T-Minus Thirteen Days....

Whoo golly this is getting rough.

I have two weeks, two measly weeks until the marathon. My runs from here on out, will all be under ten miles. I've bought new shoes for some spring in my step, and a new running outfit which I will hopefully get to wear on race day, weather permitting. (Please let me look cute, weather!)

Sounds like easy going, right?

Ugh, WRONG!!!!

I went out on my 12 mile run last Saturday thinking "so short, only 12 miles" and found myself sorely mistaken. Mostly, I was sore. You see, there's this thing that happens during the taper where your muscles for feel sluggish and like they don't want to move. (My theory is that YOU'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR SIX MONTHS. Your body and brain are telling you to quit. And yet we keep going... what is wrong with me?)

I walked a lot, took a lot of breaks, and was this close (picture two fingers super close together) to calling for someone to come pick me up and take me home. And that was at mile 6! How the badoodles am I ever going to run 26.2 miles?!?

Have you ever been so burned out on a job that you nearly burst into tears just from going to work each day? Where the slightest thing will set you off, make you cry, or want to hide in the bathroom? Or you consider calling in sick every single day. This is exactly how I feel about running. I am burned out to such an extent that I can't even keep my emotions in check for 12 miles. 

At the end of my run on Saturday this guy ran by me and started making hand signals. I thought he was another friendly lakeshore runner telling me I'm awesome and to keep going. No, turns out he was correcting my form. Telling me how I was running wrong. No doubt just trying to be helpful, but I was eleven miles into hating myself and I couldn't handle it. I burst into tears AND did this new "nearly asthma" thing that keeps happening when I'm running and crying at the same time. No doubt this guy thought I was crazy, but serves him right for being a helpful jerk. What's he do, stop and tell every single person that he's whizzing past how they're running wrong? Or does he pick one lucky victim each day and Saturday was my day?

Moral of the story: please, only say encouraging things to your fellow athletes. You don't know how much they're loving or hating what they're doing right then, and constructive criticism is not something you should give to strangers. 

Other moral of the story: Don't run a marathon. But if you do..... don't give up two weeks before it happens....

 

(It should be noted that I failed at following my own advice today. I missed my first training run of the week because I prioritized work all day today. I could have gone for a run when I got home... at 10... but I decided not to. Wracked with guilt and shame, I am now suffering the consequences, and wondering if it's possible to laze yourself out of the marathon.)

And Then One Day You Run 20 Miles...

Ay caramba this weekend was rough! My little feeties may never forgive me.

That being said, I ran 20 MILES! (Cue bells, whistles, confetti, ticker tape parade, balloons, fireworks, and other forms of excessive celebration.)

This was, by far, the hardest run I have ever done, which should go without saying. But after completing 18 miles, you logically think "it's only 2 miles more!" This was utter rubbish.

I went into this run scared, and with feet that already hurt.  My shoes are a little tired, and my will is very worn out. My 10 mile run that I did two days before was hard; this was twice as long. I was worried about injury, and nervous about time. I will say that, other than injury, all of these fears were validated and were awful. I wanted to quit, go home, and never run again ever after only five miles.

Super long story short, I did it. I averaged 14:30 a mile, which means I am only 30 seconds per mile under being able to complete the race in time. This is not great, as I'll likely run the last 6.2 even slower. I am scared about completion.

That being said, I have never experienced a feeling quite as strange as what I felt after this run. Other than complete and utter exhaustion and pain, I was also feeling two big thigns at once. Many of you know that I created the extremely useful word, "nervecited" for the moments when you are both nervous and excited (every day of an actor's life). If I were going to name my new feeling it would be this:

"Prumbled - an extreme feeling of pride and accomplishment combined with embarrassment and utter humility at what a mess you are."

I stumbled in after the run and couldn't get the hugs I wanted because I was coated in salt. I sat down immediately and started crying, with a little screaming in pain, as I rolled out the plantar fasciitis in my heels. I literally crawled to the bathroom, and could barely lift my legs high enough to get over the edge of the tub and into the shower. I then showered seated on the floor of the tub because standing is for chumps. There were friends there witnessing most of this. Prumbled.

I now get to taper, or ease down on my distance before the race. I may not even do all my runs. I am so burnt out on this dumb running thing that even though they are shorter distances it is going to be a challenge to get myself to go out daily. I'd really love to quit now, but I can't.

See? Can't quit yet. Three weeks left.

Here's the thing: I know I will be super glad when it's all over that I tried and did it and stuff. If they close the course on me, well I know the route and should be near the end so I'll finish anyway, dammit. But at this point I can't say that I recommend this to anyone. Not even for a bucket list dream. You can raise money for your favorite charity another way. You can get really fit another way. This way pain and destruction lies. However, my parents taught me that when I've made a commitment I have to stick with it through the end of the season, and the season's not over yet. Learned that the hard way with piano lessons too...

One Foot, Then Other. Repeat.

Thinking back on last week it seems like ages ago. There were so many frustrations and seeming setbacks. And then Friday I set out for a run. My schedule said "18 miles." I thought, "Well, there's no way I'll get that far since the furthest I've run is just under 14, but I'm going to go as far as I can."

And 18 miles later I wobbled up to my front door on shaky limbs, having run the entire thing with no rests.  Yes, I had to stop once to fill up my water bottle, but even that was a victory since during my 16 mile disaster I couldn't stop running at all without my knee locking up. 

Things that got me there:

• My PT exercises. I've been very diligent about them and they are definitely helping. I really feel it if I miss a day (which has only happened once), and I can definitely feel my glutes and other things participating on my runs in ways they haven't before.
• My core. I've been really concentrating on engaging it during my runs (Which is super hard. 18 miles was about 3 hours and 40 minutes. You try tightening your abs for that long!)
• Screaming at the wind. I ran along the lakeshore and when I turned back I discovered that I had an extreme headwind shoving me around. For three miles that sucker made it so difficult that I was running as hard as I could, but only moving at walking speed. Yelling at it for being a jerk didn't make me go any faster, but it did make me feel better.
• Focusing on running form. As I understand it ladies have a tendency to learn forward more when we run, which is not good for us. Leaning back a little and dropping my arms slightly helps the rest of me stay loose (and makes it easier to engage those abs). If I'm doing all those things my knees don't hurt so much.

Most of these things help me to use muscles instead of my IT band, which runners start to use when their legs get tired and the rest of them is lazy. So I did it! I ran 18 miles! I only have one more big run before the race, and then everything else gets easier. I will try for 20 miles this Saturday, but I'm not going to push it. If anything feels uncomfortable or wrong I will forgo 20, knowing that I've done 18, and preferring to come into race day healthy without my 20 miler than hurt myself in the process.

I alternate between moments of sheer pride and confidence, and absolute panic. I am petrified that I will somehow injure myself in this last month and kill my chances of running, or that I'll hurt myself during the race and not be able to finish. I know these are anxiety driven, unlikely scenarios, but I just don't trust myself or my luck at this point. These last few weeks seem incredibly long...

I feel like this guy... but not as bulge-y and shiny.

Progress is Progress.....

I have a new motto this week: 

Physical therapy last week went pretty well, and I was told my IT band is the problem. It runs from your hip to your knee on the outside of your leg, and when you run long distances it starts to overcompensate as your hammies, quads, and calves get tired. It's a very common runner problem. So I was given more exercises and told not to run for the ambiguous "a couple of days."

I rested Friday, did my ab workout Saturday, and rested Sunday. I diligently did allll of my PT exercises (I am now up to an hour and a half of PT each day).

Today I went out to run, hoping but I guess not expecting to get in my 16 mile run. My knee started to twinge a little around mile 2, but by adjusting my form (standing straighter and engaging my abs/glutes) and breathing I was able to run through the twinges without much to do. I thought "Gee, this is going quite well actually. Last Wednesday I couldn't get past 3 miles! I'm going to do as much as I can."

Kept breathing. Kept focusing on squeezing my abs and my glutes, and was chugging along at a slow 12-12 min 30 sec mile. Sufficient for where I am, a big improvement from last week.

Then I stopped to get a drink of water. HUGE mistake. I couldn't start running again without a lot of pain in my knee, no matter how much I squeezed all the other muscles that should be doing the work. Except things had been going so well, so now I'm down at Navy Freaking Pier and not able to run. I made it 7.5 miles before I had to stop, and I am trying to convince myself that, from the 3 miles I was able to run last Wed that is a good improvement. But I'm at Navy Freaking Pier. No bus pass. No bike. Just my little drumsticks to get me home. 

So I walked. And walked. And kept walking and walked all the way home. The entire endeavor took 4 hours, 10 minutes, and 31 seconds. I mean.... really. Because I had to walk, I was out in the sun for a lot longer than I expected and I hadn't put on sunscreen. In addition, the lakeshore trail was really dirty and dusty today, so I came back an absolute mess. Sunburned, looking like I'd rolled on the ground, and tear stained because I am so frustrated with this process that I just don't want to do it anymore. Seriously, look at this picture:

"Are you wearing flesh colored leggings, Kel?" "NO, that's my leg!!!"

This is what it looked like before I showered, and they're not much different now. I'm a lobster. A gimpy, grumpy lobster.

The minute positive is that I averaged a 15:37 second mile on this stupid journey, even when walking the last 8.5 miles. You have to run a 15 minute mile to complete the marathon, so if I'm just able to run for another mile or so I would have been allowed to finish. Thinnest silver lining ever, but it's there.

My strategy from this point onward is still strategically placed core days (because it's really important for me right now), rest days if I have to, and small runs during the week (I'm still not back to the actual training schedule). I will diligently perform my hour and a half of physical therapy every day from here until the 'thon. Hopefully this will get me better enough to stumble through the race.

Seriously folks, I'm so fed up with this I almost want to throw my hands up in the air, just cross train for the last month, turn up at the race and roll the dice. Seems better than a limpy 8.5 mile walk where people are afraid of you because you're sweaty, red faced, and crying.

Yeah. Kind of like that.

Back to the Therapist, Jiggity Jig

Every time I think I've got my head above water, something goes screwy.

This week it was the 14 mile run I did. My foot was feeling good, I'd done ten milers successfully, and I was ready and excited to do my first half marathon. I walked out the door full of energy and anticipation, and it started to rain.

"Who cares!" said I, "It's Half Marathon Day!!!"

Remember how sad I was the week that everyone else got to toddle off on their half and I had to watch? Well I was finally going to do it! I started off at a great pace, ran all the way from Fullerton down to the Aquarium, and turned around without a hitch. Feeling good, even on this soggy day! By mile 8, I was sodden. By mile 9 my shoes were squishy and I finally had to stop for some water. (I don't know how the rest of you runners feel, but the later in the game I can stop, the better. Once I stop moving I want to stay stopped, and I want to stop more and more frequently after that. Objects in motion, blah blah blah Newton.)

So 9-11 were a struggle, but that's about where I should be running into that feeling, since my 10 milers were going well. Here's where things went bad. I am not positive, but my theory is that since my shoes were soaked through the cushioning was not working properly anymore. Maybe not, maybe this would have happened anyway, but the outside of my left knee started to hurt. So badly that by the end of the "run" any downhill slope, regardless of how small the grade, I had to walk. I walked a lot of the last 4 miles actually. I think I probably ran the half, but that 14th mile.... yeesh.

And then I got home and looked at myself. Bedraggled. Chaffed all over my arms and upper torso because my clothes were soaked. Cuts on the back of my heels because who knows why (probably my feet/shoes/socks were soaked). Both knees hurting. I was a wounded warrior that day.

I gave it a couple of days, figuring if my knees hurt doing stairs, I probably shouldn't run. Yesterday I took my baby-friend for a run (well, she slept. I trudged and tried not to feel my knee) and today I set out on what should have been a 10 miler, only to turn around at 1.5 and finishing at 3 miles. My left knee just won't let me do a whole mile without hurting.

So here I am, bordering on injured, and with another physical therapy screening on Friday. I hope and pray that I'll be able to do my 16 miles on Saturday because I'm already playing catch up, and I only have a month and 9 days until race day. 

My feelings about it at this point: frustrated as all get out. Just let me run! I did it so well for four months, why can't I anymore? I definitely believe that I am not built for running, that there is such a thing and it is not me. I am also so annoyed that at this point I feel like even if I drag myself to the start line and half to crawl the whole thing, I am doing that stupid race. The end.