT being a cyclist, I'm terrible at pacing and powered my way up them like a mad woman. When we were about 5 miles out, I looked down as we sped along a flat and saw that we were going 21.7 miles per hour. That's pretty darn fast for me. And it felt good. We passed some abandoned farm houses, still shrouded in mist. A field of low plants (I am not a country girl and have no idea what they were) was dotted with perfect spider webs that were easy to see thanks to the water hanging on them. It was so terribly autumnal that it almost felt like a movie.

We stopped briefly at Ashland Coffee & Tea for a drink before setting off again, back toward Richmond. My legs were very heavy and very tired; I'd spent all of my energy on my mad dashes earlier. Kit was tired too, lagging behind me which is strange. He is always faster than me on the bike. I refused to give in though. "We don't have time to be tired, Kit!" I yelled over my shoulder and continued on. I make it sound like I was flying, but in reality it was around 14-15 MPH with some 17s thrown in once in a while.

About 10 miles out, I started to get hungry. REALLY hungry. It has been a very long time since I worked out to the point that I worked up a good appetite. All I could think about was how hungry I was and how much longer it would be until I could eat. By the time we got to Richmond, I was downright delirious with hunger. We planned on going for breakfast, but I didn't know if I could hold out that long. I asked Kit if he had anything that he could feed me RIGHT AWAY in his apartment. I said I was so hungry that if someone gave me a banana at that moment, I would eat it. Thank goodness he had just bought a whole bunch of trail mix and nuts. We got off our bikes and went straight up and I pretty much ripped into the contained of mixed nuts like a starving person and devoured a mozzarella stick too.

I can't remember the last time I was that hungry. I think it may have been a year ago at the Richmond marathon, where all I could think about for the first 13 miles was how delicious my salted caramel gu would be once I allowed myself to eat it at the half way point (significant because I hate Gu and normally eat them very begrudgingly) and then for the second half, nothing but the finish festival pizza filled my mind. I ended up eating four pieces.

Despite the desperate hunger and tough ride back, it felt really really good to go for a long hard ride. For the first time in forever I got a great dose of exercise induced endorphins. It was fantastic.

As for my foot, it hurt a lot yesterday (Saturday) until about 7pm when for no apparent reason, it suddenly felt better. Today it has continued that trend, even post-ride.

Week 1 Summary
3 runs, 30 minutes each of 1 min run/1 min walk intervals
1 aqua jog session
1 strength session
1 long ride

Foot Status: Pain level currently a 1/10

Monday, October 10, 2016

The Long Road: Zero to Boston 2017 - Warm Up 1a

[Edit One: I realize I haven't yet posted about the injury itself and the reason I haven't run for five months. It was a sudden, acute, and as BFF Steve says, "rip roarin" case of plantar fasciitis. Eventually, it led to surgery in an effort to fix it. I could write a tome on the experience - and trust me, I am. That post will go up soon but I don't want to get behind in documenting my journey back, from the beginning.]

[Edit Two: I also realize that I haven't officially "announced" that I was accepted into Boston 2017. There will also be an entry on that whole experience at some point!]

This week, I decided that it was now or never when it comes to getting back to running. It has been four weeks since my surgery and by all accounts, I should have been able to do some run/walking by this point anyway. Two weeks ago, even the surgeon told me to give it a try but I was not ready - physically or mentally - to do it yet.

Since that appointment, things have been steadily improving for the most part. There have even been two days in the past week when my foot felt almost normal and pain free. The pain that is there is mostly centered on the flat bottom of my heel and shows up only when something hits the area - for example, when I wear my shower flip flops at the Y and the sole slaps onto the sole of my foot. Or sometimes when I stand for an extended period. It also hurts first thing in the morning but what hurts is the outer edge of my foot, no doubt from over correcting when I walk and seemingly not PF pain.

At this point, I've been told there is nothing I can do in terms of disrupting the healing from the surgery or "ruining" it. Either it worked or it didn't, and there is no way to truly find out except to go test it by running.

My plan is to start with a 30 minute session of run one minute/walk one  minute on the soft surface track at Munford or the Vita Course. I hope to be able to do this three times a week, plus one day of spin, one day of deep water running, one to two days of strength, and a return to yoga.

I keep vacillating between excitement and terror; at any given time the percentage that I'm excited versus the percentage that I'm terrified varies wildly. Last Friday, my foot hardly hurt at all during the work day and I was 75% excited, 25% terrified. On Saturday, it hurt all day for no given reason and thus I was 40% excited and 60% terrified.

On Sunday morning, I watched CBS Sunday Morning and the lead piece was on the placebo effect and how powerful it is. I immediately decided that what I need to put this injury out of my mind is a placebo. Truly, I do believe that most of the residual pain now is simply my brain refusing to believe that it will ever get better. That night, I decided that my placebo is going to be running. If I can convince myself that getting back to my normal activities will fix me, maybe it will work.

This morning (Monday), for the first time in months, I got out of bed before my alarm went off. I only do this when I'm meeting someone for a run. Otherwise, I have to draaaaaaaaaaaaag myself out of bed because I dread what's coming.

I put my feet into my shoes and tried to take a step.

Enter terror.

It hurt and I suddenly became very afraid of what was going to happen at the Munford track.

I kept moving though, hobbling to the bathroom and then getting dressed in my running clothes for the first time in what felt like forever. As I left the house and walked down the steps to my car, my stomach was in complete knots. What was I doing? Why on Earth did I think this was a good idea anyway? I'm not ready yet and maybe I'll never be ready.

And that's precisely why I had to do it anyway.

Kit, gracious as ever, had agreed to meet me at Munford for the maiden voyage of Left Foot 3.0. Why any able-bodied runner would voluntarily do 1 min run/walk intervals is beyond me, but I was grateful that he was there. If he hadn't been, I'm pretty sure I would have just given into my fear and gone back to bed.

He greeted me with an enthusiastic "Good morning!" I just said, "Kit, I'm scared. Really, really scared."

We walked to the track and I asked that we start by just walking a lap. As we neared the end of that lap, he offered to help me stall some more by stretching. I declined; I had already used my super duper stretching jobber at home and I couldn't just keep finding ways to avoid what I needed to do.

Off we went. The first minute of running was not pleasant. My foot wailed at me and I concentrated hard on not accommodating it, not compensating in my gait. As the intervals went on, it stopped wailing and toned down to a loud murmur. Other things woke up and protested - strangely, my right quad and glute were the most vocal. A bit more than half way through, I said I wanted to run a little longer, so we did two 90-second intervals. For the last run interval, I said I just wanted to run one lap the whole way - .25 miles.

One. Quarter. Mile.

As we ran that lap, I reminded myself that a month ago I could not take a single step. My husband was literally carrying me around the house, or I was crawling on my hands and knees. A quarter mile is nothing in distance running, but this morning it was everything.

When the 30 minutes were up, I had covered just under 3 miles.

It's a start.

At home, I stretched my calf and massaged the heck out of my foot before heading off to work. Despite that, I am paying for those three miles, though not nearly as much as I paid for it when I tried to run over the summer. After sitting at my desk for a while, my first few steps hurt but after 5 or 6 strides it became manageable with little favoring or limping. It's not any worse than it has been over the course of the last 4 weeks and most of the discomfort is in the bottom of my heel and not in my arch or the usual PF hot spot.

Hopefully with some ice and massaging tonight, it will be back to "new normal" by tomorrow morning and I can try again on Wednesday.