Thursday, April 13, 2017

What's the Big Deal?

I have a tendency to forget that not everyone in my life is a runner.


It's easy to do when you spend what adds up to weeks, months, and years with other runners, talking endlessly about the ins and outs of our obsession, using our special language or acronyms and silly words (as a runner, I am obligated to now mention the words "fartlek" and "Yasso" as well as the acronyms PR and DOMS).

It's not just runners either. We humans have a tendency to hang out with people who are like us and share our interests and when we interact with people who are outside of that bubble, our lengthy soliloquies about [insert obsession here] are annoying gibberish. We take for granted that everyone knows what we're talking about because well duh... why wouldn't they?

I take for granted that everyone understands why the Boston Marathon is a Big Deal® but the reality is that most of the people in my life have no idea why it means so much. I mean, there are races like every weekend, and anybody can run one, so who cares, right? And I've run a couple marathons before, so woohoo, another one. Big whoop.

So I'm going to tell you why Boston is considered the holy grail of marathons, not just for me, but for thousands of runners from all over the world.

Prestige and History - The Boston Marathon is the oldest marathon in the US, dating all the way back to 1897. This year is the 121st running of the race. Of course things are a heck of a lot different now than they were in 1897, or even in 1967 or 1987. Participation in distance running has skyrocketed over the past twenty years and as that has happened, I think that Boston has become even more iconic to the average runner.

Boston is also one of the six World Marathon Major races. These six are the largest and most renowned marathons in the world. The others are Tokyo, London, Berlin, Chicago, and New York. Running all six is a big goal for some people (don't worry... it's not one of mine). For runners, participating in one of the World Majors is kind of like the NCAA Basketball Tournament or NFL Post-Season.

For these two reasons, Boston attracts some of the world's most elite marathon runners. I, along with around 30,000 other people, will line up with Meb Keflezighi, Galen Rupp, Buzuesh Deba, and Desi Linden to participate in the same event. That's like getting to play on a football team with Tom Brady, or playing doubles with Serena Williams, or fielding for the Red Sox. Obviously I won't be racing side by side with these world class athletes (shoot, I would barely be able to keep up with them if I was on a bike!), but I will be running the same race, following in their footsteps.

Boston is also important to a lot of women this year because it is the 50th anniversary of Kathrine Switzer historic 1967 feat, when she became the first woman to register for and complete the Boston Marathon. Kathrine's accomplishment started to break down the long-held notion that women couldn't participate in distance running and she went on to be a major influence in finally getting the BAA to allow women to officially register for Boston Marathon and later, for the women's marathon to become an Olympic sport. Because of Kathrine, women make up more than half of marathon finishers in the US today.

To mark the occasion, Kathrine will be running the race on Monday. No one has ever run a marathon 50 years after their first, but I have every confidence that Kathrine will be smashing that barrier too.

I was extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to interview and meet her in November 2015. That year I ran with her signature on my bib at the Richmond Marathon and it is so overwhelming to think that I'll be running in Boston with her - the woman who is in no small way responsible for me even being allowed to participate in this race.

From Kathrine to the Wellesley girls to the Citgo Sign to Meb's win in 2014, to Alberto Salazar and David Beardsley's famous "Dual in the Sun" in 1982 to the terrible bombing in 2013 that only made the running community rally stronger... there is so much history and tradition, so many stories and legends surrounding this particular race that it has reached mythic status. As a runner, to feel that I get to participate in and add my own chapter to the Boston Marathon's story is overwhelming.

Not just anyone can run Boston - Let me give you a quick statistic. Annually, only half a percent of Americans completes a marathon. Of that half percent, around 12% qualify for Boston. Of that 12% of half a percent, only 4-5% actually go on to register for and run Boston.

Now, I'm really bad at math so I won't even try to calculate what teeny tiny fraction of a fraction of a percent of the American population that is.

In other words, not many people get to have this experience.

Typically, any old Joe Schmoe can go sign up for a marathon and theoretically, finish one. Most don't require any kind of proof that Joe Schmoe can complete a marathon or has done so successfully. You could go out tomorrow and register for one if you wanted to.

For the bigger and more popular races, there are often race lotteries where you put your name in the pool and hope you are one of the lucky ones who gets chosen (New York, Chicago, and Marine Corps all employ this). You could also guarantee your entry into these races by qualifying. That means you run a marathon in X time and you are automatically in. New York City's qualifying standards, for example, and more difficult than Boston's. Chicago also uses qualifying times (and countless others, I'm sure).

So why is Boston still the be-all-end-all for many amateur runners?

Because Boston has no lottery. If you don't qualify for NYC, you put your name in that hat and you can still get the chance to run it. Not so in Boston. There are only two ways to get the chance to run. You either qualify, or you raise thousands of dollars for a charity as a charity runner. 80% of the field in Boston is for qualifiers only. As a result, it is the fastest marathon in the country and also very difficult to get in to.

Simply put, to run Boston,  for most of us, you have to work hard and you have to really earn it. Earning a Boston Qualifying time alone is a badge of honor. Nowadays, getting in has become so competitive that even just earning that BQ time doesn't mean you're going to get in. My first two BQs were not fast enough and I did not make the cut for the 2016 race. The bar for participation is set higher and higher every year.

People go to crazy lengths to lie, cheat, and steal their way into the race. The problem has gotten so much attention that there is a person who has made it his personal mission to identify and catch cheaters; that my entrant information contains pages of policies and disclaimers about bib transfers or selling and the consequences, along with warnings to not post photos of my bib on social media lest someone use Photoshop to print a fake bib and run with it; that people do try to sell Boston entries for up to $5,000 on message boards and Craigslist.

For honest amateur runners, getting a BQ is a goal that they strive towards for years and years. Anyone can run a marathon... not just anyone can run in Boston. Some are able to achieve it, and some never do. I never thought I would be able to qualify. After the bombing, I even wrote these words:

Ironically, I had never really been much interested in the Boston Marathon before this year. But this year, the bug got me.  Even though I have never run a marathon and am not anywhere fast enough to qualify, the pipe dream of someday, somehow, running Boston entered my head.

I wrote that on April 16, 2013.

Obviously I never imagined that four years later, almost to the day, I would be running the Boston Marathon not as a charity runner but having qualified three times. My mind set changed when my good friend Lauren qualified for Boston at Steamtown in 2014. Lauren and I had trained for our first marathon together and ran much of it side by side. When she achieved that BQ it made me think that maybe someday it could be in my realm of possibility too. My quest for Boston began in earnest in February 2015.

A two year roller coaster of training, injuries, surgery, tears, pain, joy, and of course hundreds of thousands of miles running have brought me here.

For all of us so-called "recreational" runners (a term I kind of hate), Boston is our Super Bowl. It seems like a crazy dream but it is also an achievable dream. We watch friends do it and we think, "Hm, maybe I can too." It's a goal to strive for; something to push for; something to keep us going.

To earn the right to wear that finisher jacket is a big achievement. It's our moment in the sun - our moment of glory. For us average people and average runners, our lives and races are mostly carried out in anonymity.

In Boston, though, we are superstars for a day. We are all elite.

So there you have it. That's why Boston is such a Big Deal®, at least to me. Obviously there are as many reasons to want to run a race as there are runners. A lot of runners will give reasons that are a lot more noble. Some will say it is a bucket list item; that they're raising money for charity; that they're using the race as the summit of getting through some difficult or challenging period in their life; in memory of someone; etc.

Most won't ever admit that one of the reasons they want to run Boston is to join that elite group of qualifiers/finishers. Being competitive is out of style. I don't really care that it is. Yup, I'm competitive. Against myself and against the other runners. Yup, I want to beat you. Yup, I'm proud that I trained hard, ran fast, and am running Boston because I qualified for it. No, I'm not sorry.

I want to run Boston because I want to join that group of runners, add my name to that that long and prestigious list. I want to run it because I earned it. Because I have clawed my way back from injury and worked my butt off to get to this start line. I want to make my husband proud. I want to run it for those who can't. I want to hear the walls of sound coming from 500,000 spectators, see that iconic finish line ahead of me, and cross it. I want to follow in Meb's and Kathrine's footsteps. I want to escape my average life and for a day, I want to feel elite.

4 days.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

LR2B - T-minus 11 days

That my last entry was about my no good very bad long run is a great example of how no good and very bad I have become with documenting things.

Since that entry, written at the tail end of February, much has transpired and here I am cruising through Taper Town with my most intense month of training behind me. After that bad run, I was very anxious about how March was going to go and thankfully, 75% of it turned out to be fine. The other 25% was the week after the no good long run, during which I felt exhausted, sore, and completely sluggish. BFF Steve and I chalked it up to a bout with over training syndrome; after all, I had just run my highest volume mileage week in more than a year.

[Never mind that my highest mileage week in a year was a measly 32 miles...]

Taking it easy for a few days and trading roads for trails for my long run the next week seemed to do the trick for my body, but I had still had to work to convince my mind that I really could pull off the rest of the training. Mother nature helped out a little when she got the memo that it was in fact still winter/early spring and NOT early summer. Cooler temps helped immensely as I ticked my way through March, building a bit of confidence with each successful run.

Before I knew it, I was facing down the biggest week of training: a Yasso Test on March 20th; 10 miles on March 22nd, and my one and only 20 miler on March 25. Back when I made my plan, I remember filling in this week and feeling like it was going to be impossible to execute. At the time (waaaaay back in January), I was doing 20 mile weeks and that was hard enough.

[That waaaaaay back thing was sarcasm, by the way]

I tried really hard to weasel my way out of the Yasso test. I was afraid to do it because I had just had a great long run that had done much to restore my confidence in my ability to successfully complete a marathon and the last thing that I wanted to happen was to follow it with a big fat fail of a Yasso test. As every runner knows, the physical aspect of the sport (while difficult) is the easier thing to build up and the real test is whether you can train your brain into believing you can achieve what you need to.

Kit, however, would not allow me to weasel out of the Yasso. I begrudgingly met him at the track on Monday morning.

[If you don't care about the technicalities of running, skip this next part you'll be really bored. It's safe again after the picture.]

If you're not familiar with the Yasso Test, here's a really basic primer. It is named after the Official Mayor of Running, Bart Yasso, whom I've had the pleasure of running and post-run breakfasting with multiple times. He had a habit of running 800s and discovered a pattern that his 800 lap time and his marathon finish time correlated almost exactly; the Yasso Test thus became a marathon finish time predictor.

Here is how it works. Let's say you have a goal of running a 3 hour, 45 minute marathon (3:45). To test whether you are physically prepared, your goal with the Yasso is to complete a track work out that consists of 10 - 800 meter intervals complete in 3 minutes, 45 seconds each, with a rest period of similar duration between each.  So:

Mile warm up
800m in 3:45
Recovery jog for 3:45
800m in 3:45
Recovery jog for 3:45
[repeat until you've done it ten times]

It sounds complicated, but it isn't really.

It doesn't sound very difficult to execute either. For the first few laps, it feels pretty reasonable indeed. The pace is usually slower than speed work and thus you are fooled into thinking that the Yasso Test is easy as pie. But by the time you get to the 8th, 9th, 10th 800, you realize it is no joke.

Though I haven't said it "on the record" before, my goal for Boston is to run a 3 hour, 45 minute marathon. Initially I just wanted to come in under four hours, but based on the paces I have been able to keep during long runs, the 3:45 felt like it fell pretty easily within the realm of possibility. Therefore, I needed to run each of my 800s in 3 minutes, 45 seconds. It felt daunting and impossible but as it turns out, I'm in much better shape than I thought...

Instead of being the confidence basher that I feared, the Yasso turned out to be a huge boost, showing that I'm apparently capable of maybe even a 3 hour, 35 minute marathon. I could hardly believe it.

The Yasso was followed by a really glorious, and more conservatively paced, 10 miler on Wednesday - which also happened to be my birthday. Kit and I did a point to point route that covered pretty much all of our favorite places: Nickel Bridge, Riverside Drive, Belle Isle, Canal Walk, Flood Wall, and new favorite place, the Tyler Potterfield "T-Pot" Memorial Bridge.


I wish I could say that my 20 mile long run was awesome and that I felt fantastic but I didn't. It wasn't as bad as the no good horrible run, but it wasn't great. The last four miles were a real slog; my left adductors were really just done with me starting at mile 16, which made my left knee start to hurt as my gait suffered through loss of control of those left thigh muscles. The left side continued to bother me and on the following Monday, for the first time during this training cycle, I opted to not do my run. With the real work behind me and a slightly wonky knee going on, it wasn't worth the risk to insist on completing those 8 miles. So I didn't. I'm slightly perturbed about it, as I had been perfectly on track until that point, but better safe than sorry. I've worked far too hard to risk it all by being stubborn now.

Just 11 days away now, it still seems completely surreal that I am going to be running the Boston Marathon. Not only because it is Boston, but because 6 months ago, I could hardly complete 30 minutes of run/walk. 9 months ago, I was on crutches and crying multiple times a week out of frustration, pain, and fear that I would never run again.

That I've come so far in so little time is mind-blowing to me. When this started, my only goal was to get to the finish line on my own two feet, and to hopefully not have to walk any part of the marathon. I never imagined that I would feel confident enough to say that I think I can run a 3:45 in Boston. Truly, I believe I could run a 3:35 an re-qualify, but I also think that would be very painful and not fun. I would rather enjoy this experience so I am not aiming for that goal.

I am now allowing myself to get excited about this. I have been holding back because the specter of injury haunted me throughout the training cycle. It felt like this could all be taken away at any second, without rhyme or reason, just like in May.

It could still be... I am become that crazy, 2 weeks out from a marathon, paranoid runner who hand washes constantly to avoid illness, who won't go on the trails for fear of turning an ankle, who won't go for a bike ride for fear of cars/falling off, who won't walk around shoeless in the dark for fear of stubbing and breaking a toe.

[And I might be already obsessively checking the weather forecast, multiple times a day, through  multiple weather services. Right now the weather looks spectacular, by the way. Sunday night low of 40, partly cloudy and high of 54 on race day.]

So while being excessively careful, I am also plotting how we will spend the time in Boston, made pre-race dinner reservations, and lined up entertainment/touristing. I ordered my race day top (Boston Blue of course), and even a new pair of run sunglasses because I decided I did not want my current pair to be documented for all time in my Boston debut photographs. I've read through my passport and race day guide and started my race-day gear pile.

Nope, I wasn't AT ALL excited on the day my passport and guide finally arrived.

I'm trying to suppress talk of the race in every day conversation. I don't speak of it unless someone else brings it up (except in the case of Husband and Kit. Sorry guys...). Obviously this is a big deal for me but not so much for everyone else in my life.

That being said, I probably will post a few more thoughts that I want to get out before I go; in particular, how this training cycle was different than all the others and the full story on the TENEX surgery that I had and what the recovery was truly like from the standpoint of an active person/athlete. Unfortunately, injury - and in particular plantar fasciitis- is such a common experience for runners that I want to share my experience in hopes of helping others who are suffering from it and trying to make decisions about treatment and understand what recovery can look like.

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.