Thoughts
December 6, 2008.
it was 3 years ago, but it might as well have been yesterday. Two of our friends were getting ready to tie the knot.
My best friend and her husband knocked on the door as I slipped into my pink silk party dress and quickly tied the sash. I begrudgingly tugged on my black tights hoping they’d at least do a little something to protect my legs from the biting early winter cold. I stepped into my favorite pair of black heels and we headed out the door.
It was during the lull between the ceremony and the reception that I first noticed something was wrong. I was sitting awkwardly on a grey faux-leather ottoman, trying to be at least somewhat ladylike in my fancy dress. All the 20- something’s had gathered at a friend’s house until it was time to head downtown to continue the celebration. It was then I noticed the front of my left foot bothering me. I surreptitiously slipped out of my heel and rubbed my foot a few times. I chalked it up to an uncomfortable shoe.
Already? I’d barely even walked in my heels yet. I ignored it and continued to get wrapped up in wedding excitement as we piled into a couple cars and headed downtown.
When I woke up the next morning the pain still lingered. “I guess I better get some new running shoes”, I thought to myself. I’d only run three miles the morning of the wedding, but it looked like I might be heading down the path of injury. Not surprising…I’d been putting off getting new shoes for awhile, optimistically holding out until the next pair of my favorite DS trainers were released.
I brushed the dull pain off for a few days and took it easy on my feet, but when it started to bruise I knew this wasn’t something that was going to go away on its own anytime soon. If only I knew then just how long it would be.
Dec 6, 2008. It was the start of a beautiful marriage for our friends; it was the start of a long trying journey for me.
I never forget that it hurts, but it’s become such a part of my life, such a part of me, that I often cease to acknowledge it. It’s just a part of me, like having brown hair and arms that don’t straighten. It’s only when I have to cave in and ask for some help opening a jar of peanut butter or a bottle of water that I remember just how bad it was. I’m so grateful to have gotten past the worst of it, but perpetually frustrated to still be dealing with it.
To slip on shoes and run like a normal person; to tie the laces without difficulty. The things I used to take for granted and never will again.
I still wonder if this is where the story ends- a poorly written cliffhanger that just leaves everything hanging as is; no closure, no sequel, no answers.
I wonder if I’ll be able to hold my baby or change a diaper in the middle of the night when the pain is at its worst.
I wonder if I’ll be able to gather up the courage to run through the pain again, or if getting through it once is all I had in me.
I wonder if it’ll ever go away.
One thing I don’t wonder is where my life would be if this had never happened. As with any major decision or event in life, like choosing which college to go to, the things that come afterward may never have happened otherwise. Without this, I’d probably still take running for granted; I’d probably still be at a job that made me miserable; I’d probably never have signed up for a triathlon; I certainly wouldn’t be blogging.
Good or bad, the things that happen to you in life shape who you are, and pain or not, this is who I am.
Training
All day yesterday I grappled with my decision to officially register for the Columbia Triathlon in May.
I honestly couldn’t tell you what I was going to do until I went to sleep late last night. {I’ve always been a good procrastinator.}
I was encouraged by your positive comments…
…and even took a poll.
But ultimately, I was the one that had to make the decision.
And I decided…
Not to do it.
Not my favorite decision. But in the end it came down to being smart and realistic, and realizing there’d be other opportunities.
Why I Decided Not to Race
- In the past 10 months, I’ve only been running for 3 weeks. A 45 minute 5K laden with obstacles and delays was the farthest I’ve run since last June.
- The race is in 5 weeks. {6.2 miles for the run}
- The run I hurt my knee on was 6 miles. I’d run two half marathons leading up to that 6 mile run- I was well-trained, and still got hurt.
- I knew I couldn’t ask people for money and not fulfill my obligation to complete the race.
- Knowing that, I might not have made the wisest decisions for my body come race day. {I.e: drop out on the run.}
- I don’t have a bike yet
- I already have a full race calendar, with tris in June and August, and a bike ride in July. I don’t want to blow a whole season on one race, no matter how much that’s the one I really want to do.
and ultimately,
- If it were any of you asking me for the same advice, I’d tell you not to do it.
- I’m keeping mom and the husband happy.
{Hey, they’re the ones that’d have to listen to me complain about my hurting knee and not being able to run. Kind of like they have for the past 10 months…}
I don’t think it’s a coincidence my inbox was full of race registration announcements this morning. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure I don’t have to anymore. It felt fantastic to write that race recap this weekend, and I want to write more!
So, while I won’t be doing the Olympic tri next month, I’m still in training mode- just for a shorter race 4 weeks later. Shorter + more time to train can only = good things. Right?
Training
I’ve been sitting at my desk since I woke up this morning, staring at the computer screen as I absent mindedly flip between the blank white screen of Windows Live Writer and the taunting registration form for the Columbia Triathlon.
{I’m already signed up through a charity team, but I have to make my entry official. By today.}
I thought I’d have a clear cut answer after Saturday’s {awesome} run. But here I am, still wavering.
During and after the race my knee felt great, but I’ve been around the block enough to know that post-race is hardly the time to make an educated decision about an injury. Whether it’s the after-run endorphin high or just delayed-onset pain, I know from experience it’s not how it feels after the run that matters.
It’s how it feels the day after the run that matters.
And frankly, yesterday, as the day went on, my knee started to hurt.
But I was thrown for a loop. Caught off guard. My IT band didn’t hurt. At all. {Victory!!}.
However, my kneecap….that hurt.
To be honest, I was expecting my IT band to be killing me. I was fully prepared for it to hurt…to scream as I walked down the stairs Sunday morning. To tell me exactly what to do about racing. But it didn’t. I didn’t know what to make of my kneecap hurting instead, and I went to bed not knowing what decision I was going to make in the morning.
I still don’t know what decision I’m going to make. My knee feels great today. IT band? Check. Kneecap? Check. All systems go…
Except I still don’t know what I want to do. I know what my brain says and I know what my heart says- only what they’re saying isn’t clear cut; the lines are blurred.
I feel great today, but the what ifs are bothering me. What if I train and I get to 5 miles and I can’t do anymore? What if I train and it all goes well, and then come race day, I can’t do it? What if I have to resign to a DNF? How does that make the people that donated money to the team feel?
And what if I train and it goes fantastic and I get to do the tri I’ve wanted to do since I knew what a tri was?
Training
My mom and I learned the hard way years ago that when you pass out Gatorade to runners you shouldn’t put your fingers in the cups.
Unless you want yellow hands for the next few days.
For years we walked around the corner and up the hill to volunteer at the aid station, passing out water and Gatorade to athletes finishing up the run leg of the Columbia Triathlon. Sometimes I was with my mom; sometimes with my track team. But for years, I was out there.
I don’t know when “ew those guys are bleeding through their shirts” changed to “I have to do that one day.” But it did. Watching the Columbia Triathlon is what made me want to do a triathlon one day.
Columbia’s known for being a fairly tough course, so I knew it’d be awhile before I’d be able to do it. The race fills up quickly, so I knew I’d have to be patient waiting for my chance.
I had no idea that chance would come this year. Yeah, this year, the year I’ve spent sitting on the sidelines watching, injured. Not the year I spent the off-season training and building a base, preparing to do my best race.
And then last week, I got an email:
I checked and double checked- it wasn’t a mistake. I had a spot in the Columbia Triathlon. This year. As in less than 9 weeks away.
See, last year after 24 Hours of Booty, I did something I’d been thinking about for awhile. I joined Team Fight, a team training, racing, and raising money to support the fight against cancer.
When I signed up, I selected the races I wanted to participate in as a member of Team Fight. I was a little late signing up, and I knew the chances of getting a slot in the popular races was low, but I picked them anyways, just in case.
A few days later I got an email saying I had a slot in one of the August races. Woohoo! I was disappointed I didn’t get into the Columbia triathlon, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew I just needed to sign up earlier next year.
And then that other email came. Last week. Umm.
Sure. Right. A tri in 9 weeks? Maybe a sprint. Or a casual indoor tri. Not an Olympic tri that I’ve been looking forward to racing in since I knew what a tri was.
I can run a whopping 3/4 of a mile right now. I have no idea how this is going to go, but after thinking about it, hopping in the pool and on the bike, I’ve decided to give it a try. {Haha pun intended.}
It’ll be like training for my first tri all over again- where the 3 sports I’m training for are: swimming, biking, and strengthening. Only this time I’ll be strengthening my knee. I’ll be building my training slowly, but “slow” will have a new definition for the running part- as in painfully slow. I’ve been signed up for a 5K at the beginning of April for a few months. That’s what I’m training for- 3.1 miles. Then I have another month and half to double that.
Of course, if anything hurts, I won’t be doing it. And this race is attached to a fundraising goal – I’ll start fundraising in a few weeks, once I’ve figured out I can really do this. Like reallly do this. It’s not fair to fundraise and then not follow through on the race, although the organization deserves the money regardless.
It won’t be my best time, or even my best race. But it will be the Columbia Tri, and I will be setting a time to beat next year.
Guest Posts, Injuries, Running
Today’s post is from Katie at Live for the Long Run. Katie learned about injuries the hard way- and early on. Here’s her story:
I learned the hard way that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.
I started running in August of 2009. I quickly fell in love with the release it provided me as well as the magnificent things it was doing for my health. All of these positive side effects made me push harder. There was just one problem: I had no idea what I was doing.
My ignorance and overzealousness caught up with me.
After running for three months with a pain in my left leg, I finally visited a sports medicine doctor in December of 2009 when I started feeling the pain all of the time. I explained my symptoms to him. He listened. He nodded. He rang a tuning fork and held it up against the spot that I was complaining about pain. I jumped off the table. He diagnosed me with a stress fracture.
He pulled his chair up to the table I was sitting on and wrote out his treatment plan for me on the paper liner covering the table. The original treatment plan included:
1. No more running. Nada. Zip. Zero. (Water running and spinning were still okay).
2. Physical therapy three times a week.
3. Active release therapy (ART) three times a week.
4. Start taking calcium and vitamin D on top of my multivitamin.
I didn’t listen. I had made so much progress with running, I decided I could just back down on my mileage and that would be enough. I didn’t want to start gaining weight back/losing the fitness level I had worked so hard to get.
A month later, I went back to my sports med. doc for a reassessment. He took one look at the x-ray and shook his head.
The stress fracture had gotten significantly worse. My secret treatment plan was no longer a secret. Water running and spinning was out.
This sexy looking boot was in. For two whole months.
I continued with physical therapy. No ART until the bone healed. I listened this time and wore the boot all the time.
At first, I scoffed at the physical therapy exercises. Moving a towel with my foot? Scrunching a towel up using my toe? Seriously?
Then my physical therapist retook my measurements. My range of movement was significantly better. I don’t know if it was the rest that my leg was getting thanks to the boot or the seemingly mundane exercises using high-tech equipment like towels, but something was working.
I struggled when I stopped feeling pain all the time in my leg. I decided that since I wasn’t in pain anymore, I must be healed. I wanted to take off the boot and go for a run. Physical therapy was not enough exercise for me. Constant preachings from my physical therapist, Dan, was the only reason I continued to wear the boot. Finally he told me that if I didn’t listen, I’d probably never run again.
After that, I threw everything I had into my physical therapy. After two months of PT, I started ART and ditched the boot. ART was the best pain I have ever felt.
I went back to the doctor after a month of ART. He looked at my x-ray. He pulled his chair over to the table and started writing on the paper table liner again.
This time was writing out a training schedule for getting back into running safely. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I listened to every word he said. I took it slow. I hit the mileage that my doc prescribed every week, never exceeding it. Every time I wanted to push, I heard Dan’s voice in the back of my head telling me that I might never run again. I still hear Dan’s voice to this day (creepy, I know).
In some ways, dealing with such a serious injury so early in my running career was a good thing. The consequences of overtraining are very real. It’s not something that could happen to someone else, but never to me. I am human. When something hurts, I head back to my sports med doc’s office. I constantly remind myself that running through pain today might mean that I can’t run tomorrow.
I want to running twenty, thirty, maybe even fifty years from now.
I’ve got time.
Why rush through the healing process now?
Have a story about overcoming injury or starting to run? Email me: rungirlrunn at gmail dot com.
