So here we are. Less than 48 hours to race start, I am somewhere between terrified and excited. Fortunately, Jen the therapist tells me these emotions spring from the same brain area, so I'm hoping to move the terrified just slightly over to the excited and call it a day. If only life worked so easily!
I think it's okay to be nervous before a run but I feel like with this one, anxiety took hold in a way that was just too much. Maybe because it's a new distance? One I'm having trouble wrapping my head around? Perhaps. If I choose to run this distance again I'll let you know. Oddly enough, the more things that go awry, the calmer I feel. Like the creek that is now a river clossing. Or the overnight rain at 40 degrees. At least I KNOW about these things and I think that's the biggest difference for me- knowing. And 100 miles, I do NOT know! (yet.) In thinking about this distance, I have to really know why I'm doing this. For the darker times, which will be inevitable, I think knowing and remembering my motivation will be key. Nobody just goes and runs 100 miles to be able to say that they ran 100 miles. I don't think just wanting bragging rights will getone through this distance. So here is my why. Half a lifetime ago, when I was 18, I took a little joyride into NYC with some friends. We lived in the Poconos, about 70 miles outside the city, but I'm pretty sure that nobody's parents knew what we were up to. If there is such a thing as a sign, I believe we got ours when the driver got pulled over before we even left town. An hour later, the driver became sleepy and pulled over to change drivers on a deep shoulder on Rt. 80, in Patterson, NJ. I was asleep, so I don't have a recollection of what happened next. All I know is what I've been told, what I've seen pictures of, and details I'm not quite sure how I know. We were hit by a truck driver who had fallen asleep. He was carrying apples. Our car, a Volkswagon Gulf, was tiny but fortuntely had the gas tank on the passenger side. One person in our car was physically unharmed and she had the wherewithal to climb out of the sunroof and flag someone down on the highway after the driver of the truck either refused or couldn't understand her (he was Russian). She ended up flagging down some type of medical professional, and we were minutes from a world-class trauma hospital. (For such a horrific event, there were a lot of things with us that night.) The next week is a blur to me. Being asleep ended up saving my life, because it allowed me to be thrown between the front seats of the car when my seat ceased to exist. My seatbelt was on, which prevented me from flying through the windshield. It did rupture my spleen, but I figure that's a small price to pay. My other big injury was an ankle break that required a lot of treatment. They couldn't operate on it immediately because of my splenectomy and unstable vital signs. I was clinically dead three times. One of my only memories from the hospital was the orthopedic surgeon coming in and lifting up my left leg and using the palm of his hand to flip the medial side of my ankle back into place. Forcefully. All I remember is sitting up, screaming, and passing out. My mom said that this actually raised my vital signs to a less concerning level, but that my sister almost punched the guy. Recovery was a nightmare. Initially I couldn't do anything. I had broken ribs, a 10-inch incision on my stomach that was stapled together, a cast on my leg covering more staples and some new screws, and some bruises and abrasions. While very physically painful, I don't think that this was the worst part of it. For the next few years, I had additional surgeries on my ankle and Achilles tendon, 5 to be exact. My doctors would not clear me to play sports in college and mentioned that a more sedentary hobby would likely be my best bet. I've been active my entire life- I played soccer three seasons in high school, cheered, danced, and generally just enjoyed being active. Now I was looking at basket weaving? Relative sedentarism won out for the next 5 or 6 years. Looking back, I was not happy with or about much. I was mean to people, ruined relationships, and played with mind-altering substances perhaps a bit too much. I didn't realize it then, but looking back now I was trying to process this event. I just didnt know how. And I think I still am. I joined a gym and began running, simple as that. This was 10 years ago. I remember the first time I ran a mile. I was so proud of myself, and that doesn't happen often. I had found my outlet, but there were issues along the way. I run kind of funny. Some describe it as "prancing," others say I run like a ballerina. I'd say both are accurate. I have 0 degrees of flexion in my left ankle, meaning I can't bend it past a 90 degree angle. This translates to me running on my toes or with feet turned out. Turns out, either is great for you! I've gone through PT many times, trying to get that sucker to loosen up, I've had it cleaned out twice- nothing makes it budge. Ballerina runner it is! This worked out pretty well until I surpassed the marathon distance. The way my feet land places a tremendous amout of stress on a particular ligament that runs from the toes to the fibular head. I've snapped both fibulas over the past few years. I went through one more round of PT this year in the spring, after my second stress fracture. I was training for a 100 miler, and I got pretty angry when it dawned on me that this wasn't my fault. I'd be able to do this if not for this small issue, which I had no say in. Some ass from Russia who was, at the time, breaking the law was responsible. Talk about angry and bitter... I adapted my training and tried to fix my gait enough so that I woundn't be breaking bones. Here I am, 2 days out, and nothing seems to be broken. I'll call that a win. What I realized is that my destiny can't be controlled by anyone- I will NEVER let this man, or anyone else, TAKE something from me. I was the one letting him. Nothing can be taken from us, ever, if we don't let it. I'm sad it took me half my life to figure this out, but grateful that I learned the lesson. That is my "why." To prove that nobody can control what I can do, except me. Nobody can take anything from you. Create your own ending.
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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...) I only ran 35ish miles this week. It feels weird, like I missed something? Have you ever had that feeling while training for a race? I'm not sure that I have... I can recall approaching taper weeks with dread, I'm not a fan AT ALL. But this feels different, perhaps because I've never attempted this before? I don't know... it still feels so big, so ambiguous, that I can't wrap my head around it. THIS is 100 miles. I'd be lying if I said this was a completely smooth training cycle. I think it's actually been not too bad, but I'm the type of person who loses sight of that whenever something less-than-perfect pops up. The less-than-perfect in this case is a cranky left peroneal tendon. It started bothering me mid-November, and I got scared because it literally stopped me in my tracks. The pain shooting into my foot was pretty unbearable, so I took 4 days off. In hindsight, 4 days will not make or break a training cycle. But at that moment, the world was ending. I'm not sure how to explain what goes on in my head, in a way that makes sense to people. I have an Anxiety Disorder with OCD features. I have also made the decision to forego medication for this, so it's a demon I fight on a regular basis. I think it takes people by surprise, because those who "know" me would likely tell you I'm super laid back, free spirited, and happy. I am all these things in so many ways... but those who KNOW me have seen this side. It can be ugly and emotional and scary, but I really believe running has helped me to manage this in a lot of ways. The appeal of a schedule, of hitting prescribed paces to the second, of managing nutrition to the calorie- this makes my OCD smile :) The problem (and reflection?) comes in when things don't go as planned. I think all runners know that this is bound to happen, someway, somehow. We get injured, we forget things, we encounter situations that are out of our control. DISASTER STRIKES. It happens... and then what? The world still turns, and you begin again. Knowing this somehow does not help! Oh anxiety... you are the devil.
My 4 days off were somewhat tumultuous, I was pretty sure I could never finish the 100 having not met every single run that existed. The situation blew up in my head bigger because I had my peak week just a week away. If I can't run a simple 5 miler without pain, how in the world am I supposed to get through a 50k and 50 miler in the same week? It was an emotional week. Magically, the rest, ice, and massive amounts of NSAIDS helped. The following week, I ran pretty pain free. Okay self, maybe we CAN do this. Crisis averted. Enter poor decision making! I rolled my ankle (the left, of course) running that week on a difficult trail that I had no business being on. Here we go again. I took the next week (this past week) really easy, walking a few miles one day instead of running, and just being aware of how things feel. I've continued to ice, massage, and take Advil, and I even got a compression sleeve to support it. My long runs went pretty well, I ran 6 on Saturday and although I was aware of some discomfort, I couldn't call it painful. Sunday I ran a pretty speedy 5k, followed by 10 more easy with some friends. The 5k definitely fired the ankle up, but it dissipated as I went along. I was really curious to see how it would respond after a break to drive to run #2, as it had been stiffening up pretty quickly after activity. I was pleasantly surprised to see that although it felt tight and stiff, it wasn't painful. I think as long as I continue to baby it, it will be okay. But I'm still going crazy because of the "what if's." I still have 4 weeks to get through! What if it doesn't heal, and I have to take more time off? Will my legs be stale and will my fitness disappear? I have one more long run to conquer, a 24/14 this weekend. What if it's a disaster? Shoud l I take an extra day off this week in preparation for that? It's really a never-ending barrage of mental anguish. I am grateful that I survived my peak week already, that was a big hurdle I'm happy to have completed. I spoke to someone pretty recently who has a lot more experience than I do, and he told me that he shut it down 2.5 weeks before his last 100 and he was fine. His body was beat up and he felt it would be better to go in slightly undertrained than injured. I'm trying to keep these thoughts in my head when I make decisions. Do other people think this way when they train? I can't remember another training cycle that has been so mentally draining! I mean, the physical ass-whooping I expected... but I'm exhausted in the head :/ |