I started running in May. Week by week, my mileage increased, and hard workouts were completed. I felt like my body was in a good place, and ready to train for the formidable 100 mile distance. I learned a lot during the summer months. It's okay to bail on a run if it isn't fun. It's okay to miss a workout every once in a while, 6 miles will not make or break a race in December. It's okay to slow down and have fun, and maybe carry a dinosaur on your back if it makes you laugh. Above all, this is something I LOVE to do. I needed to not lose sight of that-and I think I succeeded. Training started to ramp up in September. My mileage was higher than it's ever been and I felt strong. Then that familiar fear started to creep into my mind. My other two attempts at training for a 100 have resulted in broken bones. Fibulas actually, both of them. I don't discriminate. "Experience is the best teacher," so the saying goes- I needed to get out of my head.
THE CALM
I pushed it out of my head and enjoyed the next few months. I ran 25k at Woodstock in the pouring rain, and 25k at Not Yo Momma's with some great friends. I ran the Ragnar Buckeye Country relay, and then some. I was legitimately having the time of my life- running for fun. Summer never seemed to end ths year, and the Columbus Marathon was a stellar example of one of those things you just can't control. I ran the half with some of the folks from my training group, and it went really well. They were halfway to their goal when I sent them off on their own. But then it got hot, and there was carnage. I was reminded that it happens. I can't control all the elements. Sigh. (*All stellar races. Check them out!) October came and went and I was now running a marathon every weekend. I felt really good! My body was figuring out a rhythm... um, kind of... and my mind felt solid. I was running through tired legs and a foggy head, but finishing feeling really satisfied, like I had learned something from every run. Run With Scissors showed me that when you feel awful, you can still run 10 more miles. (thanks Beth!) NYC taught me that sticking with the first plan isn't always correct. (And also that my career might need some tweaking.) My unofficial Possum 50k revealed that I can get lost anywhere, but also that I can tough out really nasty weather. I outlasted the Army Corps, just saying. I also figured out a ton about nutrition from this one! Brokeman's reminded me that I love this sport, and again, that I can't control all. But I CAN make better decisions! (*I repeat- great races, great people!) THE STORM In my last post, I mentioned that I turned my ankle a few times at Brokeman's because I really had no business being on the trail. I should have been running on a bike path to mimic my race environment. If you recall, I was nervous (HA!). As any sane person would do, I just continued running and panicing, pretending that nothing was wrong and it was just a little sprain that would heal. My hyperventilating brain was like "OMG NONONO WE ONLY HAVE 3.5 MORE WEEKS WE CAN'T HAVE AN INJURY NOW WE HAVE TO TRAIN AND WE CAN'T SHUT IT DOWN NOW EITHER BECAUSE IT'D BE TOO LONG UNTIL THE RACE..." I pity anyone who was around me- sorry!! I pushed through a super fun 5k with friends, and was optimistic- it hurt a lot for a mile and a half, but then it seemed to go away. I ran 10 more Festivus miles that afternoon and it was uncomfortable, but not painful.#denial. I took the next day off, and then tried to run 7 that Tuesday. It was devestating. I was able to run a little bit, but it was excrutiating. To this point, I was very sure I could dissociate through the pain I'd been having for 100 miles. But this was different. It was a knife slicing through the top of my foot into the ankle and out the other side. To make it worse, I was on a Christmas light run with Jen- our favorite. Me and my dumb ankle ruined it :( I took the rest of the week off, and looked forward to my doctor's appointment on Friday. THE EYE I was not super optimistic about seeing my doctor. Sometimes he is amazing, but others, I just don't think he takes me seriously. I am 110% the type of person who only goes to the doctor when something is absolutely WRONG, and I know my body. For example- the last injury I had, I went to see him and got a lecture about needing to foam roll more. Except what was wrong was 3 areas of stress fracture in my leg, not my reluctance to perform self-myofascial release. I told him what I did and what I continued to do, and he rolled my foot around a bit and said, "I know exactly what you did. Roll over and relax." Twist, pull, yank, CRUNCH. My talus was dislocated, and now it was relocated. The relief was almost immediate and I almost cried. He said I was good to go, have fun running! It's been 24 miles since that appointment, and I am completely pain free. My ankle still feels thick, as if there is some residual swelling and I don't quite trust that it's stable. Man, are my fingers crossed!! I will run out the rest of my plan, and make it to the starting line with two functioning ankles. (I will explain the irony and importance of this statement in my 1 week out post.) I now have this sense of calm over me. I know I've missed some runs due to tweaks and minor injuries, and that I probably could have cross trained/stretched/rolled/nutritioned more. It's the thoughts we all have as races approach- the "what ifs". I am seasoned enough to know that absolutely nothing I do now will fix those deficits, and that I just need to roll with it and stay healthy for 3 more weeks. I can do this. (Where's the rest of the storm, you ask? And the calm after? Let's talk about the taper next week...)
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