Relief (ish)

Yesterday, my husband and I were finally able to meet with the Orthopedic Oncologist at The Mayo Clinic, in Jacksonville. 

If you're confused by that sentence, you'll want to go read the past few posts and get caught up. 

Now that we're all on the same page... 

Art took time off work and suffered through the Bike Week traffic to make sure we both arrived, safely. (thank you) However, the clinic requests that the initial exam involves only the doctor and the patient. We had misgivings about not having two sets of ears during the visit, but he agreed to remain in the waiting area, nonetheless. 

I would not have wanted to be The Waiter and am so impressed at his coping ability. (thank you, again) For the record, waiting in the exam room wasn't sunshine and rainbows, either. I tried to distract myself, but my erratic heartbeat and rapidly spreading Stress Hives just wouldn't let up. 

The boys were being cared for and entertained by my mother-in-law, which was an enormous help. (thank YOU, too) While Art and I embarked on this roller coaster road trip, they ate snacks and cozied up for a movie. 

the boys know how to work it

The facility is wonderful. (fun fact: It's also the site of the marathon where I ran my first Boston Qualifying time) I would recommend it to anyone seeking a comforting, comprehensive and state-of-the-art medical center. Our appointment was so late in the day, there was a bit of a "skeleton crew" feel, but that simply made it more peaceful. The remaining staff were all attentive and professional. 

I am not trying to drag out the results of the visit, here. As is always acceptable on this blog : Feel free to skim. I sent many texts, and made many phone calls, after seeing the doctor. I am sorry. I know I wasn't able to personally tell everyone.  There was a lot of traffic and thoughts and not a lot of time. 

The Orthopedic Surgeon came in and asked "So...you're a runner?" I verified and she told me 

"You have a stress fracture." 

She then showed me, on the MRI from January, the dark, almost vertical line running up my tibia, surrounded by a mass of swelling. 

It was difficult to focus on what she was saying, while so many conflicting thoughts were swirling. It was good news. So good! She talked about upping my calcium intake, I asked some annoying questions and I was on my smiling way to tell my husband we could all breathe, again. 

We focused on getting all of us home, so we could relax even further and celebrate our relief. 

not shocking: probably would've drunk this, regardless 

I may or may not have spent a reckless amount of time on this site and even started tossing around the idea of going to Boston, after all. It was a great night. 

Until 4 am. 

My eyes popped open and all sorts of rational and irrational questions and fears completely overwhelmed me. I began to recall bits of the visit I had pushed back in my mind, after hearing the diagnosis. The happiness became fuzzy and then started to fizzle away, completely. 

In a moment of Completely Outside My Comfort Zone,  I grabbed the doctor's business card, swallowed my fear and tried to call her to pour out my concerns. 

Note, it was a more reasonable hour when I attempted to call 

It is an 8-5:00, Monday through Friday number. With the extra time, I will either become much less neurotic, or simply wait (it's what I'm good at, remember) and still call her, Monday. 

In no particular order. And, for the love of everything sacred and beautiful, please feel free to end your read on a "It's just a stress fracture!!" note. Skip the following thoughts and still think somewhat highly of me. 

If you decide to keep reading, please accept this as my apology : When 4 doctors,  2 Physician's Assistants and 2 Radiologists are concerned, for months, that your problem may be a tumor and cancer, it's hard for your brain to accept, from 1 doctor (an expert, however) that it's truly just an injury.

• Why did 2 radiologists see the same, black, line and call it a lesion? Why did they call the swelling a tumor? The difference: They were told to look for a stress fracture on both the MRI and CT scan, but not given any background information. 
• This doctor knew I was a runner. Did it cloud her judgement? Running doesn't necessarily equal stress fracture. I had zero, classic symptoms, signals or causes leading up to the pain. Here is what else can cause stress fractures : tumors 
• Why did she not read their reports? 
• When asked to explain why the other doctors had seen the same scans and had noted "no visible fracture line", she responded with : "They lied." A more scientific or believable response would have gone a long way. 
• Why not order a new scan? The ones she looked at were from January. Wouldn't it help to verify a healing fracture or confirm that the mass hasn't grown or changed? 
• I am still in pain, after 13 weeks. 

Bottom line: I just need some additional reassurance. 

Obnoxious and panicky? Probably. 

Unreasonable? I don't think I care, anymore. 

Even better bottom line: We are all rejoicing and celebrating. The expert confirmed our fears can be alleviated and we can focus on the huge positives. You guys stick with all that and I'll worry about the rest. 

Thank you, again and always, for all of the kind support through this process. I hope to be able to celebrate over and over and over with anyone who will join me. :) 

Tiny Cheers

Progress!! 

Kind of. Mostly!

I received a call from the Mayo Clinic, in Jacksonville, today. They received all of the referral paperwork and were ready to schedule an appointment for me to see the Orthopedic Oncologist. 

In about 3 weeks. 

I truly am happy to have steps in the right direction (towards answers) and am glad to be on their calendar, at all. There is only one Orthopedic Oncologist at the clinic and she will be out of town next week. So, it's cool. We have learned to celebrate (woo hoo!) each bit of progress, so I wanted to share this great update with all of you. 

This type of celebrating happened *last* February. Way more fun. 

I am also blessed to be celebrating 12 years of adventurous, love and laugh-filled, marriage with my husband, this weekend. Won't that be an excellent way to pass the time while waiting for my appointment? 

We'll wear grown-up clothes and everything 

On the running front : there's not been much of a change. The rest of my body still feels great and fit. I've kept up with any strength training that doesn't hurt. Yoga is feeling great and keeping me bendy and calm. (not quite as bendy as the instructor) 

I've now missed out on seven (7!) races I was registered to run or pace, since this mess. That doesn't get easier. 

I dreamed that I hadn't yet registered for Boston and was so relieved. Until I woke up, of course. That trip is up in the air, unfortunately. It seems unlikely I'll be in marathon shape in less than eight weeks, but giving up hope isn't in my (disgustingly optimistic) nature. 

How else will I get a new shoe charm? 

Back to waiting. Still waiting. Waiting is my new thing. I have had so many doctor visits and so many tests over the past few months. This one HAS to be The One, right? 

Regardless of the outcome, we'll all celebrate another step toward fixing this. 

What are you celebrating, this week? 

Guess What?

Chicken butt.

Ha.

He likes my jokes. 

Other than knee-slapping humor, I don't have much to share at this time. The amount of time that has elapsed, with no updates or progress, is making people feel helpless and anxious. 

I get that. 

By some stroke of luck, I have been able to tap into some sort of calm, zen state of mind about the situation. While I would love to have the pain gone, receive answers about what the "undefined" growth might be and how to fix it...I don't. I am confident that all of that is coming, though. That thought is enough to keep me at peace, for now. 

That explanation isn't some backward way of bragging. It's simply to explain this : I don't stress about it until someone reminds me to. 

Moving on...

Boring details! It took quite a while for my primary care doctor's office to gather all of the necessary information to submit to insurance. It was finally set and sent on Monday, 02/15. We have since learned that our insurance company has up to two weeks to process the scans, doctor's notes and recommendations. 

If the company decides to approve of the current plan, they will contact the Mayo Clinic who will then call me to set up an appointment with their Orthopedic Oncologist. 

I've also seen it spelled "Orthopaedic" and really enjoy that variation. 

The pain remains. While it is not the acute, I-need-a-wheelchair-at-the-airport, pain of December, it still lingers. Annoyingly. 

Despite this, I've been a bit more active, this week. I'm keeping a close eye on my heart rate and keeping it low as I test out some run-walks. While it doesn't feel like "Yeah! I'm running!", it's worlds better than being completely inactive. 

I guess. It mostly still sucks. 

And when I'm not talking, I'm thinking about it. 

Update: I just received a call from the processing department. The request has been approved and Mayo Clinic will be calling me to schedule an appointment. 

Thank you for all the crossed fingers, positive thoughts and prayers. It totally worked! I'll let you know your next task, soon. 

xoxo 

Stalled

I had a two-paragraph rant about how much we pay for our family's insurance and how little that has actually provided us. (unless we're talking about grief and hassles. It provides a crapton of that)

I've pared it down to the above sentences. Complaining isn't productive and it makes me feel gross. It did feel fairly refreshing to pound out angry words on my laptop, though. 

not as refreshing as running, obviously. Hi, Dad!

As you may have surmised from the title, there has not been a ton of progress. I finally received a call from the Orthopedic Oncologist's office who informed me my insurance does not cover any doctors outside of our county. 

Nice. 

There are zero (none, nada) Orthopedic Oncologists in our county. 

This new setback led to another day spent waiting, making phone calls, trying not to cry and not always succeeding at any of that. As the hours wound down, though, it was apparent we were faced with another. wasted. day.  

Friends and family have kindly asked for updates, so there it is. Tomorrow will be spent doing what I did, today. If we are able to connect the right pair of doctors, we might be able to get an appointment for a week from now. This will be a consultation, and unlikely to garner any solid answers. 

Just another step. 

Fun side note : If we are not able to get insurance to cooperate with this process, the aforementioned consultation will cost $750. 

During the interim, I've tried some longer walks and even a bit of jogging. It hurts. The pain doesn't let up at any point. A smarter runner may even label it "unbearable" or "not something I can run through".  Luckily, as I've pointed out in the past, no one has ever accused me of being particularly smart. 

Here is my thought process : 

If it is/was a stress fracture, it now has a calcification so big and strong, the doctors are unable to detect any evidence of the actual trauma. At that stage in a healing process, I should be able to run. 

If it is a tumor, I can't be causing any further damage by testing out the legs. It's simply a matter of just how much pain I want to endure. 

Care to share your thoughts about my thoughts?

One day, my friend and I ran to the Pacific Ocean. Why can't I be stalled in that kind of day?

Still More

I'd be remiss if I didn't, again, thank everyone for their kind words and wisdom. Sharing this has opened up opportunities and insight I could not have even known to ask for. Even the simple "you're in our thoughts" brings us joy and peace. 

Something for me and my family to remember, moving forward. If you don't know what to do to help, a kind word goes a long way. 

Thank you. 

My watch knows what I want to do 

The oncologist's office stayed true to their word and got me in contact with an Orthopedic doctor they trusted. There was a (lucky!) cancellation, and I was able to get an appointment, this morning. After all the weeks of frustrating waits, the last few days have been a blessing. 

The PA and doctor asked a lot of pertinent questions and really listened to my responses. They also took quite a bit of time to actually review all of the scans and written reports. My fear (a bit of PTSD from previous appointments) was that I'd be made to feel silly for all of these steps and tests. 

When the pain initially stopped me in my tracks. (quite literally) There were enough symptoms pointing in the stress fracture direction. When the weeks dragged on and I was still in so much pain, I finally sought professional help to confirm my suspicions (stress fracture) or diagnose a different injury (tear, sprain, etc) and help with treatment. 

With all that's transpired, I fear I give off the impression of trying to dig for something that's not there. That's never been my goal or desire. This was supposed to be cut and dry. I'm supposed to be able to run by now. 

my grandparents are just as enthused by my tangents as you all are 

Back to the update. 

The Orthopedic doctor strongly feels a stress fracture makes the most sense, given most of the circumstances. Based on what he saw on the scans, some of the details and the reports, though, he is not 100% sure. Like the others before him, he was unable to actually find a stress fracture. The growth on the bone could very well be the healing/calcification of an old injury. The margins are irregular, though, and there isn't a single scan that actually shows said, old injury.  Additionally, if the stress fracture is healed enough to be completely covered by new growth, I shouldn't still be having this much pain, at rest. That's my long-winded explanation of why there is enough doubt for him send me on to the next expert. 

They are setting me up with the one and only Orthopedic Oncologist in Central Florida. He will look at the cool pictures of the inside of my leg, listen to me tell this boring story for the umpteenth time, and tell me if he thinks it's a tumor. More tests are likely, surgery is possible, impatient waiting is an absolute given.

In a lovely world, the doctor would have showed me, on the scan "here is your running injury and this is how we fix it." Come to think of it, that's what I have been hoping with every appointment I've had since the beginning of January. That didn't happen, (once again) but I am glad he is not taking any chances.

So, that's where we are in the process. Feel free to ask or share anything you'd like about the situation.

Plus, if you have pain you are not able to ignore, during physical activity, consider seeing a doctor sooner, rather than later. In my experience, it hasn't always been necessary. We aren't always qualified to know, though.

Overwhelmed

Contrary to what appears to be an over-share, I am a fairly private person. Being the center of attention makes me uncomfortable. While I'm not terribly shy, I am reserved. (if that makes sense)

A lot of you are not shocked by that statement. 

I agonized over the decision to share my recent story. In the end, I realized I don't know much...but I know running. If my experience helped even one runner, searching for answers, it was worth the extra attention.

"Thank you" will never begin to cover the feeling my husband I have regarding the outpouring of support we have received. If someone can come up with a phrase or gesture to fully convey "holy cow. We don't deserve this much love and you are all absolutely amazing", please let me know.  I just...I'm blown away.

Feel free to skip or skim any of the updates posted. Again, I'm desperate to NOT seek attention. I do feel that the information is, or could be, invaluable, though. Additionally, it has already opened doors to people I would not have normally met, who have excellent insight.

So...another sleep-deprived, head-full-of-new-information update: 

important. Plus, posts without pictures are lame

My primary care office was ON IT, this morning. After all my previous struggles, they've done a complete 180 and are now a fully functioning piece of this. I am very grateful for what they accomplished, today. 

I saw an Oncologist/Hematologist first thing, this morning. He did bloodwork and found no red flags. (yes!!) 

He also read the reports from the MRI and CT Scan, (but didn't have any of the images) and was not as convinced as the other doctors that what they're seeing is a tumor. 

Here is my concern regarding this piece : As soon as I told him I was a runner, he stopped taking notes. I worry he is being too quick to write this off as an injury. Yes, we will all do a (so careful) dance of joy if this a stress fracture that has not shown up for 3 doctors on 3 different scans, but that just seems "off" at this point. Neurotic over-thinking and sharing? Maybe. It's kinda my new thing. 

Additionally, he explained how bone biopsies are not like other biopsies. If this were any other part of the body, they would likely start with a biopsy. However, with it being so invasive and delicate a procedure, he wants to check a few more boxes before taking that route. Fine by us. 

This doctor spent a great deal of time with Art and I and we left feeling confident with his decisions and much more calm about the situation, as a whole. 

To be clear : No cancer has been confirmed or diagnosed at any point. 

I now have all of my scans on a disc, as well as a fresh, new, chest X-ray. If it is Sarcoma, the lungs are the next place it would have traveled, if any traveling had taken place. Again, nothing confirmed, denied or diagnosed. Simply another box to check. 

The images will be taken to an Orthopedic doctor he trusts. The oncologist tells us (more or less), that this fine gentleman will say : "This is MY specialty. What you have is an injury and here is how we will fix it." 

or 

"This is MY specialty. In my experience, I have not seen an injury that looks like what you have on these scans. It is time for a biopsy" 

So, that is the next box to be checked. The skilled Orthopedic doctor who holds more answers. 

Again and again and again : Thank you. Your concern, comments, texts, thoughts, love, prayers, offers to help and wisdom have made this day one trillion times easier than it should have been. 

Since I have you all here, and this is technically still a running blog, I'll leave you with a picture of my toes after running 100 miles. My gift to you. 

YOU'RE WELCOME!! 

Never Running Again

I have been staring at this blank page, at 4:00 am, trying to figure out how to put this into words. There doesn't seem to be a clever or catchy way to start, so I'll stick with what I know.

The story. 

In early December 2015, I ran the OUC Half Marathon in Orlando. Track Shack does a spectacular job of trying to make you forget what a truly awful race it is. The pre and post-race excitement *almost* tricks your brain into thinking "I should do this, every year!". The heat, uneven cobblestones and boring streets just can't be forgotten, though. 

It was part of my training, so I gave it good, tempo effort but didn't go all out. The time (1:37ish) ended up being 2 minutes faster than I'd previously ran there (2013). 

woohoo! 

I diligently completed all of my post-race recovery steps and felt good. Tired, a little achy, but good. That evening, I stepped out of the car, after a road trip and nearly toppled over. My right calf was NOT happy. As any neurotic runner would do, I proceeded to gingerly hop on it and was terrified at how much worse that felt. 

Crap. 

The next two weeks were agonizing and stressful. My goal race was looming. 24 hours, on a 400 meter track, with the intent of qualifying for the US National 24-Hour team, is not something one can go into half-heartedly. 

I iced, heated, elevated, and had the magic hands of Debbie upon me, more than once. Above all, I didn't push it. During those weeks, I only tested out my running legs a couple of short times. The training plan was furiously re-vamped to include nothing but rest and recovery. 

I can honestly say that when my husband and I boarded the Arizona-bound plane, all the calf pain terror was behind me. No medications involved, no fingers crossed. My biggest fears were getting my gear and nutrition set to keep my body going strong for 24 hours of running. 

The details of the race aren't important. The highs of dining with some of the most amazing athletes I've ever encountered, were swiftly followed by the nauseating lows of limping behind all of them after stabbing pain hobbled me a few, short laps into the morning.  

My husband and dear friend  were so patient and loving. I am still so thankful for the way they picked up the pieces and got us all home, with (somehow) happy memories of the weekend. 

The phantom, on-again-off-again, calf annoyance was now a full-on, stabbing, keeping-me-awake-all-night  PAIN. I put myself on crutches and treated it like what I suspected it to be. A tibial stress fracture. (<-<-It's cool to use fractured sentences when discussing fractured bones) 

Christmas on Crutches! 

Not being able to run is devastating for any runner. Going from 80 miles per week, to zero, was really hard to wrap my head around. With it being a weight-bearing bone, this could continue for at least eight weeks. However, with no actual diagnosis, there was a chance this could all go away much quicker. 

Fast-forward to the day I broke down and went to the ER. Having no Primary Care Provider, it was the only way to get the ball rolling on a diagnosis and treatment plan. I'd fought it for weeks. A stress fracture would be healed by doing exactly what I was doing. Anything else : tear, strain, etc, also just needed rest. However, it had now been just that unsettling bit of "too long" to ignore. The pain was still waking me up at night. I still wasn't able to function as I would like to as a person, much less an athlete. So, to the ER I went. 

The "doctor" peeked at the clean x-ray and immediately turned off his listening ears. He sent me away with instructions to "take a warm bath and possibly try some new shoes" to ease my "shin splints". He refused to order any further tests and the referral he gave me was not one my insurance was able to use. It was a maddening waste of my valuable time. 

But I kept at it. 

New insurance policy, new doctors...it was a mess. Once I started down that path, though, I was either going to get to the bottom of this or stop being in pain. The pain lingered, my frustration and depression grew, so I kept pushing. 

being listed in magazines helped 

Again, trying to shorten this months-long story, so feel free to ask any details you feel are pertinent. 

For now: there was an MRI. Waiting for the results was maddening. The results were even more so. No stress fracture was detected. "unspecified" bits showed up. This meant there was proof something was causing me pain, however, any imaging had so far failed to determine what that might be. All of this was wrapped up with "BUT, it could still be a stress fracture." 

Lovely. 

Last week, I had a CT scan. There were more hoops to jump through to get the results. This finally resulted in me driving to the doctor's office, to pick up a copy. If necessary, I could schedule a follow-up when the doctor became available. For now, though, I just wanted to try to decipher that report and get some answers. 

When my eyes fell on the word "sarcoma", in the report, the world quickly became very small, very quiet and very still. 

I showed it to the receptionist who put me on the schedule to meet with the doctor an hour from then. 

To think of how devastated I was at the prospect of not running for 8 weeks. That my gripe was how much fitness I was losing, how many races I was missing out on, the fun times with friends out on the roads and trails. 

Looking at an upcoming bone biopsy and being faced with, among a dizzying amount of unknowns, the thought of Never Running Again. 

Suddenly, 8 weeks doesn't seem so bad. 

Spoiler

I'm not the type to frantically flip to the back of the book to read the last page, before conquering the rest of the story. I do know and love "this type", but it's not my typical move.

It's been a while since we've all chatted, though, so I'll pretend we're all strangers. With that in mind, for all I know, you guys like fast-forwarding to the end of the story.

So, I guess the current page would read a bit something like this :

 

 

The time for brave-faced jokes and stiff-upper-lipping was over. I finally succumbed. The powerful music that fueled so many months, days, hours...agonizing seconds of training overcame me. I let it wash over me as I crumbled.

 

Physically, mentally...it was inevitable.

 

Those tears of regret and pain that had been threatening for weeks didn't feel therapeutic or peaceful. They burned. They broke me even further. They seemed to be endless.

 



Pride Cometh After A Fall

I was going to recap yesterday's 5k. I'll still do that this week. Today's initially innocuous run just took precedence in my tiny brain, though. Fair warning: there are some gross photos and fairly raw emotion included. Drama? Yes. Long-Winded? Mmm. Hm. Tempted to keep reading? Probably not.

If you prefer to spend your time reading something funnier, lighter and more intelligent, please visit my sissy's new blog and enjoy this post.

Having not run more than 17 miles since my mess of a marathon in December, I planned to knock out a solid 20-miler before this much-anticipated event. Training has been solid. Other than some overall fatigue, I've been feeling great. So, when preparing for this morning's long run, I set a goal.

Keep it easy, but finish with an average pace you'll be happy and confident about. That actual number's not important to the story, but I had a small range in mind.

Unfortunately, even after a relaxing night, good sleep and plenty of hydration, I woke up feeling pretty groggy and un-motivated. Coffee helped and I was out the door with little trepidation. It was (Florida) cool, very damp and foggy. The morning was still dark, quiet and almost silent. Everything was shrouded in creepy, heavy mist and it was too early for even die-hard dogwalkers to be out.

not quite as dark as this run ,but you get the idea

A lot of my runs begin this way. Normally I enjoy the peace. It's a chance to clear my thoughts, plan my week, set small goals and focus on happy moments my family and I have spent together, recently. Today, though, the dark miles passed very slowly, both physically and mentally. Yesterday's race was taking it's toll on my legs and I ran out of happy-go-lucky way too quickly.

Sunrise happened and helped my mood, immensely. And then it didn't. Oddly, for me, I felt very lonely. While most of my runs are solo, I was suddenly craving company. There were overwhelmingly ugly feelings of jealousy towards my running buddies I knew would be enjoying their miles with friends, today.

where were all these guys when I needed them?!

 

Then my phone rang. Sometimes, while "in the groove", the distraction can be a slight annoyance. Today's call was perfectly timed, though. My dear, sweet husband wanted to know where I'd be so he and the boys could come offer "on-course" support. We picked a place and I hung up with a smile to replace my former, sour frown.

 

Miles 8-14 were mostly a blissful blur. I threw in a challengingly faster mile, turned on my audiobook and looked forward to seeing my guys in a short while. The weather prevented me from even working up a real sweat. My legs were getting achy and fatigued, but in a good and normal way. The city was wide awake, finally, and the bevvy of new activity around me was a welcome distraction.

 

When I came up to The Husband and Middlest, sans vehicle, I realized they'd be hoofing it with me, for a bit. That brilliant idea was such an awesome surprise! Middlest rode his scooter (not so fast!) in front of us, and The Husband and I caught up on fun stories while he tried to slow his (much fresher) legs. After a couple sips of water, I left him with my half-full handheld as it was getting annoying to carry. With less than five miles to go, and the temperature being so lovely, I'd be fine without any more fuel.

 

They honked, waved, cheered and drove back home. I returned the wave and rallied my heavy legs to finish this run strong.

Quick disclaimer : "strong" and "fast" are not interchangeable, in this particular context. I'm a firm believer in the benefits of running my long days at an easy pace.



 

I'd gotten about a quarter-mile away before I tripped on a minuscule crack in the sidewalk.

 

My body went flying and skidding. As was the case with my last fall I simply didn't have any spare energy to try to stop the crash. I slid on my palms, scraped my arm, hip, knee and hand.

 

Two things registered, immediately.

1. OW!

2. There was a line of cars waiting to pull into the church entrance where I was hideously sprawled and a dozen or so congregation members, in the parking lot, staring at me in horror.

 

Fact Number 2 got me to my feet faster than I could've ever imagined. I surveyed the important damage (Garmin ok? Ipod still as intact as ever?) ,while I ran away from the humiliating scene. My body, while bruised and stinging, was still moving as it should be. That fact, along with the realization that my phone was in the handheld water bottle I'd sent with my husband, forced me to continue this run I so desperately wanted to abruptly end.

 

When I reached the 16th mile, and remembered that the next few stretches would be full of tall (Florida) hills, I finally paused my watch and fully stopped to survey the damage. I guess I was hoping that it was much less benign than I thought it was? I stopped the exploratory searches when I saw this:

spoiler: I survived and took pics after the run

 

While I now, rationally, realize it's simply a scraped knee, at that moment it was enough to drive me to actual tears. Frustration (why does this keep happening to me?!), Embarrassment (which isn't an emotion I generally succumb to), Exhaustion and Defeat overwhelmed me. Glancing up the steep hill, I saw people coming, so I slowly and sadly stumbled on. The thought crossed my mind to ask them if they had a phone so I could call my husband for a ride. By the time I reached them, though, my stupid crying fit was over and I'd decided to keep running. My pace was abysmal, my spirit was dead and my freaking bruised hands hurt like a b*#)%!

 

With everything now aching, inside and out, I shakily managed to switch my ipod back on to drown everything out with some music. When it started filling my ears, brain and heart, it was like a switch was flipped within me, as well.

 

I picked up my head, focused on the wisdom of Van Halen ("Right Now? It's Everything!") and my form, and destroyed the next hill.

 

Now, well into the seventeenth mile, I stopped looking at my watch but remembered my earlier goals for this training run. My legs started churning out beautiful-feeling movements but my breathing stayed soft and easy.

 

When Dave Grohl started singing about his "Hero", there wasn't a doubt in my mind he was referring to me.

 

Thinking back to my very first 20-miler, and the overwhelming sense of emotion and pride I felt when I knew I was going to finish it strongly, I started to get choked up, once again. That run had been prior to my injury, . While I'd managed to heal and get my fitness to a place where I could giddily complete my very first marathon, I'd very rarely felt "back", during my subsequent runs.

 

Here's the thing about running. It can, without warning or provocation, turn into an absolutely spiritual experience. It's not something you can plan or force. Some miles, some races, some impromptu jaunts with friends, just totally morph into something that cannot be explained without sounding like a complete dork. This, obviously, doesn't stop me from trying...

 



When I finished today's 20 miles, and realized they were, overall, even faster than my pre-injury ones(complete with fall and blubbering like a baby!), I couldn't decide whether I wanted to holler, cry (again) or just let my proud smile overtake my tired face.

 

So I did all three.

bruised & bloodied hip

 

curious about how I managed to scrape the palm AND back of the same hand

 

 

 

 

 



Let's Do This (again)

This is a bit of a cheat. I actually drafted this post before my first marathon, back in October. I set it to publish Sunday morning, the day of the race, but it never did.
I still like it, though, and found it fitting as I'll be running my SECOND marathon, tomorrow.

Enjoy!

By the time you read this, I will either be pounding out 26.2 miles (consecutively, apparently?!) or will be finished doing so and whining things like " why did I EVER think that would be a good idea?!" (clean version of what I'll actually be saying)

While I could type, endlessly, about my feelings about this upcoming race. I'll spare you and keep this short, honest and only mildly dorky.

You're welcome.

GOALS : in reverse order, 'cause no one can stop me.

C : Finish with a smile on my face and a strong desire to race this distance, again. Yes, yes, I have read and been told that "finish" should be my one and only goal for the first marathon. Turns out I'm way too stupid over-acheiving for that nonsense. Really, though, I'm not taking it lightly. I respect the distance and have felt the pain of long-distance racing.

B. Sub 4:00. Without the whole stress fracture business messing with my fragile brain, I'd think this would be totally do-able. The facts remain, though. I was forced to sit and not run for seemingly endless weeks during this training cycle. This goal may turn out to be extremely difficult to reach.

A. 3:45 I have struggled, for months, to come up with realistic, fearful-smile-inducing goals. Earlier this week, though, I had a total moment of peace and clarity. 3:45 it would be. The icing on the CrazyGoal Cake? Afterward my a-ha moment, I plugged my most recent 10k time into Mr. McMillan's calculator. He predicts, based on that stat alone, that my marathon finishing time could be 3:45:12.

The nerves and stress are astronomical. Not only am I venturing into completely unknown territory, but I'm also taking my entire family with me.

Imagine packing your suitcase for your very first marathon.
Now imagine it's also out of the Country.
And you have to pack everything your family of five will need for several days.

SeewhatImean?

The Middlest, demonstrating Freakout Mode

 

It'll all come together. It won't be easy,  it will absolutely be life-changing, and I am so excited I can hardly wait.

 

Please stop back by for a marathon of a recap. 

 



Day Ten

Double Digits of Adventrageous! Woohoo! We are moving right along. If anyone says "you're almost there!", Misguided Race Spectator-style, they'll get punched in the ear.
 

Today's Topic : Ten Reasons I Run. I actually keep a running (harhar!) list, in my journal. These are just a handful, in no particular order.

•  I run so I can eat ice cream. Every day, if I feel so inclined.

hello, yummy friend!

• I run to make up for all the years I didn't.

Remedying this problem for our future generations by starting the boys out early

•  I run so I can later drive down that same stretch of the road and think "I ran that". Weird? Maybe. True? Absolutely.
• I run so I can feel like a real athlete. My lack of grace, skill, strength or natural talent in any other physical arena kinda limits me. It's cool, though, because I can run. I can even run for hours on end! Without passing out or vomiting!
• I run to clear my thoughts. You have no idea what intricate problems I can solve during my runs. Or, more often, what mind-boggling thoughts I can completely tune out during the time I'm smacking my feet on the pavement. Either way, it provides great benefits.
• I run to clear my sinuses. It's true! It's a great cure for a stuffy nose.
• I run for friends and family who want to and can't.

we all know someone's who has been here...or worse

 

• I run to stay in shape for racing. That may seem like double-dipping, but the two don't always go hand-in-hand. I love running. I love racing. I want to be able to do both for a very long time.

check out that blurry, heel-striking, happy lady!

• I run to show my boys how cool it is to have a hobby or passion that is also good for your health and well-being. Video Gaming just doesn't stand up to running, in those areas.
• I run to maintain my sanity. 

Today's share : Just in case I'm not the last person to stumble on this fun read, I thought I'd pass it on. I check it every now and then and get a little creeped out. It's like the contributors read my mind!

 

Tell me a reason you run :

 

Not a runner? Why the heck not?



 

 

 



Only Nineteen Left

As would be the case in a marathon, that phrase is far from encouraging. These posts aren't nearly as painful or sweaty, though. Ooh! Maybe I'll give myself a medal upon completion, too?!

 

a small part of my collection. Definitely needs a Blogging Streak addition.

 

Today's Topic : My Six Worst Running Experiences (in no particular order)

 

•  The final run before my Stress Fracture diagnosis. Read all about it in this post. The worst part? Up until the point where I was fighting back embarassing tears of pain, it was one of the most successful Tempo Runs I'd had in months.

 

soooo not worth it

 

• The attempted Tempo Run just prior to the aforementioned Disaster Jaunt. I have no post to bore you with, as it was prior to my blogging. In retrospect, the looming Stress Fracture might have had almost everything the teensiest bit to do with the failed workout. I warmed up for a mile and could not. complete. a single tempo mile. I was a physical and mental mess. We have all had failed workouts. This one was bad enough to stick in my mind as one of the most demoralizing training runs I've ever had. It was particularly bad because it followed...

• The OTHER attempted Tempo Run just prior to the aforementioned Disaster Jaunt. Yes, it was Summer. Yes, it was disgustingly hot and humid. Yes, I had nagging pain which eventually turned into a full-blown injury. At that time, in my training, though, none of those factors were able to erase the defeat I felt when I was unable to complete this speedwork. They were workouts I'd done before. The pace was slower than my 5k pace, for goodness' sake! Those runs lead me to question everything about my running, for the first time, ever. I know how dramatic that sounds, but I had never before had to wonder "why am I even putting myself through this?" Up 'til that point, running had been fun. Even when it was competetive, it was still fun, for me. Now, with a goal of "Marathon", everything began to unravel. It was a very dark time, indeed.

"ooh, how artistic! See how she uses the photo to simulate the shadow falling on otherwise happy times!"

 

• This 10k was so awful for so many reasons.

ugh

I was so excited about this race. It was the first in a set of races appropriately named Tour De Pain Extreme. The 10k was held in the morning, followed by a 5k the same evening and a half-marathon the following morning.

 

I realize that concept doesn't seem tempting to any most people.

 

I love 10ks, though, I love the idea of running fast after a morning race (the 5k) and would have a perfect excuse for why I sucked it up in the 1/2 the next morning. (uh...I just ran 2 races, yesterday...). In my usual form, I failed to peek at that above course map, prior to the race. Apparently, the "Extreme" portion of the title wasn't a fluke. There were four bridge crossings. In 6.2 miles. It was hot, hideous and such a disappointing start to the fun weekend I'd built up, in my mind. For the first time, ever, I didn't even look at the posted results, after the race. It was that bad.

 

•  This 5k. Other than the quickie Genuine Mile race I'd done, it was my first post-injury race. I was so happy to be in racing shape, again, and had set my expectations way too high. I was simply not as ready as I'd hoped I was. It was so discouraging and, for the first time, made me question if I ever wanted to race a 5k, again. After some time, I was able to shake off the race, but it still haunts me, a bit, when I look at my upcoming race calendar.

somehow, the bands on the course had the oppostite effect of "motivating me"

• And, finally, my first 18-miler. Again, pre-blogging days, so there's no link to an overly-dramatic and blurry photo-filled post. It was supposed to be a "long, slow day". My furthest distance, to date, had been 16 miles, so I thought it would be totally do-able. Five miles in, I had the first inklings of panic, about the heat and the way my body was feeling. When, at seven miles, I realized that I would have to finish out fourteen miles, just to get back to my car, the full-blown nausea and defeat set in. (it was an out & back, paved trail). I remember hating the lucky people on bikes. I shot desperate looks at anyone who passed, hoping they'd offer me some sort of solution to this situation I'd gotten myself into. 

  I stumbled to my car, at mile 14 and ripped off my sweat socked socks & shoes. I literally had to wring them out. A frustrated, whiny phone call to The Husband somehow provided the kick in the butt I needed. I shoved my blistered, wrinkled feet back into my shoes, and set back out to finish out those four miles.

Luckily, the experience provided me with a comprehensive list of "What Not to do on Long Run Days".

Bottom line :

To acheive runs that leave you feeling like this:

 

 

 

...sometimes you have to go through ones that make you look like this:

 

 

In lieu of Today's link sharing, you get the above picture.

 

You're welcome! 



 

 





 

 



Round Two

While I don't feel I'm a slave to training plans, I do like having somewhat of a guide when venturing into unknown running territory. See, the day after I registered for my first marathon, I went ahead and signed up for my second (third...and fourth. I may have a problem).

more on this, soon!





Two days after my marathon, I felt completely fine. Yes, this could be a sign of good training. It could've also had something to do with the fact that I didn't actually run it at my "race pace". I am so happy with everything about that race, so I'm not regretting my pace. My current mentality, however, is along the lines of : Now we know we can successfully run for 26.2 miles. Let's do it faster!

Mr Higdon actually has training plans for idiots runners participating in multiple marathons. I jumped right into his 8 week plan, after the NFIM. A few days into it, though, I was feeling completely bored and unfulfilled. My body felt great and I was totally fired up. "2 easy-paced miles" for my daily workout was just not cutting it.

real snail. Not actually a picture of me...just what I felt like

 

I launched into some obsessive research and came up with a newer and decidedly tougher plan. Again, I'm not exactly Type A about running...or anything for that matter. However, I am definitely not experienced enough to try to improve my Marathon time "on the fly".

 

Plans are good.

 

Plans are our friends!

 

I'll end up with a lot of miles by the end of this first, full week. They'll include 7xHill Repeats, a 10 mile, goal marathon-paced run AND a long run. For some reason the daunting aspect of these workouts is making me ridiculously happy! I'm being rigid about my stretching, foam rolling, yoga, Epsom baths, compression and rest, too. Extra and/or difficult miles are only a teensy part of training.

really it's all an excuse to get to dress like this 

 

My new schedule is making me optimistic and deliciously spent at the end of each day. Had the ol' injury not joined the previous Prepping For a Marathon Party, I undoubtedly would have been able to train harder, then, too. All of my workouts, post-stress fracture, though, were forced to be altered. The fact that I was still able to succesfully complete a marathon, after all that, reinforces my belief that I went about things the right and patient way.

 

Granted, during my disgusting run, Sunday, I had to repeatedly remind myself : "This is what YOU wanted!". While the affirmation did nothing to stop my audible? mental whining, it did keep me going. (that, and the thought of the pizza I was going to devour upon finishing)

 

While I'd love to ramble more, here, I just realized the awful scent I keep catching a whiff of is actually me. Turns out I wasn't actually able to fit in a shower after running ten miles, this morning...

 

If you think that's nasty, you should check out my Marathon Souvenir:

Runners can be pretty gross, eh?

 

Want to share something icky? Now's your chance!