26 Or Bust!

It’s been longer than usual between posts this time. I’ve been using the time to find a bit of perspective after a new problem arose on Saturday.

Around mile 10 or 11 as we crossed over the Williamsburg bridge into Manhattan I felt a twinge in my left foot. The discomfort quickly worsened and I slowed to a walk. My hopes that walking a few minutes was all I needed were quickly gone as even a slow jog brought sharp pain.

There I was, walking through the Lower East Side in full running gear, complete with spandex pants and an oh-so-fashionable fuel belt, a bit fragrant from the 10 miles I’d already run and on the verge of tears. All I could think was how unfair it was that my other foot was now holding me back. I’d rested and iced as directed, cross-trained like mad, tried to stick to a slow pace and build the mileage back up slowly. Despite all that, I was back where I started in February—injured. Only this time, I was out of time. Just over four weeks from race day, I didn’t have time to go through all that again. I knew I wouldn’t have time to rest, to build up the mileage slowly, peak and taper before the marathon. I’d never be prepared to run 26.2 miles.

I had been so proud of myself for taking on, what was for me, a huge challenge. I committed myself to the program and tackled the training with vigor. I wasn’t deterred by the large fund-raising goal. I started this blog, writing posts regularly. I was getting stronger, faster and starting to calculate my marathon time goal. Now that was gone and I knew race day would find me walking a portion of the marathon.

I was furious, sad, disappointed, completely and utterly broken. 26 or bust I thought? Busted, it seemed.

I got to my apartment and before I even could unlock the door, the dam broke and I was sobbing. Hysterically sobbing.

After a good cry, lots of hugs and kisses and encouraging words from my patient and understanding boyfriend, I realized the biggest mistake I made. The whole way back everything in my mind started with me. I realized what a selfish jerk I was.

This isn’t about me, it has nothing to do with me. I felt like Scrooge at the moment he realizes the true meaning of the day before him. This race is about raising money for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. An organization which helps people battle cancer—from the researchers in labs to the patients undergoing treatments. The purpose of this entire undertaking was to do something for others, to be a part of something larger than myself and hopefully make a difference.

Somehow, somewhere along the way I’d lost sight of everything and thought only of myself. Now, I’m glad, in a way, that I’ve had the extra challenge of these injuries. They’ve forced me out of myself, to remember why I’m doing all of this. The pain I feel is nothing in comparison to what the people I’m trying to help must undergo. This extra difficulty has helped me regain the perspective I lost. The training is harder now, but it means so much more than ever. When I cross the finish line, it will be so much more important. I won’t care what time the clock says, simply that I made it and that with luck, the money I’ve raised will help someone else make it through, too.

Saturday’s run was cut short to only 10 miles instead of the prescribed 14. There was no sharp pain in my foot, but it did become a little sore as the run progressed. My gut reaction was to end the session with the rest of the team at 10 miles in hopes of not aggravating the tendonitis too much.

The most frustrating part was that other than my foot being sore, I was having a really good run. One of my teammates that I haven’t really met yet was also recovering from an injury and we found a pace that was perfect for both of us. We chatted our way around the park and the time went by quickly. I didn’t even mind the thought of running another five miles alone

Sunday found me at the gym on the bike for an hour and in the weight room for about 20 minutes. The upside was watching a pretty good Chris Cooper/Ryan Phillippe movie. The downside was, of course, that I wasn’t running.

Today, my foot has been a little sore making me leery of running much this week before Saturday’s group training session. I plan to hit the gym Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday mornings, but plan on challenging bike workouts with minimal running. The time off my foot will, hopefully, help bring down any inflammation and have me in good shape to add on a few miles this weekend.

Feeling this injury start to resurface is certainly not what I hoped for and is disappointing. It very well may mean never catching up to the team in mileage and being unprepared for the marathon. My main goal now is to keep the tendonitis in check so that I can run most of the marathon and walk the rest without pain. I set out to complete this marathon and I still plan to, no matter how long it takes.

Last Saturday was the first run that made me sincerely wonder what in the world I got myself into when I signed up to run a marathon.

You can safely add 10% to your mileage each week. Having covered 11 the week before, I should have added 1.1 miles to Saturday’s run. However, knowing I’m well behind the team in mileage and being a stubborn person, I made up my mind to add more. From the first steps I took, I was ready to stop, yet I went on to run just two blocks shy of 14 miles. That’s right. I didn’t just add two miles to my run, but instead nearly three. I can honestly say that I felt every single step I took and that I’m still sore, paying the price of my stupidity.

We ran from Union Street near Sixth Avenue in Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn bridge, across Manhattan to the West Side Highway and up to 34th Street and then turned, following the same route back to our starting point. Most people ran farther on to 54th Street or 72nd Street, doing 16 or more miles.

The view from the bridge was incredible, though the crowds on the way back were a bit frustrating. Along the West Side Highway it was windy keeping us cool. Other than the bridge the course was flat. The makings of a good run. Unfortunately, I was too tired to enjoy it and it took all my willpower to keep from stopping dead in my tracks. Honestly, had I not been signed on to Team in Training and had I not already raised over $3,000, I would never have kept going.

I reached 4th Avenue with two and a half blocks left to go, but I looked ahead and it was all uphill. I stopped cold. I had already run almost a mile further than I planned and knew I was past my limit for the day. Just walking those last two blocks was shear torture. On the phone with David afterwards, as I marched to get myself the most guilt-free bagel sandwich of my life, all I could do was laugh at the pain. I was actually giddy with exhaustion.

Sunday found me running errands and cooking instead of running as I needed a day to recover. Last night however, I hit the road after work and squeezed in 4.8 miles. Today I feel better than I did yesterday. My foot is a little tender, but not sore and I’ll be sure to ice it after practice tonight.

I plan to get one or two more runs/gym workouts in this week. Hopefully, it helps me be stronger and more prepared for this Saturday’s long run. With any luck, it’ll be easier than last week and I won’t spend the whole time wondering if I really did lose my mind committing to this.

This past Saturday was my first long run since my injury (peroneal tendonitis) at the beginning of February. What a comeback it was with a steady rain and a little lightning thrown in at the end. Despite the less than favorable weather, it felt great to be running again. Even as I tired near the end, I felt a runner’s high simply from knowing I was training again.

Although I’m behind in mileage, I took it easy with 11 miles to match my long distances of a month ago. The goal each week will be to add on two miles instead of only one. Hopefully, like this week, my foot will be fine and I’ll be able to quickly catch up to the team. It’s a slower start than I’d like, but I know I need to pace myself as there are six weeks until the race. That should be plenty of time to finish training, but only if I’m careful and avoid aggravating the tendonitis.

Slow progress or not, it’s good to be back.

After exactly a month of rest, relaxation, riding the stationery bike more than I’ve ever wanted and tearing up when I saw others able to run, I’m finally back to training. Last night was my triumphant return to the team, though I didn’t time it well as it was the night of Test #2, our second timed mile tests. The first test was in mid-January and my mile times were faster than I expected at 8:01 and 8:10. Since then, Tuesday trainings were dedicated to hill workouts to make us stronger, smarter about pacing and therefore faster. In theory Test #2 times should be faster than the first go round, though for me they were understandably not.

As my first run since getting my new orthotics last week, my coach advised I just run the course at a slow leisurely pace and definitely not push it. With no interest in aggravating the tendonitis, I took heed and ran the 3 mile course nice and slow. I’m happy to report all went well and I’m looking forward to another short run tomorrow morning. Saturday will be my first long run and I plan to take that slow as well. Listening to my body, my foot especially, will be key and let me know when it’s time to call it quits that day. Hopefully, I can run 11 miles, as that’s where I was in training when injury intervened.

If all goes well, I’ll try to add about two miles each week to catch up to the group. In the event of pain, I’ll take it easy, even walk if need be. At the end of the day, I’m not running this marathon to win (I’m at least 5 minutes per mile too slow to even be a contender). All I’ve ever wanted out of this is to say I crossed the finish line and support a good cause along the way. Should that mean walking part of the way and taking 6 hours, so be it. On April 26th, come hell or high water, I’m going 26.2 miles…or bust.

Per doctor’s orders, I’ve been taking it easy on the running to give my peroneal tendonitis time to heal. I’m happy to report that any lingering discomfort in my foot is almost completely gone. To keep in shape, I’ve been spending more time than I ever thought I would on the stationary bike. It’s rather exciting to go well over 20 miles and it’s fun to catch up on Law & Order reruns on USA (it’s much easier to watch TV on the bike than on the treadmill), but my new friend the stationary bike definitely does not take the place of running.

Until now, I hadn’t realized how much I had come to enjoy running. It’s relaxing on the long easy runs and makes me feel incredibly energized. Just going five miles in the morning before work makes me feel like I’ve accomplished so much. Every time I walk into the gym it’s a bit hard to resist the treadmill and I’m a little jealous of all the runners I pass. Plus, it really does take some time to build a tolerance to the bike seat. It’s not bad for 30 minutes, but after 90 minutes the next day is a little sore.

Oddly enough, I actually find the bike harder than the running. I spent the last two months running, strengthening my muscles for that specific exercise and building up a tolerance for that motion over long miles. Suddenly, I’m using all my muscles in a different way and it’s taking some getting used to. The first week was the toughest, no surprise, and I’m starting to see an improvement by being able to bike at a higher resistance level and to go greater distances. I’m settling into the groove of the bike and each day look forward to the challenge of pushing harder than before, the same mindset I’d adopted for running.

While the biking is growing on me, I am looking forward to my new orthotics next week and getting back to running. I feel confident that I can ease back into the program and catch up to the team in plenty of time. Still, I may have to squeeze in one long cross-training session a week on the bike to keep up my stamina and catch up on missed TV!

As if training to run 26.2 miles wasn’t hard enough, a kink has been thrown in the works. It turns out that I’ve developed peroneal tendinitis in my right foot and can’t hit the pavement for a few weeks. How did this come to be? As per usual when things are amiss in my life, it was my own fault.

After an easy 5-mile run last Sunday, my right foot was killing me, to the point that I was limping later in the day. I thought it was perhaps because of the new sneakers I was wearing outside for the first time. Remembering the R.I.C.E. (rest, ice, compression, elevation) rule from middle school health class, I was sure to sit down and ice it that night and the the following morning.

Monday brought no relief from the pain and I limped to work on the verge of tears. I was sure something very serious was wrong with my foot and that I’d have to abandon my marathon quest. It was too much to think that I had worked so hard and raised so much money, yet would have to just walk away from it all. I immediately called my podiatrist and got an appointment for Wednesday.

It didn’t take long for her to figure out what went awry. My orthotics were old, worn out and ready to retire. At the beginning of training I briefly wondered if I needed new orthotics made. Foolishly, I thought they had been refurbished more recently than they had and that I’d be fine. My sole moment of sound judgment was choosing not to run through the pain. My doctor assured me that had I tried to keep running, I would have likely broken my foot. Egads. Casts of my feet were made and new orthotics are in the works. In three weeks they will be done and I should be able to run again.

In the meantime, there will be no more running for this girl. I get to look forward to three weeks of cross-training—stationary bike, swimming, anything that doesn’t stress that foot. My coach told me to keep my training sessions to the same length of time our long runs would be. So, if a 13 mile run is scheduled, maybe 2.25 hours for me, then I need to go to the gym and do a 2.25-hour aerobic workout. Fun times.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not too upset with how things turned out. Is it ideal? Of course not, but at least I didn’t break my foot. As long as I’m careful, I’ll be able to stay in shape and catch up with the rest of the team in a few weeks. On April 26th, I will still cross that finish line if only a little slower than planned.

Constantly, I remind myself of the people I’ve met through Team In Training who have completed marathons while undergoing treatment for cancer. If they can do it, surely I can manage with a bum foot.

Up the hill. Down the hill. Up the hill. Down the hill. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Tuesday’s workout was ten rounds of sprinting up one of Prospect Park’s hills and shuffling down at a recovery pace. Ten long and painful rounds. The first time up, I started off too fast and barely thought I’d finish. After a few repetitions, I figured out the best pace to push myself hard the whole way without having to slow down at the top. By the sixth sprint, my legs felt like Jello when I turned to jog down. Eight reps had me ready to beg the coaches for mercy. As for that tenth and final push, well there wasn’t enough oxygen in the entire park to satisfy my lungs. I actually started breathing so hard that I panicked and found myself borderline hyperventilating the last few yards. Note to self—freaking out does not help you breathe. Elizabeth found that yoga breathing of shorter breaths helped her solve the same problem, so I’m going to give that a try next time.

The run had me thinking about the article from the New York Times that I posted a few weeks ago. On our recovery jogs down the mountain (that’s what it felt like near the end), we started talking about what each of us focused on to keep ourselves going on the way up. Some of us watched a point past the end of the course. Some focused on their elbows or arm swing instead of their feet. Most of us found we repeated a phrase in our heads. Maybe it was a piece of a song, part of a chant from yoga, or just a short string of words we made up. Amanda remembered a past coach told her he always said “I’m a runner” in his head as he ran, which we all found helped us out. It is not about what your saying, but simply about the beat of the phrase matching the rhythm of your feet. Quickly, you find yourself focused only on the words flying through your mind instead of your thighs burning or your lungs gasping. The chant takes over and your body just follows. For lack of a better way to put it, it’s a moving meditation.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want every training session to be sprinting hill repeats. However, it was a great demonstration of mind over matter. It doesn’t hurt either to know that the pain was worth it as it was a training session designed to make you stronger. The Nashville course is rumored to be filled with hills, so I guess I should just get used to it and be thankful for the extra endurance.

In September I started running. Only as far as Avenue P would my outings take me before I would head back home. On my way out to that turning point I knew that Coney Island—land of the Cyclone, Mermaid Parade, and a motley crowd of Brooklynites escaping summer’s heat—lay before me. A mere five miles away was a view of the ocean and a sense of freedom from the city’s concrete walls. At the time though, those few miles seemed a gauntlet I could only dream of conquering. Nonetheless, I set a goal to someday run to Coney Island and back.

On Sunday, I ran to the land of mermaids and home again. To climb onto the boardwalk and see the water stretching out in front of me was the most exhilarating moment of my training so far. I traveled down that rickety old boardwalk till I reached Stillwell Avenue, feeling triumphant. In the cold January air, the familiar landscape seemed different and new. In place of the tan, oiled men in Speedos sitting like kings on the beach, were people bundled up in parkas. No children ran by me, sticky with ice cream and crying for one more ride in Astroland. Instead strollers were pushed along with their cargos hidden under bundles of blankets. There were no flashing neon signs, no screams from the Cylcone, no smell of hot dogs and funnel cake. In the quiet, Coney Island felt like it belonged to me alone.

It was also a day of other, less exciting experiences. As my first lone long run (10.7 miles) I had to carry water and a snack for a mid-run energy boost. For hydration, my only option was carrying a hand held water bottle on a day that I couldn’t find my gloves. On top of that the motion of the water sloshing would throw off my tempo, so I had to swing the arm with the bottle as little as possible. The frustration prompted me to buy a fuel belt yesterday. While a bit ridiculous looking, it should be an improvement as both arms will be free to swing, the weight of the water will be evenly distributed on both hips, and the small bottles will minimize the motion of liquids inside. A chocolate Gu was my snack, which, fortunately, I had been warned would taste exactly like store-bought icing. Though skeptical at first, it wasn’t too bad and gave me the extra fuel to get back home without slowing down. I’m going to check out other flavors, as well as other food options such as jelly beans made for running. There’s a whole world of strange textures and flavors waiting to be discovered.

Five months ago, the desire to run to Coney Island was to me a Siren’s call as if running 5.3 miles would be the end of me. However, on Sunday, I was proven wrong as my feet carried me there and home again. I can only imagine that finishing the marathon will feel the same—an impossible dream fulfilled.

Last Saturday’s run of 10 miles marked a point in my training I’ve been looking forward to since day one. While it’ll be another week or so until I hit the half-way point of 13.1 miles, the nice round number of 10 is a distance I never before thought I’d achieve. When I finished the run, it was a huge rush to know I’d finally reached that goal, but in the days that followed, the thrill quickly died away. I had promised myself a massage or facial as a treat when I got here, yet now, all I can think of are the next 16.2 miles. Maybe I’ll reserve my pat on the back for after next month’s half marathon in the Bronx. Right now, all I want is to run more and get a few miles closer to the marathon.