Showing posts with label stress fracture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress fracture. Show all posts

Sunday, December 14, 2008

against the wind...

I ran four miles on Saturday. This was a big day for me, a day full of firsts since my stress fracture: first long run, first run alone, first run with my orthotics, first run with my new and improved short run playlist (thanks ladies!), first run where I belted out tunes to myself at the top of my lungs....

The odds were against me, it had warmed back up Saturday to about 50 degrees when I went out in the late afternoon, but the wind was just ridunckulous! The four mile route I did is the hilliest in my neighborhood. The hills, combined with the straight-line, gale-force wind, proved for a challenging, yet fantastic, run. If I wasn't running up a hill, I was running into the wind, or was facing both straight on. Maybe it's the sick mind of a runner, but I enjoyed every single challenging moment of it.

Since I know myself so well, and since I was running alone and left my doorstep charging, I realized I needed something to help me reign it in for most of the run. I decided to sing to myself. Out loud. Please note I am a horrible singer, and am even worse with lyrics. Think of the worst imaginable person on American Idol try-outs, I am worse. Plus, you would think someone who knew a song well could repeat the lyrics, but no, not me. I throw in a few of the actual words to my mostly "mmmmm laaaa ffaa beeoo booo laa laa"-ing when I sing along. Unless of course, I'm at the Sound of Music sing-a-long at Hollywood Bowl (best time EVER) while consuming more guacamole, cheese and wine than humanly possible..... back me up here Meaghan! But did that stop me? Absolutely not. In fact, it really did help me keep an even pace. There is your tip for the day runners, if you need to keep a slower pace and are alone with no one to help pace you, sing to yourself.

With about a half mile left, I was running into the wind while going downhill and I decided to let myself have a treat and did a sprint until it leveled out. There I am, sprinting down the hill, straight into the hard wind, singing "Paper Planes" at full volume and wiping my runny nose on my sleeve, when I spot a guy walking his dog. I'm sure at this point he had noticed me, so it was either let him think I was embarrassed and stop singing and wiping nose, or just keep on going full force and smile at him to let him know I didn't care. So I smiled and sang, he smiled back. I'd like to think he danced to it, even if just for a few seconds.

This running route ends by going back up hill for about a quarter mile until I hit a one-block plateau right before my house. I try to end all my neighborhood runs going up that hill. I like to end my runs alone as hard as possible, again sick, I realize this. I was finally tired, my arches were screaming at me from the orthotics, but I charged up that hill in the wind like nobodys business. I stopped singing and let my legs go. I felt like I was back. There was something so satisfying about running my heart out this afternoon, knowing I could do it in brutal wind with feet aching.

It was a good run. The thing that I loved about it was running into that wind, belting out a song and going full force. It was the most freeing thing I had done in weeks. I needed that run. It made me feel like my months and months of hard work, long miles, and speedwork before my fracture weren't entirely lost. I ran those four miles in 36:40. I declared it a success. I'm praying my guts out that it wasn't a fluke, and I really am back...



Thursday, October 2, 2008

the swim nazi....

About two days after I acquired my stress fracture, my Dr. was still working on deciding exactly what was wrong with my foot. I was convinced it was something minor, like inflammation, or a tendon strain. But I did have the intuitiveness to realize I wouldn't be running right away.

Since I was determined not to lose any of the running conditioning I had gained up to this point, I did some research and found the best option was pool running. So my mom came to the rescue by getting me an "aqua jogger," she even brought it to me all the way across town. What a great mom! And yes, pool running is exactly what it sounds like. You put on an aqua belt and run in the lap pool. And it works, and it will kick your butt... you sweat and get out of breath and keep your endurance, without a doubt.

Three days after my injury I met my pregnant running buddy Katie at the Y to go pool running.... until we came face-to-face with the pool nazi.

We both felt a bit ridiculous our first time out, she being eight months pregnant and me on crutches... we were a hot pair! We got changed and slowly made our way out to the pool area, where my crutch slipped almost immediately on the wet tile, landing on my injured foot. That should have been our first tip-off to turn around and go back to the locker room, get dressed and go get coffee.

But we kept going, just a little more cautiously. It was a pretty long trek to the lap pool. We had read the schedule by the way, and were under the impression the lap pool was open. We got to the pool, and there stood this little, beady eyed, mustached man who put his arms out and stared at us blankly and I kid you not, said "can I help you?"

WHAAA??? Katie and I stood there shocked and I muttered something about "oh there must be swim team," to which he answered, "yes," at which point poison darts shot from his eyes into our souls. It was so horrible. So we left, dejected.

I cried the entire drive home. Maybe the tears were more from the build up of the pain, and the frustration of crutches, with the realization I couldn't do everything I wanted than it was the nazi. It's hard to say.

But there was some redemption in this story. We became tattle tales, and it felt amazing! We relayed the story to our personal trainer at the Y! She was horrified and immediately told the managers about our situation, to which they were appalled and mentioned they weren't surprised. Apparently they already knew that particular swim coach is a total a-hole swim nazi! They had a "chat" with him. Maybe he will mind his manners in the future!

The other redeeming quality? Katie and I laugh hysterically every time we talk about the debacle. Somehow, despite the swim nazi, we can still find the humor of the pregnant and gimpy girls who lamely waddled and crutched their way to bravely face the swim nazi....

Thursday, September 25, 2008

first, the irony...

It's ironic that as I sit here, starting my very own grown up running blog, that I cannot run. You see I was at the height of training for my first marathon when I got a stress fracture. And it sucks. And my heart is fractured, probably worse than my metatarsal.

The frustration is only amplified by the fact that I wasn't just going to run a marathon in October, but had a total of six races I was getting ready to do right before this fracture happened. I know everyone says there is a reason, and that my body was screaming at me to rest, but I don't care. I miss running like a fat kid misses cake, and it is killing me to be sitting on my couch writing on a beautiful fall evening instead of out pounding the pavement.

I'm 29, I've tried to train for three marathons so far, and every time, something tragic happens. My goal in training for the marathon this year was to qualify for Boston. I was going to run the Wichita Marathon on October 19. My goal is to run a marathon before I'm 30, I have five months. And the goal isn't just to run it, but to qualify for Boston while I'm at it.

So this is my somewhat tragic, ridiculous, and irreverent tale of my quest to Boston.