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.)

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.