UGH!
This past Wednesday I went for a nice run around the neighborhood. Nothing crazy, just your average everyday sweep along the sidewalks of beautiful Riva Trace. The sun was shining, the trees were beautiful and I was thinking affectionately about the 81 year old woman who just died after her last marathon. I was sad that she died but felt happy that the last thing she got to do was something she really loved for the better part of what I think was 50 years.
SCRRRRAAATCH! My memories were violently interrupted like a record needle scratching vinyl. As I turned the corner and passed the entrance to the retirement home, I stepped onto some leaves strewn along the sidewalk. My foot immediately went down into a hole in the sidewalk I could not see beneath the leaves and turned inward. My left foot, firmly planted on the concrete was able to take the weight and I was able to remain upright instead of face planting into the sidewalk or falling with the weight of my entire body onto my ankle.
That said, remaining upright still wasn't pretty. I looked around. There was a little, older lady approaching with her cane. I think I both shocked and appalled her with the litany of expletives that left my mouth. I doubt there are more creative ways to use the "F" word than I came up with. Immediately, panic set in. How hurt was I? Could I make it home? I was a mile from home and it was getting chilly out. I had on lighter clothes because I hadn't counted on walking. CRAP.
I started running again after walking for a couple of minutes. To my surprise, no pain and no swelling. Good sign, I thought. I gave it a couple more minutes to see. Still no pain, no swelling, no burning. Great. I can at least make it home. Gingerly navigating the sidewalk, I made it home.
First order of business: Ice. I dug out the gel ice strip and put it on my foot. Next, I took an aspirin. Ok, the rest remains to be seen.
The next day, the top of my foot was sore but not swollen and though it was sensitive to put weight on it, I could walk and move my toes around. PHEW!
However, here I sit today, SUNDAY still unable to run. UGH. My foot is improving but still sore. I guess the moral of this story is cut down all the trees so there are no leaves. KIDDING. I need to watch my footing. The very last thing I need is yet another injury!
On the plus side, my ankles, feet and core were strong enough to endure a particularly bad twist with no lasting damage. That is definitely PROGRESS!
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
Running Through
Yesterday was long run day. Typically on long run day, I anticipate mileage north of 10 that is slow and not particularly aggressive. I call it my "stroll". It's a good zone 2 workout without a lot of speed. A half and half builder of mental toughness and good running "base".
Yesterday was different.
On Thursday, I logged into Training Peaks to see that the coach had posted this as my long run workout for Sunday: 14 miles/1:50. Followed by, "You have a good base coming off your Half Ironman." She had some other stuff in there too about pacing and for which mile but I looked right past all of that to what really mattered: 1:50.
RIGHT. Need I mention that during said 70.3 I dehydrated and had to WALK a good portion of the run? HMMM. Need I also mention that it's been a couple of weeks since I have done a long run (hello TAPER). To say the least, I was a bit ..... incredulous.
But then, I asked, "What if?". What if I just hauled my ass out there and ran that long run like a race? Could I get close to 1:50? The weather was supposed to be perfect - 70 degrees and cloudy. My kind of day. SO why NOT?
I drove to the Baltimore-Annapolis Trail. The only place I could think of that had already done the hard work of counting the miles (with mile markers). I knew the terrain (always a comfort) and there were enough hills to partially replicate what I would encounter on race day. I did a quick inventory. Hammergel, check. Water, check (there is water along the trail so dehydration would not be an issue). Sunscreen, check. Mental attitude in the positive, double check.
I took off with the fancy Timex watch in tow. I wanted to get an idea of pace so I decided that equipment was in order for this long run. I decided to warm up for three miles and then build. After the build I would RACE the rest of the run. Despite ignoring most of her instructions, I knew my coach would get it. I needed to understand where I might blow up, how and under what sort of circumstances. I needed to see if I could come close to 1:50 without blowing up. But that's the rub. I had to be willing to blow up.
At the end of three miles, I felt great. Time to build. I looked at the fancy Timex. I was pleasantly surprised at my time. I was ahead of where I thought I would be. I was encouraged. Next up, the build. I kept reducing my time by 10 seconds per mile, then 15. I neared mile 6 and picked up the pace again. It was slightly uphill but I kept the increased pace. I covered the next mile, ate some Hammergel and turned around. Time to RACE. I set my sights on sub-nines. At this point in my healing adventure, this is a good time for me for a 14 mile run. When I looked at the fancy watch at mile 8, I couldn't believe it! I was doing FAR better than just sub-nines. I was crushing it. I picked up the pace again. Systemically, I felt fine. My glutes, however, were beginning to give way.
Mile 10. Always the hardest mile. It's in that middle place where you really have to focus. I was tired, my form was slipping and I was losing mental focus. STEADY PRESSURE on the HILLS, I kept repeating to myself (sometimes out loud) to bring my focus back to where I was. Here, running. NOW. FORM. KEEP the FORM.
By mile 11, it was all uphill. Steady pressure. As I ran, the sensation to stop and walk washed over me. I declared NO out loud. I began to run past the sensation. As I ran past it, I ran past what felt like a film of the former me - a diaphanous membrane with the texture of a bubble. The old me. The injured me. The me who has been holding me back. The fearful me. I ran through her. Through the bubble, the fatigue and doubt. I simply just ran through. I felt her trying to claw me back. As if she were saying "Wait, you don't know where this will go. You could fail or get hurt. You could...." I kept running. I slipped through the membrane and mile 13.
ONE MILE TO GO. I was still running. As fast as I could go. Leg turnover, excellent. Speed, good. Glutes and hamstrings, OUCH.
As the "finish line" approached, I looked down at the display of the fancy Timex: 2:06. NOT bad. NOT bad at all. Sub nines for training means sub nines for the race. Tired, sore, achy and happy, I stretched and listened to the birds singing around me.
I glanced back up the trail, through the trees to the wooden bridge where legs burning and at their limit, I defied myself and ran through. I smiled. I didn't blow up. I made it. And I will again. Metric Marathon, here I come.
Yesterday was different.
On Thursday, I logged into Training Peaks to see that the coach had posted this as my long run workout for Sunday: 14 miles/1:50. Followed by, "You have a good base coming off your Half Ironman." She had some other stuff in there too about pacing and for which mile but I looked right past all of that to what really mattered: 1:50.
RIGHT. Need I mention that during said 70.3 I dehydrated and had to WALK a good portion of the run? HMMM. Need I also mention that it's been a couple of weeks since I have done a long run (hello TAPER). To say the least, I was a bit ..... incredulous.
But then, I asked, "What if?". What if I just hauled my ass out there and ran that long run like a race? Could I get close to 1:50? The weather was supposed to be perfect - 70 degrees and cloudy. My kind of day. SO why NOT?
I drove to the Baltimore-Annapolis Trail. The only place I could think of that had already done the hard work of counting the miles (with mile markers). I knew the terrain (always a comfort) and there were enough hills to partially replicate what I would encounter on race day. I did a quick inventory. Hammergel, check. Water, check (there is water along the trail so dehydration would not be an issue). Sunscreen, check. Mental attitude in the positive, double check.
I took off with the fancy Timex watch in tow. I wanted to get an idea of pace so I decided that equipment was in order for this long run. I decided to warm up for three miles and then build. After the build I would RACE the rest of the run. Despite ignoring most of her instructions, I knew my coach would get it. I needed to understand where I might blow up, how and under what sort of circumstances. I needed to see if I could come close to 1:50 without blowing up. But that's the rub. I had to be willing to blow up.
At the end of three miles, I felt great. Time to build. I looked at the fancy Timex. I was pleasantly surprised at my time. I was ahead of where I thought I would be. I was encouraged. Next up, the build. I kept reducing my time by 10 seconds per mile, then 15. I neared mile 6 and picked up the pace again. It was slightly uphill but I kept the increased pace. I covered the next mile, ate some Hammergel and turned around. Time to RACE. I set my sights on sub-nines. At this point in my healing adventure, this is a good time for me for a 14 mile run. When I looked at the fancy watch at mile 8, I couldn't believe it! I was doing FAR better than just sub-nines. I was crushing it. I picked up the pace again. Systemically, I felt fine. My glutes, however, were beginning to give way.
Mile 10. Always the hardest mile. It's in that middle place where you really have to focus. I was tired, my form was slipping and I was losing mental focus. STEADY PRESSURE on the HILLS, I kept repeating to myself (sometimes out loud) to bring my focus back to where I was. Here, running. NOW. FORM. KEEP the FORM.
By mile 11, it was all uphill. Steady pressure. As I ran, the sensation to stop and walk washed over me. I declared NO out loud. I began to run past the sensation. As I ran past it, I ran past what felt like a film of the former me - a diaphanous membrane with the texture of a bubble. The old me. The injured me. The me who has been holding me back. The fearful me. I ran through her. Through the bubble, the fatigue and doubt. I simply just ran through. I felt her trying to claw me back. As if she were saying "Wait, you don't know where this will go. You could fail or get hurt. You could...." I kept running. I slipped through the membrane and mile 13.
ONE MILE TO GO. I was still running. As fast as I could go. Leg turnover, excellent. Speed, good. Glutes and hamstrings, OUCH.
As the "finish line" approached, I looked down at the display of the fancy Timex: 2:06. NOT bad. NOT bad at all. Sub nines for training means sub nines for the race. Tired, sore, achy and happy, I stretched and listened to the birds singing around me.
I glanced back up the trail, through the trees to the wooden bridge where legs burning and at their limit, I defied myself and ran through. I smiled. I didn't blow up. I made it. And I will again. Metric Marathon, here I come.
Monday, April 22, 2013
The Finish Line
Running has always been a sacred space for me. From the time I ran around the block for the first time, I was hooked. I remember the first time I ran 8 miles. It was on Christmas Day and the trail was empty. Just me, what wild life was left and a forest of hibernating trees. I could see my breath and feel my heart beat as my legs moved me effortlessly forward. I felt joy rise up and fill my heart as I ran the last hundred yards to the car. I'd never run farther in my life before that day. There would be longer distances and many more days but for some reason, that eight mile run really stands out. I felt like I was one with the Universe.
Running is my moving meditation. My opportunity to leave the mind behind and really focus on being in the moment.
Running is the great equalizer. It does not care how much money you have, how influential you are or whether you are grouchy or kind. It treats everyone the same - you get from running what you give. That fairness, that equalization, is also why running is the great connector. It galvanizes communities, families, friends and causes. It inspires others to come out and cheer and selflessly celebrate the accomplishment of another. Running draws people together in warmth and celebration. It is a exercise in hope and goodness. Or it was.
Watching the terror at the Boston Marathon was one of the most difficult things I've witnessed. I watched as the carnage of runners, friends, family and spectators of all kinds lay strewn near the finish line. Tears stung my eyes as I heard that a little 8 year old boy was killed. WHY?!? I kept asking. Who would want to blow up a marathon?!? And worst of all, why blow up the FINISH LINE?!
The Finish Line. The most sacred place in any race. I thought about how many times I've crossed a finish line. At least 30 times and each and every one of them was a celebration. Sometimes I saw someone I loved patiently and eagerly awaiting my arrival. Almost always there were volunteers and other spectators cheering me on to the finish. Many times, athletes who'd finished earlier in the day had returned to keep cheering for those of us who were mere mortals. The finish line is a place of celebration, hope, encouragement and love. It is also a place of remembrance.
Those last 100 or so yards before you cross the finish line, when the crowds are cheering and the end is quickly approaching is surreal. Every sacrifice no matter how small passes through your mind. Every painful training run; early morning or late night workout; every frustrated tear or small victory; every missed happy hour and all those times someone called you "crazy" or "obsessed". All of those memories remind you how you came to be 100 yards from a sign that reads, "FINISH". I can't tell you how many times I've had tears in my eyes crossing that line. The Finish Line is the one place where joy and turmoil are not at cross purposes. Where the sweetness of perseverance and determination is rewarded with those last precious strides.
By blowing up the finish line at the Boston Marathon, those terrorists raped all runners of the bliss we feel crossing over that sacred spot. Many of us will run again and will cross many more finish lines, but we will never be as innocent again. We will have a twinge of fear for those who wait for us and so selflessly cheer us on and wonder if they will be safe. We will be looking around to see if it's safe to cross - like we would if we were crossing a dangerous street. Yes, we will pick ourselves up like runners always do but we will never be the same.
The Finish Line will still be my place of hope, truth and satisfaction. I will never let those bastards have that. But I will never again be the same. I will never be able go back to those days of fearless innocence - blissfully gliding across the line without a care in the world.
Running is my moving meditation. My opportunity to leave the mind behind and really focus on being in the moment.
Running is the great equalizer. It does not care how much money you have, how influential you are or whether you are grouchy or kind. It treats everyone the same - you get from running what you give. That fairness, that equalization, is also why running is the great connector. It galvanizes communities, families, friends and causes. It inspires others to come out and cheer and selflessly celebrate the accomplishment of another. Running draws people together in warmth and celebration. It is a exercise in hope and goodness. Or it was.
Watching the terror at the Boston Marathon was one of the most difficult things I've witnessed. I watched as the carnage of runners, friends, family and spectators of all kinds lay strewn near the finish line. Tears stung my eyes as I heard that a little 8 year old boy was killed. WHY?!? I kept asking. Who would want to blow up a marathon?!? And worst of all, why blow up the FINISH LINE?!
The Finish Line. The most sacred place in any race. I thought about how many times I've crossed a finish line. At least 30 times and each and every one of them was a celebration. Sometimes I saw someone I loved patiently and eagerly awaiting my arrival. Almost always there were volunteers and other spectators cheering me on to the finish. Many times, athletes who'd finished earlier in the day had returned to keep cheering for those of us who were mere mortals. The finish line is a place of celebration, hope, encouragement and love. It is also a place of remembrance.
Those last 100 or so yards before you cross the finish line, when the crowds are cheering and the end is quickly approaching is surreal. Every sacrifice no matter how small passes through your mind. Every painful training run; early morning or late night workout; every frustrated tear or small victory; every missed happy hour and all those times someone called you "crazy" or "obsessed". All of those memories remind you how you came to be 100 yards from a sign that reads, "FINISH". I can't tell you how many times I've had tears in my eyes crossing that line. The Finish Line is the one place where joy and turmoil are not at cross purposes. Where the sweetness of perseverance and determination is rewarded with those last precious strides.
By blowing up the finish line at the Boston Marathon, those terrorists raped all runners of the bliss we feel crossing over that sacred spot. Many of us will run again and will cross many more finish lines, but we will never be as innocent again. We will have a twinge of fear for those who wait for us and so selflessly cheer us on and wonder if they will be safe. We will be looking around to see if it's safe to cross - like we would if we were crossing a dangerous street. Yes, we will pick ourselves up like runners always do but we will never be the same.
The Finish Line will still be my place of hope, truth and satisfaction. I will never let those bastards have that. But I will never again be the same. I will never be able go back to those days of fearless innocence - blissfully gliding across the line without a care in the world.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Grateful for the burn
Friday ended up being long run day by weather default. According to the forecast (which is NEVER right, by the way. How DO those people keep their jobs?!?!) it was the only day of the weekend that didn't promise an outright or near down pour.
I am forever changing up my long run routes to ward off the ennui of turning my legs over a billion times for a couple of hours each weekend. This week, I decided I'd do a destination run. Circle a new neighborhood and then end at happy hour! Two missions accomplished and delicious fish tacos waiting at the end.
The day was sunny and nice. 55 and low winds. I set out. I chose a route that seemed hilly but not too terrible. BOY was I wrong! The first hill I coasted down made me worry. I knew that when I turned around to go back, that hill would be a killer AND it was close to the finish which meant I'd be spent. I put that thought out of my mind and kept my focus on the road - a sort of busy one with (thankfully) wide shoulders.
I cruised down the hilly road lined with country offices that seemed to go on forever. I finally took the left I'd calculated with the map tool and looked straight up, almost literally, at a monster climb. SIGH. I thought for sure that I'd get a break this close to the water. I continued on, picked up the main road and realized my water bottle was almost empty. I was very far from "home". I spotted a Chinese food place in the shopping center and decided to beg for water. Language barrier notwithstanding, the owner took pity on me and filled my bottle from a rickety tap. I prayed the water was potable.
I set off again. My left toe had a blister and my legs burned. My glutes were so spent that I was shuffling along and systemically I was starting to feel the impact of the effort. I ate my last Hammergel and tried to put that last hill out of my mind. Then, before I knew it, looming in the distance there it was - a seemingly endless ribbon of pain. I tucked my head down, checked my form and kicked it up. Mid-way up the hill I could hear my labored breath above the din of 80s rock. I could feel the burning in my glutes and aching quads. I started to give in to the pain by letting the anguish seep into my mind. Then, I caught myself. I WANT THIS. I have been obsessed with getting back to my long run routine since my last bout of tendonitis. I thought about Das Boot and how that first 17 minute run was my old walking pace and how I felt like I'd never get back to normal. I decided then and there to be grateful for the burning and aching. To be grateful that I could push myself hard enough to feel this sort of pain. I smiled. The wind was picking up but I didn't care. I felt grateful. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to be running and grateful that both my feet seemed happy to oblige.
I crested the hill and saw Parole come in to view. AH YES, happy hour was mere minutes away. I checked my watch. Right on time, I would arrive by 5p.
I cruised up to the restaurant and stretched. Ken was just getting there and greeted me with a fresh change of clothes. I sat at the bar eating fish tacos, drinking sangria and basking in the glow of a long run, well done. I CAN. I DID and I AM GRATEFUL.
I am forever changing up my long run routes to ward off the ennui of turning my legs over a billion times for a couple of hours each weekend. This week, I decided I'd do a destination run. Circle a new neighborhood and then end at happy hour! Two missions accomplished and delicious fish tacos waiting at the end.
The day was sunny and nice. 55 and low winds. I set out. I chose a route that seemed hilly but not too terrible. BOY was I wrong! The first hill I coasted down made me worry. I knew that when I turned around to go back, that hill would be a killer AND it was close to the finish which meant I'd be spent. I put that thought out of my mind and kept my focus on the road - a sort of busy one with (thankfully) wide shoulders.
I cruised down the hilly road lined with country offices that seemed to go on forever. I finally took the left I'd calculated with the map tool and looked straight up, almost literally, at a monster climb. SIGH. I thought for sure that I'd get a break this close to the water. I continued on, picked up the main road and realized my water bottle was almost empty. I was very far from "home". I spotted a Chinese food place in the shopping center and decided to beg for water. Language barrier notwithstanding, the owner took pity on me and filled my bottle from a rickety tap. I prayed the water was potable.
I set off again. My left toe had a blister and my legs burned. My glutes were so spent that I was shuffling along and systemically I was starting to feel the impact of the effort. I ate my last Hammergel and tried to put that last hill out of my mind. Then, before I knew it, looming in the distance there it was - a seemingly endless ribbon of pain. I tucked my head down, checked my form and kicked it up. Mid-way up the hill I could hear my labored breath above the din of 80s rock. I could feel the burning in my glutes and aching quads. I started to give in to the pain by letting the anguish seep into my mind. Then, I caught myself. I WANT THIS. I have been obsessed with getting back to my long run routine since my last bout of tendonitis. I thought about Das Boot and how that first 17 minute run was my old walking pace and how I felt like I'd never get back to normal. I decided then and there to be grateful for the burning and aching. To be grateful that I could push myself hard enough to feel this sort of pain. I smiled. The wind was picking up but I didn't care. I felt grateful. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to be running and grateful that both my feet seemed happy to oblige.
I crested the hill and saw Parole come in to view. AH YES, happy hour was mere minutes away. I checked my watch. Right on time, I would arrive by 5p.
I cruised up to the restaurant and stretched. Ken was just getting there and greeted me with a fresh change of clothes. I sat at the bar eating fish tacos, drinking sangria and basking in the glow of a long run, well done. I CAN. I DID and I AM GRATEFUL.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Happier Feet
I am reading a book called, "Every Woman's Guide to Foot Pain Relief. The New Science of Healthy Feet." by a Katy Bowman a physical therapist and apparently a very smart and practical woman.
Things I've learned about my feet:
Things I've learned about my feet:
- They should be more like fingers. Mine are more like bricks
- Foot alignment is important - especially if you tend to "kick" one foot out more than the other
- You need to strengthen your feet
- Flip flops are the devil
There are even exercises to "train" your feet so they are healthy and more functional. So giving it a go, I tried a few. My conclusion? I have the couch potato equivalent of feet - no wonder they get injured. My remedy? What I always do - get 'er done!
I started with walking correctly. Believe it or not this means pointing my feet straight ahead and standing up straight. This is very hard if you have not been doing it. Minute changes to pelvic position and foot alignment left me SORE. Like" ran a few miles", sore. Seriously. Who knew? But it does explain a lot. I have decided to delve deeper into this foot book and try a few other things.
But the net of all of it is, my feet seem .... happier! I have been able to run (albeit it painfully slowly) every other day for an hour. This is no small feat (pun totally intended)! I really had to work up to it.
Posterior Tibial Tendonitis has left me with one lasting truth. I will always be injured, it's just a matter of degree. Getting "better" means running without lasting pain. This is about all I can hope for now. It's ok. I have no races planned and I may never actually race hard again. But being able to run, truly RUN and lose myself in the luxurious nothingness of it cannot be beat. I relish the time and am happy to be out on the road.
I am now a religious wearer of the orthotics. I have grown to love them despite my aversion to anything that "helps" the feet. They do help. They help me to stay aligned properly, particularly when I get tired and my form suffers. They help keep me solid and keep my feet from traveling. SO they are a staple now despite it all.
I have a goal to run 13.1 miles by the fall. I'd love to run a fall half marathon. My personal trainer is on the case. He is on board with the plan and frankly, it will be nice to have a goal again. Not that I am not enjoying just doing "stuff".
At any rate, the feet are happier and so am I. I ice, stretch, ice, stretch and ice again..... but alas, I am making more progress every day. That's a good thing! Count the blessings, no matter how small. Progress is progress even if it's running one minute more than I did last time.
Slow and steady wins the ultimate race. I'm OK with that.
I started with walking correctly. Believe it or not this means pointing my feet straight ahead and standing up straight. This is very hard if you have not been doing it. Minute changes to pelvic position and foot alignment left me SORE. Like" ran a few miles", sore. Seriously. Who knew? But it does explain a lot. I have decided to delve deeper into this foot book and try a few other things.
But the net of all of it is, my feet seem .... happier! I have been able to run (albeit it painfully slowly) every other day for an hour. This is no small feat (pun totally intended)! I really had to work up to it.
Posterior Tibial Tendonitis has left me with one lasting truth. I will always be injured, it's just a matter of degree. Getting "better" means running without lasting pain. This is about all I can hope for now. It's ok. I have no races planned and I may never actually race hard again. But being able to run, truly RUN and lose myself in the luxurious nothingness of it cannot be beat. I relish the time and am happy to be out on the road.
I am now a religious wearer of the orthotics. I have grown to love them despite my aversion to anything that "helps" the feet. They do help. They help me to stay aligned properly, particularly when I get tired and my form suffers. They help keep me solid and keep my feet from traveling. SO they are a staple now despite it all.
I have a goal to run 13.1 miles by the fall. I'd love to run a fall half marathon. My personal trainer is on the case. He is on board with the plan and frankly, it will be nice to have a goal again. Not that I am not enjoying just doing "stuff".
At any rate, the feet are happier and so am I. I ice, stretch, ice, stretch and ice again..... but alas, I am making more progress every day. That's a good thing! Count the blessings, no matter how small. Progress is progress even if it's running one minute more than I did last time.
Slow and steady wins the ultimate race. I'm OK with that.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
End of an Era
My house has been on the market for just about two weeks now. As I walk through each room, perfectly neat and neutralized it feels as if I am in someone else's house. Don't get me wrong, I like the colors just fine (in a Picasso's blue period sort of way) and they serve the very important purpose of helping me subtract my preferences and "self" from the environment. The softer colors and less offensive hues are also meant to attract a larger number of buyers. Here's hoping! After four months of back breaking work, it's nice to know that all of this DIY will be appreciated by someone.
I stood at the top of the stairs yesterday, where I've stood many times before, looking down on the foyer reflecting back to twelve years ago just after I moved in. The last box had been left in the appropriate room, the movers were gone and the house was silent. Light streamed in from the skylight and lit up the loft. I remember thinking, "This is mine. I can do whatever I want." Flash forward to yesterday, months of agonizing primer, paint, repeat; repairs and yard work later and I found myself thinking, "I hope the new owner loves living here as much as I have." I also thought, "It's the end of an era".
This past year has seemed like the end of a couple of eras. I resisted this for a long time. I am not a person who is comfortable with change. It's not that I am stuck in my ways or don't want to evolve, it's just that I get used to things as they are. Like a lot of people I guess. Selling a house I've lived in for twelve years (my first house) and moving to a rental is truly the end of an era. I've had so many great times here, some heartache too but this house has been a witness to a decade of growth and regeneration. I started a business here, became a serious athlete here, fell in love with the man of my dreams here and sat many nights on my deck underneath the stars, sipping wine and just being grateful for being here.
It's also the end of a running era. The end of trying to come back to an athlete that I will never be again. The end of striving to keep up with an old version of myself that no longer serves my new trajectory and what I want to have moving forward. I took myself off the racing circuit and am taking the time to let my injury heal, work on my mechanics and find other interests that will light me up as much as running fast used to. I look back on my athletic self of 2006 and marvel! I am thankful I could experience that sort of success on the physical plane. I hope to run distance again but am fairly certain that it won't be at those same speeds. So another era ends but with that ending there is a new beginning. An opportunity to experience new things and grow in new ways.
Getting better doesn't have to mean getting faster (though I am faster than I've ever been on the bike). It does have to mean that the experience is fulfilling no matter what.
I am looking forward to renting, having the freedom to move if we need or want to, having a little more money to travel with or save. I am also looking forward to taking my time as I get back into the rhythm of running. No need to rush, push or try to chase the ghost of the runner I was. I get to take my time. Enjoy the process and be open to the possibilities.
When I decided that the experience was more important than the things my life shifted. What seemed so valuable once, isn't really any more. End of an era. I think I'm OK with it. In fact, I think I can even welcome it.
I stood at the top of the stairs yesterday, where I've stood many times before, looking down on the foyer reflecting back to twelve years ago just after I moved in. The last box had been left in the appropriate room, the movers were gone and the house was silent. Light streamed in from the skylight and lit up the loft. I remember thinking, "This is mine. I can do whatever I want." Flash forward to yesterday, months of agonizing primer, paint, repeat; repairs and yard work later and I found myself thinking, "I hope the new owner loves living here as much as I have." I also thought, "It's the end of an era".
This past year has seemed like the end of a couple of eras. I resisted this for a long time. I am not a person who is comfortable with change. It's not that I am stuck in my ways or don't want to evolve, it's just that I get used to things as they are. Like a lot of people I guess. Selling a house I've lived in for twelve years (my first house) and moving to a rental is truly the end of an era. I've had so many great times here, some heartache too but this house has been a witness to a decade of growth and regeneration. I started a business here, became a serious athlete here, fell in love with the man of my dreams here and sat many nights on my deck underneath the stars, sipping wine and just being grateful for being here.
It's also the end of a running era. The end of trying to come back to an athlete that I will never be again. The end of striving to keep up with an old version of myself that no longer serves my new trajectory and what I want to have moving forward. I took myself off the racing circuit and am taking the time to let my injury heal, work on my mechanics and find other interests that will light me up as much as running fast used to. I look back on my athletic self of 2006 and marvel! I am thankful I could experience that sort of success on the physical plane. I hope to run distance again but am fairly certain that it won't be at those same speeds. So another era ends but with that ending there is a new beginning. An opportunity to experience new things and grow in new ways.
Getting better doesn't have to mean getting faster (though I am faster than I've ever been on the bike). It does have to mean that the experience is fulfilling no matter what.
I am looking forward to renting, having the freedom to move if we need or want to, having a little more money to travel with or save. I am also looking forward to taking my time as I get back into the rhythm of running. No need to rush, push or try to chase the ghost of the runner I was. I get to take my time. Enjoy the process and be open to the possibilities.
When I decided that the experience was more important than the things my life shifted. What seemed so valuable once, isn't really any more. End of an era. I think I'm OK with it. In fact, I think I can even welcome it.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Gaining Momentum
My decision to drop off the racing circuit this year has been a good one. As soon as I decided not to race, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I cannot do anything half-assed. I never have been able to. So, declaring that I wouldn't race because I knew that I'd push myself past reasonable, healthy limits to compete is both humbling and self-aware.
Know thyself.
I also know this about myself. I am tenacious and willing to work hard for what I want. I am run 5.8 (when I used to breeze through at 7.5 or 8.0) miles per hour for two months, tenacious. Try every available shoe, sock and distance combination, tenacious. Slog through grueling strength and plyometrics training, tenacious. I have been doing the work to rehabilitate my ankle/foot and it seems that this investment is paying off - FINALLY.
On Saturday, a beautiful day in Annapolis, MD, I ran my "long" run. This was a one hour run on a course I call "Tour de Annapolis". It takes me over a bridge with a stunning view of City Dock, past the Naval Academy and back down a lonely stretch of Rowe Blvd until I make it back to town. It's a "nothing" course for me typically. Something I'd run on a week night just before it gets dark. But not having run outside in months or for more than 45 minutes at a time, this was a monumental run.
I suited up. Orthotics, Balga socks, sunglasses and iPod. I felt nervous but excited. Once out, there was no other choice but to run back in. I couldn't stop the treadmill and just get off. I had to keep running or risk freezing in the wind. I set out. I turned the corner and headed up the hill. As I passed my gym, I looked at my watch - 7:45. The gym is a mile away from my house. SHIT. I need to slow down. Oddly, my cardiovascular fitness was great - all that break neck, crazy ass cycling at the bike store put me in a very good position. I slowed down. I told myself, you still have the better part of an hour to go. Take it easy. Keep your form.
I made my way through town and eventually crested the arch of the bridge. I looked out over the Bay and sighed. I could feel my legs beneath me and my heart ticking over the beats. I love this run. I love the view. I love being outside, I even love the wind in my face. I love everything about it.
I monitored my foot - all systems go. I kept the pace and kept moving through downtown. I dodged people and dogs. I dodged strollers and people meandering between shops. I used to curse them but frankly, I was happy to be running outside. I didn't care. I headed for the lonely stretch. I could feel my ankle but everything seemed fine. Past the St. John's Boathouse and around the corner, I headed back to town. A stiff headwind met me on the way back but for once I relished it.
1:07 later, I reached my front door. I stretched. I relaxed and basked in the glow of a run well done. No pain, no issues apart from a couple of blisters from new shoes. I was this day, a runner again. I may not have run my usual pace but I was out there RUNNING.
I felt free. There was no race hanging over my head, no time to keep or workout to record. I ran just for fun. Just for the joy of it all and I loved it. I stretched a little more before I went inside and got on with the rest of the day. I knew I'd be sore and achy the next day but I didn't care. I had the world's biggest smile on my face.
Blessings, no matter how small should always be counted. If you can run, that's a blessing. That run is one I will definitely count.
Know thyself.
I also know this about myself. I am tenacious and willing to work hard for what I want. I am run 5.8 (when I used to breeze through at 7.5 or 8.0) miles per hour for two months, tenacious. Try every available shoe, sock and distance combination, tenacious. Slog through grueling strength and plyometrics training, tenacious. I have been doing the work to rehabilitate my ankle/foot and it seems that this investment is paying off - FINALLY.
On Saturday, a beautiful day in Annapolis, MD, I ran my "long" run. This was a one hour run on a course I call "Tour de Annapolis". It takes me over a bridge with a stunning view of City Dock, past the Naval Academy and back down a lonely stretch of Rowe Blvd until I make it back to town. It's a "nothing" course for me typically. Something I'd run on a week night just before it gets dark. But not having run outside in months or for more than 45 minutes at a time, this was a monumental run.
I suited up. Orthotics, Balga socks, sunglasses and iPod. I felt nervous but excited. Once out, there was no other choice but to run back in. I couldn't stop the treadmill and just get off. I had to keep running or risk freezing in the wind. I set out. I turned the corner and headed up the hill. As I passed my gym, I looked at my watch - 7:45. The gym is a mile away from my house. SHIT. I need to slow down. Oddly, my cardiovascular fitness was great - all that break neck, crazy ass cycling at the bike store put me in a very good position. I slowed down. I told myself, you still have the better part of an hour to go. Take it easy. Keep your form.
I made my way through town and eventually crested the arch of the bridge. I looked out over the Bay and sighed. I could feel my legs beneath me and my heart ticking over the beats. I love this run. I love the view. I love being outside, I even love the wind in my face. I love everything about it.
I monitored my foot - all systems go. I kept the pace and kept moving through downtown. I dodged people and dogs. I dodged strollers and people meandering between shops. I used to curse them but frankly, I was happy to be running outside. I didn't care. I headed for the lonely stretch. I could feel my ankle but everything seemed fine. Past the St. John's Boathouse and around the corner, I headed back to town. A stiff headwind met me on the way back but for once I relished it.
1:07 later, I reached my front door. I stretched. I relaxed and basked in the glow of a run well done. No pain, no issues apart from a couple of blisters from new shoes. I was this day, a runner again. I may not have run my usual pace but I was out there RUNNING.
I felt free. There was no race hanging over my head, no time to keep or workout to record. I ran just for fun. Just for the joy of it all and I loved it. I stretched a little more before I went inside and got on with the rest of the day. I knew I'd be sore and achy the next day but I didn't care. I had the world's biggest smile on my face.
Blessings, no matter how small should always be counted. If you can run, that's a blessing. That run is one I will definitely count.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Recipe
In 2004, I started teaching myself to cook. Tired of eating turkey sandwiches and tortilla chips and in an attempt to fuel what was then a very steep ramp up to multiple distance triathlons and running races, I tried some new recipes. It's funny about recipes, even though they are exact in many cases, how you combine the ingredients and at what time is very pivotal to the texture and taste of the dish. Putting in spice too early or too late can make a dish bitter or bland. Not sifting the dry ingredients before combining them can mean grainy, odd tasting muffins. The same rules apply to recovering from an injury. The ingredients for healing don't necessarily combine for optimum success. It takes some experimentation.
For the past couple of months, I have been in active recovery and rebuild mode. The boot has long since been stored on a shelf in the closet (where it will hopefully remain forever). I have been taking it easy. Dipping a toe into running, going very, very slowly and adding in some hiking to mix things up. I am not sure yet how this recipe will turn out but it seems like I have the right ingredients to get the dish right and get back on the path (literally) to healthy, pain free running.
First and foremost was the diagnosis and then prognosis. While the former seemed dire, the latter seemed somewhat positive. Posterior tibial tendonitis is tricky. Mechanical deficiencies in the core, glutes and vastus medialis (that small quad muscle inside the knee) make it difficult to fix if you don't address the underlying problems. The prognosis, "wear your orthotics and you'll be able to run just fine." seemed somewhat encouraging until I actually tried it and felt that same nagging pain. So I've decided that a multi-faceted approach is best and this is how I've laid it out:
Strengthening the feet: The only shoes that do not bring nagging pain or discomfort seem to be the New Balance Minimus shoes that I bought just before my injury. I run on the treadmill absolutely barefoot for about 7 minutes and then put them on. I then finish up my run in those shoes. My feet are sometimes sore but in that "good sore" way that means progress and not break down. I've run in my orthotics several times and each time I felt that old familiar sensitivity and eventually pain that wasn't severe but enough to make me stop. I am a firm believer in building up and not making "lazy" when it comes to any muscle so I guess this is just proof positive that these inserts aren't coming to the rescue like I thought they might.
So I've been experimenting with shoes. Running in my hiking boots - no pain. Running in a "higher heel profile" not bad but heavy and my feet aren't as nimble. Combining those shoes with the orthotics - painful! It's again, finding the right combination of ingredients.
I stretch my feet, do sideways "crab" walks and do what I call the "ballerina" workout - flexing my feet, rolling up on my toes and standing on the balls of my feet for 10-15 seconds at a time. I will also do some plyometrics (jumping up on a small block) if I haven't done that in personal training sometime during the week.
Personal training for flexibility and strength: Two times per week. I work with a personal trainer to strengthen my glutes, legs and core. We also do some plyometrics and stretching and he keeps close tabs on what works and doesn't in terms of my foot pain.
Sport specific training: Indoor trainer workout: High and low intensity. I do one very high intensity workout at the bike store that focuses on building leg strength and endurance. Then I do an easier, long workout on the weekends where I focus on really building my hip flexors and using an efficient pedal stroke. Strong hip flexors take the pounding off the feet and allow me to "lift" my leg up and put it down during the run stride instead of just "dropping" it and pounding.
New to the recipe - Crossfit: Having heard so many testimonials about the benefits of Crossfit, I decided to join the Foundations class and see what it was all about. After the first couple of "real" workouts, I was hooked. If ever there was a class that focuses on your core and building a strong set of glutes and legs, this class is it. Plus, the intensity keeps your heart rate high and helps burn fat so for me a double dip!
The Hike/Run: I took up hiking to realize a "bucket" list item of mine - hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim. This is an arduous undertaking even for someone as fit as I am. With a foot that is not really dependable, "practicing" hiking is essential.My tri coach says, "Nothing builds run fitness like running." I am applying that same theory to hiking. From a cardiovascular perspective, I don't foresee any issues. I do foresee getting my body used to making steep ascents and keeping my back loose. I've been combining these strenuous hikes with very SLOW running. I don't run faster than 5.8 mph at this point.
The result? Well, the soup is still simmering on the running front but I am more fit than I've been in many years (and a couple pounds lighter). I am stronger, I have actual muscles now and am able to work parts of my legs and glutes that I've neglected for years. My foot tends to be sore on some occasions after a run and not on others. I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly what causes the soreness apart from my experimental footwear. It seems rather random. But there is no swelling and the tendon is not "hot".
I ice and stretch more than I've done before. I also RECOVER more. If I am exhausted, I rest. This is new for me. I am used to pushing myself on no matter what. My foot will not tolerate that now so I have to be more mindful of when I need to rest.
Perhaps my "recipe" all along has had too much of one ingredient and I've somehow made that strength a weakness (like too much pepper in the chili). I have not run more than 45 minutes in months and though I miss those long contemplative runs, I do not miss "training". In fact, I am not racing at all this year - on purpose. I have not signed up for a race and I don't intend to. I intend to have fun and see where having fun and trying a new recipe takes me.
Will I ever be back to those two hour runs? I don't know. I hope so. But I hope to take them in a new direction like trail running. Like the hike/run. Maybe I'll just hike instead of run, who knows. But what is becoming clear to me is that this new recipe has more flavor, depth and complexity than it ever has before and the joy that is going into making it has a special flavor all its own. It makes me happy to be alive and grateful that I can give it all I have and do it again the next week.
Until my second round with this tendon injury, I took for granted how important having a completely healthy body really is. For those with chronic pain, knee, back or other debilitating injuries, I now know your pain in some small sense. You never know what you will get. I have good "foot" days and not so good foot days but I am thankful that I can still do 90% of the activities I love. Everything is a blessing if you are willing to see it that way.
So for now, the soup simmers and the jury is still out but the recipe already has a delicious aroma that is equal parts variety, complexity and sheer joy.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
If the shoe fits.....
I've been in physical therapy for two weeks now and it's been tough. There has been sweat inducing pain, discussions about stability and at least three "shoe" tests.
First, the numbers. Apparently the posterior tendon has a flex range of about 8% over and above what is typical. My tendon was rotating about 14% given my defunct heels (genetic shape and slant that I can do nothing about) and the partial droop of my arch. My physical therapist said she'd never seen that much "play" and was really surprised that I hadn't experienced a rupture. Me too given those stats.
Though I can do nothing about my genetics, there is much I can do to improve my flexibility, give my feet more support and in general create better foot mechanics. One way to do this is with custom orthotics. The process started with these paper mache looking strips that were wrapped around my feet. They hardened pretty quickly and immediately I was able to see the nature of my deficiency. One of the casts actually ROCKED back and forth a considerable amount. Sigh. This is what my foot is doing thousands of times per hour every time I run. No wonder my tendons are pissed off! The outcome of this exercise is to create a piece of plastic that will compensate for these deficiencies. The photo negative of the rocking cast. Seems like we'd have better technology this day and age. Something space age that could be inserted just under the skin and magically balance both feet. But alas, no. The human body is complicated.
The next step was to do a stability test pre-orthotics in all of my favorite running shoes. First up, the shoes I thought for sure would pass - the natural running, forefront gliding Newton's. NO SUCH LUCK. In fact, for my particular feet, the Newton's were the absolute worst possible shoe. According to my physical therapist, these shoes are where all of the trouble likely began.
In my particular case, the Newton's cause my feet to roll around even more than they do already! Plus, they are too wide. Newton does not make a narrow shoe - trust me I've complained. Unfortunately, I have very narrow feet! For a $175 running shoe, you should be able to have a narrow shoe in a decent color, that comes complete with matching socks, a cape and a super hero decal, but I digress. So the combination of the pitch of my body and feet forward, the resultant stress on the posterior tendon combined with the lack of stability, wobble and low profile heel, made the Newton's a disaster for my poor feet! Sad in some ways, but not really. These shoes are incredibly expensive and if I can fare better in less expensive kicks then I'm in!
Next up, the New Balance Miniumus series. The physical therapist tested me in the trail and regular running versions. The winner? The trail or most minimal version of that shoe was the absolute, most stable. The non-trail version was not far behind and she thinks once I get the orthotics, they should be ok too. A surprise of a different sort were the Brooks stability running shoes. I ran a marathon in shoes like these. The verdict? No go. They were almost as unstable as the Newton's. Crazy what you can learn in physical therapy.
The next card in this house of tendons was my back and core stability. Apparently I am unstable in general terms and not just in my running shoes. My core stabilizing muscles have apparently been on holiday and haven't returned. To draw them back and "wake them up" I have homework: Lie on the floor on my back with my thighs perpendicular to the floor. I have to push my thigh slightly forward creating a litte bit of resistence. First on one leg and then the other and finally with both. Hands flat on thighs, light resistance, don't shake. Check! This is supposed to help my back as well. A back, by the way, that I thought was in pretty good shape. No so much but that's a topic for another blog.
As far as the posterior tendon goes, I am almost ready to run again (with the orthotics, of course). In the meantime and ongoing there is "homework":
Wall Stretches: Stand with toes about 1-3 inches from the wall (knee/foot flexion dependent). Keep a neutral position and drop the knee forward to touch the wall. The stretch is felt in the heel and calf. Really, really felt!
Arch Lifts: Standing, roll feet upward toward the ceiling so the arches are as parallel to the floor as possible. Do this 20 times. Minimal roll to the outside of the foot or lightly supinated. Don't roll up onto the ball of the feet.
Arch Lifts part deux: Standing lift calves and heels up and roll onto the balls of the feet. Not like a standard calf raise where the calves do the heavy lifting but more like a supination of the feet with a finish on the balls of the feet.
I've learned in physical therapy that the posterior tendon is both delicate and tough. It is the central theme in the foot and lower leg and any irritation or weakness will severely disrupt your ability to walk let alone run. Looking back over my years of running and running shoes, I never really encountered so severe an issue until I started using more high tech shoes. Nothing against Newton, I think they have a fine concept for a lot of people but for those of us who are mechanically deficient, their shoes may be a disasterous choice. The devil is in the details as they say.
For me, it's back to basics. I will give the natural New Balance shoes a try and see what happens. At least I know they are stable and won't likely exacerbate my existing injury. I may need to size up to be able to accommodate the orthotic but that's ok. What I want more than anything is to run again pain free. I am willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Homework, sure. New shoes, fine. Until you can't walk or run without pain, you don't realize how much you take your basic mobility for granted and what you are willing to do to get it back. I want to hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim. I want to hike, period and be able to walk three miles for dinner. I want to be able to run more than fifty steps before my ankle hurts. I want to be mindful now that being able to do any of this without pain and effort is a blessing and not a right. Thank heavens for physical therapists and their dedication to making us all more mechanically correct. But the real effort lies in maintaining that investment throughout the journey.
First, the numbers. Apparently the posterior tendon has a flex range of about 8% over and above what is typical. My tendon was rotating about 14% given my defunct heels (genetic shape and slant that I can do nothing about) and the partial droop of my arch. My physical therapist said she'd never seen that much "play" and was really surprised that I hadn't experienced a rupture. Me too given those stats.
Though I can do nothing about my genetics, there is much I can do to improve my flexibility, give my feet more support and in general create better foot mechanics. One way to do this is with custom orthotics. The process started with these paper mache looking strips that were wrapped around my feet. They hardened pretty quickly and immediately I was able to see the nature of my deficiency. One of the casts actually ROCKED back and forth a considerable amount. Sigh. This is what my foot is doing thousands of times per hour every time I run. No wonder my tendons are pissed off! The outcome of this exercise is to create a piece of plastic that will compensate for these deficiencies. The photo negative of the rocking cast. Seems like we'd have better technology this day and age. Something space age that could be inserted just under the skin and magically balance both feet. But alas, no. The human body is complicated.
The next step was to do a stability test pre-orthotics in all of my favorite running shoes. First up, the shoes I thought for sure would pass - the natural running, forefront gliding Newton's. NO SUCH LUCK. In fact, for my particular feet, the Newton's were the absolute worst possible shoe. According to my physical therapist, these shoes are where all of the trouble likely began.
In my particular case, the Newton's cause my feet to roll around even more than they do already! Plus, they are too wide. Newton does not make a narrow shoe - trust me I've complained. Unfortunately, I have very narrow feet! For a $175 running shoe, you should be able to have a narrow shoe in a decent color, that comes complete with matching socks, a cape and a super hero decal, but I digress. So the combination of the pitch of my body and feet forward, the resultant stress on the posterior tendon combined with the lack of stability, wobble and low profile heel, made the Newton's a disaster for my poor feet! Sad in some ways, but not really. These shoes are incredibly expensive and if I can fare better in less expensive kicks then I'm in!
Next up, the New Balance Miniumus series. The physical therapist tested me in the trail and regular running versions. The winner? The trail or most minimal version of that shoe was the absolute, most stable. The non-trail version was not far behind and she thinks once I get the orthotics, they should be ok too. A surprise of a different sort were the Brooks stability running shoes. I ran a marathon in shoes like these. The verdict? No go. They were almost as unstable as the Newton's. Crazy what you can learn in physical therapy.
The next card in this house of tendons was my back and core stability. Apparently I am unstable in general terms and not just in my running shoes. My core stabilizing muscles have apparently been on holiday and haven't returned. To draw them back and "wake them up" I have homework: Lie on the floor on my back with my thighs perpendicular to the floor. I have to push my thigh slightly forward creating a litte bit of resistence. First on one leg and then the other and finally with both. Hands flat on thighs, light resistance, don't shake. Check! This is supposed to help my back as well. A back, by the way, that I thought was in pretty good shape. No so much but that's a topic for another blog.
As far as the posterior tendon goes, I am almost ready to run again (with the orthotics, of course). In the meantime and ongoing there is "homework":
Wall Stretches: Stand with toes about 1-3 inches from the wall (knee/foot flexion dependent). Keep a neutral position and drop the knee forward to touch the wall. The stretch is felt in the heel and calf. Really, really felt!
Arch Lifts: Standing, roll feet upward toward the ceiling so the arches are as parallel to the floor as possible. Do this 20 times. Minimal roll to the outside of the foot or lightly supinated. Don't roll up onto the ball of the feet.
Arch Lifts part deux: Standing lift calves and heels up and roll onto the balls of the feet. Not like a standard calf raise where the calves do the heavy lifting but more like a supination of the feet with a finish on the balls of the feet.
I've learned in physical therapy that the posterior tendon is both delicate and tough. It is the central theme in the foot and lower leg and any irritation or weakness will severely disrupt your ability to walk let alone run. Looking back over my years of running and running shoes, I never really encountered so severe an issue until I started using more high tech shoes. Nothing against Newton, I think they have a fine concept for a lot of people but for those of us who are mechanically deficient, their shoes may be a disasterous choice. The devil is in the details as they say.
For me, it's back to basics. I will give the natural New Balance shoes a try and see what happens. At least I know they are stable and won't likely exacerbate my existing injury. I may need to size up to be able to accommodate the orthotic but that's ok. What I want more than anything is to run again pain free. I am willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Homework, sure. New shoes, fine. Until you can't walk or run without pain, you don't realize how much you take your basic mobility for granted and what you are willing to do to get it back. I want to hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim. I want to hike, period and be able to walk three miles for dinner. I want to be able to run more than fifty steps before my ankle hurts. I want to be mindful now that being able to do any of this without pain and effort is a blessing and not a right. Thank heavens for physical therapists and their dedication to making us all more mechanically correct. But the real effort lies in maintaining that investment throughout the journey.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Good Mourning?
This past weekend I got to see a really good friend of mine that I don't get to see often. We met for coffee and chatted about life. She marveled at the boot and the fact that this is round two. We both talked about what the Universe might be trying to get across, what I could learn from all of this and the precise date when the boot would come off.
"You can still bike, right?" she asks. "Yeah but I haven't done much of that either." I sort of mumbled. She smiled and said, "Yeah, you have to grieve the loss of running first. Then you'll figure out that there is more to life that dashing through the streets on two feet." And as she said this I could feel her words resonate somewhere deep within me. She was right.
Since the boot went on, I've been largely uninspired to do much training at all. Typically, I'd bike 2-3 times per week with at least one of those rides being a hard tempo ride and the other specific to pedal stroke training. I have sort of shrugged them both off for the past couple of weeks. I do ride on the weekends now but only one day and half the time I used to. I had been marveling at my lackluster attitude and almost non-existent motivation to ride until I heard her utter those words.
Running is such a part of me that I am indeed grieving at the loss of it in my life. It is the stick by which I measure my athleticism. I am a runner first, I always have been. Running has delivered me from some of the worst moments of my life and delivered into some of the best. Running is moving meditation, a chance to compete and a way to push myself to the edge physically. Running is the metaphor for my life and I miss having that means of expression.
Today was the most perfect running day! I shuffled to the mailbox dragging the boot behind and sighed. By the time I am "healed", it will be spring. Summer running is not my thing - especially fat which I have a good chance of being given the weeks ahead. All this Fall running will slip right past and leave me with another season of wondering what might have been.
I think for the first time in my life, I am actually sort of depressed. Maybe because for once in my life it seems like my running life could well come to a close. That is something that is very painful for me. If I have to give up running, I will have to give up such a big part of who I think I am.
I have been lucky enough in my life not to have had to mourn much. Mourning is useful. It gives our pain a voice, our loss a purpose. It allows us the opportunity to reflect and determine how we will move forward, adapt and become stronger in the broken places. Despite whatever becomes of my running life, I will never be the same runner I was before I got injured. I wasn't the same runner after the last injury. I will always be different. I will have to adapt. If I can't run, I will have to determine what's next.
But I am new to mourning so I am not sure how it works. Should I be going through all the traditional "grieving" steps? Or will I just sort of feel unmotivated and uninterested for awhile? I am trying to give whatever this is the proper air time. My usual way is to just fix it and move on. Make it better and be off to the next thing. This time I just don't have the energy to do that. I suppose the teacher appears when the student is ready. I'll try to be open to the possibilities.
Nothing is confirmed. There is no unfortunate prognosis. I keep wearing the boot like some sort of storm trooper religion and awaiting that miraculous day in physical therapy when I can be pronounced mechanically sufficient.
Looking on the bright side, the swelling is gone, I can flex my foot to the inside a little bit more than I could before. The pain is also largely gone though the stiffness is still there.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was running barefoot with no pain. I wonder if it's a prophetic dream or if it's just my psyche's way of expressing its longing. Life is about defining and refining. I suppose that's the lesson in this. For now, I am still a runner. An injured runner but a runner until all avenues are exhausted.
Since the boot went on, I've been largely uninspired to do much training at all. Typically, I'd bike 2-3 times per week with at least one of those rides being a hard tempo ride and the other specific to pedal stroke training. I have sort of shrugged them both off for the past couple of weeks. I do ride on the weekends now but only one day and half the time I used to. I had been marveling at my lackluster attitude and almost non-existent motivation to ride until I heard her utter those words.
Running is such a part of me that I am indeed grieving at the loss of it in my life. It is the stick by which I measure my athleticism. I am a runner first, I always have been. Running has delivered me from some of the worst moments of my life and delivered into some of the best. Running is moving meditation, a chance to compete and a way to push myself to the edge physically. Running is the metaphor for my life and I miss having that means of expression.
Today was the most perfect running day! I shuffled to the mailbox dragging the boot behind and sighed. By the time I am "healed", it will be spring. Summer running is not my thing - especially fat which I have a good chance of being given the weeks ahead. All this Fall running will slip right past and leave me with another season of wondering what might have been.
I think for the first time in my life, I am actually sort of depressed. Maybe because for once in my life it seems like my running life could well come to a close. That is something that is very painful for me. If I have to give up running, I will have to give up such a big part of who I think I am.
I have been lucky enough in my life not to have had to mourn much. Mourning is useful. It gives our pain a voice, our loss a purpose. It allows us the opportunity to reflect and determine how we will move forward, adapt and become stronger in the broken places. Despite whatever becomes of my running life, I will never be the same runner I was before I got injured. I wasn't the same runner after the last injury. I will always be different. I will have to adapt. If I can't run, I will have to determine what's next.
But I am new to mourning so I am not sure how it works. Should I be going through all the traditional "grieving" steps? Or will I just sort of feel unmotivated and uninterested for awhile? I am trying to give whatever this is the proper air time. My usual way is to just fix it and move on. Make it better and be off to the next thing. This time I just don't have the energy to do that. I suppose the teacher appears when the student is ready. I'll try to be open to the possibilities.
Nothing is confirmed. There is no unfortunate prognosis. I keep wearing the boot like some sort of storm trooper religion and awaiting that miraculous day in physical therapy when I can be pronounced mechanically sufficient.
Looking on the bright side, the swelling is gone, I can flex my foot to the inside a little bit more than I could before. The pain is also largely gone though the stiffness is still there.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was running barefoot with no pain. I wonder if it's a prophetic dream or if it's just my psyche's way of expressing its longing. Life is about defining and refining. I suppose that's the lesson in this. For now, I am still a runner. An injured runner but a runner until all avenues are exhausted.
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