In case you didn't know, the Boston marathon fills up fast--really fast. As in, you better register as soon as you're allowed to (based on your qualifying time), or you probably won't get in. So, when it opened last year, I signed up thinking it would be my spring goal race. Then I went all ultra (and I am still riding/loving that wave) and my goal race changed to the LBL 60K. In case you missed that, you can read about it here. The point is, LBL and Boston are only about 4 and a half weeks apart. Seems like a long time, I know, but after training for an ultra and then actually COMPLETING it, it's not.
When I set my sights on LBL, I decided that I'd race Boston if I was feeling good. Maybe not go all out, but at least try to beat my marathon best of 3:18. After all, I'm fit from the ultra training. The day after the ultra, despite having a really banged up knee, I felt surprisingly good. I was not really sore anywhere--that's the difference between pounding trails and pounding pavement.
HOWEVER (don't you hate those?), about a week after the ultra I began experiencing some IT band pain in my left knee. I managed to stay sans injury for many months in building up to LBL, but the race itself damaged me. I suppose it was worth it. Anyway--it came and went for about a week, and then I did a 20 miler in Buddha, which has a ton of downhills, and it flared up angrily. That was a few weeks ago, and it's been angry ever since.
So I took a few days off, rolled, iced, Grastoned, had Tim work on it with a wrench, got a lot of prayer from my awesome small group members, and it just didn't get any better. Not any worse, mind you, but not any better. Most long distance runners will shudder or even vomit at the thought of IT band syndrome. It. Hurts. And it's hard to get rid of. It usually hits around mile 3-4 of my run, and feels, basically, like there is an ice pick in the side of my knee. It's caused by inflammation of the bursa sack that underlies the IT band. There is no risk of permanent injury by running on it, but it makes running really not fun. I'm positive I got it from all the downhills at LBL. Anyway, the thought of running Boston (which has a lot of downhill--I can just see all you runners who've had this injury wincing) in this condition was not very, um, attractive.
So I opted for a cortisone injection. Now, hold on...hold the phone. Don't flip out on me here. So many people are phobic of cortisone. You'd think it was cyanide. Now, let me say that I do agree that cortisone should not be used on a routine basis--it should only be used when one has paid tons of money for airfare, entry fee, and hotel in Boston and can't get through the race without it. Seriously, though, I've had several cortisone injections and I've never had a bad outcome. People will tell you that it will eat your tendons up. Which is why you should never get an injection directly into a tendon! EVER! I cannot imagine that any physician would actually even do that, but if you find one who wants to, go the other way.
I did not have my actual IT band (which is not a tendon, but a thick, fibrous band that has been described by scientists as being as indestructible as a rubber tire) injected. Rather, I had the bursa sack beneath it (which is supposed to act as a cushion, but when inflamed acts as an ice pick) injected. This was not pleasant, as the needle went all the way to my femur. But I've endured worse. This was yesterday, and it should take 48-72 hours to really "work." I just ran four miles and am MUCH better--I'd say 60-70%. So I'm hopeful that I can actually finish the race.
So, we're going to Boston. Not just me, and not just Tim--but a whole buncha Bedford-ites. It's a big group. In addition to the Millers, we've got Jimmy, Bill, Robin, Kathy, Allen, John, and I hope I didn't forget anyone else who is going. *I am not racing.* I may be stupid sometimes when it comes to running, but I'm not THAT stupid. First, my legs are still not recovered from that 60K. No way, no how. Second, I'm not in racing shape. I mean I have a huge base, but I've done no marathon-specific training. I've done a crap ton of long runs, but that only gets you so far. Third, I'm running on an injured leg. Though I may not feel it, I know it's still injured. It came about because I didn't recover enough, so there is no need to push it to race effort and give myself another injury. Fourth, and most importantly, I have no desire to race this race.
That may sound strange to many of you, and some of you may say you'll never understand it. All I can say is that I don't want to race. I just want to run. I've raced two road marathons and one ultra. I've done a marathon in training (on a 30 mile trail run with Tim and Scott--still one of my favorite runs ever). I've done a lot of racing recently.
Most of you know that Boston is kind of a "big deal." You have to qualify to get in. I've never really thought of it as a big deal personally, but it is to a lot of people. Some work years in order to qualify. I don't care about qualifying for any marathon, so long as I can run it, so I don't really view Boston as a celebration of me being able to qualify. If I'm being honest, the whole Boston thing kind of irritates me. And this is by no means meant to offend anyone who loves that race. I just feel that it adds pressure to a sport that should be so purely enjoyed. I hate to see people beat themselves up over not qualifying, and I hate to see qualified runners treat unqualified runners differently (this is not the norm, by the way, but it does happen). So you'll never see me wearing a Boston jacket or drinking out of a Boston coffee mug (Tim already has like five anyway) simply because I think that it is not good for the overall morale of the sport, and I absolutely HATE that they make so much money off of runners who come to run that race and most, if not all, is taken as profit. Okay, Boston rant over.
So I'm turning my Boston marathon into a celebration run. I know that sounds silly and almost Disney-esque (I do have a Minnie tattoo, you know), but it's the only way to describe how I'm approaching it. I was running with Jimmy on the highway, from Bloomington to Bedford, a couple of weeks ago, and I just said to him "I'm running it as a celebration." And that is what I'm going to do.
I'm celebrating the fact that, in a year's time, I have been completely transformed. The horror in which I was living when I was running this time last year (if you missed that, you can read all about it in my 2011 entries) has completely abated. The ability to enjoy running was taken from me temporarily, and, now that I have it back, I will never take for granted again how wonderful and natural every foot strike feels. I will never forget to be thankful to God that he has instilled in me this passion and ability for running. I will never cease to glorify God and attempt to help others through my running. I used to only care about my time goals (and I do still have them, but they're a much lower priority), and now I am deeply invested in how my running affects other people. It might seem strange to think about me running some marathon actually helping other people. But, like it or not, running is something I'm supposed to be doing. God is using me in that way. Connecting me with people in that way. And I am so, so completely and utterly thankful for that.
I'm celebrating the fact that I have a wonderful life and a wonderful family. Gag, I know, but I do. I went through some really dark, dark years before I met Tim in 2008. And, since then, my life has been so wonderfully different. I have a daughter who is a disciple of Christ and one of the funniest people I know. She has a heart of gold. I have a 19-month-old who incessantly talks about puppies and loves to kiss my nose. I have a husband who babies me to death and puts up with my irrational thoughts. I have a brother, Wes, who is my best friend in the entire world. I cannot imagine my life without him. I have a dear friend and running coach, Scott, who feels like a member of my family. We love him dearly! I have a mom who, though we disagree a lot, loves me to pieces and would do anything in the world for me. I have a dad who is incredibly like me in many ways--he "gets" me. He is one of the few people I know who shares my insane passion for running. I have a step-mom who has always made me feel part of my dad's family and she loves to spend time with me. I have another brother, Michael, who is very dear to my heart. Though he can be stubborn sometimes, I always think of him as sweet little Mike Tyke. I have a younger sister, Mia, who texts me and sends me sweet/funny Facebook messages. And it could go on and on.
And, lastly, I'm celebrating the heck out of my new freedom as a Christian. You may have never thought of Christianity=freedom, but it does. I cannot express in words how absolutely turned-upside-down my life has been since I met my dear friend Rachel Noirot and began attending High Rock church. You can read my coming-out-as-a-Christian blog post here, but let me take this opportunity (since it's my blog and all) to say that I was, a year ago, an atheist. And I was really hateful and miserable inside. I didn't appear to be a "bad person," but I was a slave to my own thoughts. No more. I am free. And I love it. My life is not necessarily easier--in many ways it's more challenging--but boy, oh boy is it better.
So I have no time goal in Boston. Not at all. I'll run with my Bedford friends, and I may even run behind them. But, assuming the IT band holds up, know that I'm out there focusing on the many blessings in my life. Run free, friends.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Land Between the Lakes 60K Race Report
37.2 miles. Done. My race report for this race was featured in another blog, The Perspectives Running Blog. She did such a good job with inserting photos, etc. that I see no reason to do anything other than direct you to that report. To read it, go to http://runperspective.blogspot.com/2012/03/after-land-between-lakes-60k.html
It was an excellent event, but I still vote for Louisville's Lovin' the Hills as the best, most fun race I've ever completed. That one will be tough to beat, at least for me, because I'm all nostalgic about it.
I am on spring break, and I've made it a goal to do a REALLY good blog post before break is over. Today, however, is not that day. Stay tuned, of course.
It was an excellent event, but I still vote for Louisville's Lovin' the Hills as the best, most fun race I've ever completed. That one will be tough to beat, at least for me, because I'm all nostalgic about it.
I am on spring break, and I've made it a goal to do a REALLY good blog post before break is over. Today, however, is not that day. Stay tuned, of course.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Louisville Lovin' the Hills Race Report: God's Playground
I almost didn't write this race report. But I'm hoping that I (and you!) will be glad that I did.
Louisville Lovin' the Hills (hereafter "LLTH") is a trail race held in Kentucky. It is, as the name suggests, quite hilly. As will become clear to you, however, NO name could ever prepare you for just how hilly this race is. It's actually three different races--a 6 mile "fun run," 15 miler (the most popular), and a 50K (which is, for those of you who don't speak running fluently, a bit over 31 miles). Each race is 100% on trails.
If it hadn't been for my friend Scott, I wouldn't have even known of this race. However, as he helped me prepare for my 60K next month, I became aware that his next goal race was the LLTH 50K. It was decided that the 15 mile version of this race would be a good tune up in terms of running on technical trails. It would also be a good hill workout for Boston.
Before I dive on in, let me just put it out there, for those of you who might not read this report in its entirety, that LLTH is the best, most fun race I've ever run (excluding, possibly, Dances with Dirt--but that is a relay, so it doesn't really count). The entire experience, from the pre-race pasta party to the post-race soup feast, was undeniably the best running-related thing I've EVER done. So, you should really, really do it next year.
Now, I shall let my verbosity run wild. Tim and I headed down to Louisville Friday afternoon. We had found a hotel close to the race start, and were going to share it with my dad, who was also running. All three of us were doing the 15 miler, while Scott was signed up for the 50K. I flirted, on the way down to the race, with the idea of running the 50K as a "practice" for my 60K. Let me just say, I would not have been at all prepared for it given the terrain.
Now, this is not the first trail race I've ever done. I've done two trail half marathons and a 15K. It is, however, the first "kind of big" trail race I've ever done, and certainly the first of any that are associated with an ultra. I mention this so that you know how unexpected what I'm about to describe to you actually was to me at the time it was occurring.
We picked our packets up at a local running store. Packet pickups are usually not fun. At all. They are either stressful, take forever, or both. However, from the moment we walked in the store, I could tell this one was different. A small woman sat behind a fold up table that was covered with envelopes. She had no computer, but a notebook and a pen. We told her our names, she handed over the packets, the hooded sweatshirts, and told us we were in for a real treat the next day. There, we met up with Scott and his friend Jon. I know Scott, of course, but had never met Jon. Jon is also an ultra runner. Let me just tell you...ultra runners (or the ones I've met) are simply really, really nice people. Not just nice...but thoughtful. "Where are you from? Is this your first trail race?" And then they give you some really helpful advice about fluids, nutrition, etc. And my favorite part? THEY NEVER TALK ABOUT TIMES. Ever. Well, I shouldn't say never--they seem to sometimes talk about course records at some of the major ultras--Western States, Leadville, etc., but they don't corner you and ask you what you're planning to do that day.
If you ever run a major road marathon, you won't believe how many times you'll be asked, in the corral before the start, "What's your goal?" And if you don't happen to have a goal...those road runners will look at you like you are insane, sick, or both. Ultra runners? It doesn't even occur to them to ask...they are just so wonderfully pleased that people are coming out to run the trails. So what I'm trying to say is that Jon was this way, and it made me feel good and relaxed (many of you know I'm generally a basket case before races).
Imagine, then, how relaxed I became when I was thrust into an entire ROOM of ultra runners! Let me back up, though--we learned, from the race blog (which is also a complete anomaly--road races don't have bloggers who go out on the course every day, take pictures, and report back to the runners about the condition of the course), that there was going to be a pre-race party--a pasta dinner--held at one of the sponsor's (Quest Outdoors) the night before the race. So we decided to go.
A lot of races, including big ones like Chicago and Boston, have pre-race pasta feeds. Yes, they actually call them feeds. Because that's what they feel like. You give them a ticket, and you are rushed through a big line where you grab spaghetti, salad, and an over-sized chocolate chip cookie. You eat and fold out tables and then get out of there. This pre-race dinner was so very, very different. But in a good way.
We walked into the store, and wonderful aromas hit us. And then, almost every person already inside turned to look at us: "Hey, come on in...get some grub!" We were shown all the food, where plates/utensils/drinks/desserts were, and told to get as much as we liked and take any seat we wanted. Music was playing--unobtrusively--in the background. Every single person there, eating or not, acknowledged us with at least a head nod. The food was all home-made by ultra runners or their spouses. Tons of different pasta salads, spaghetti, two types of lasagna, homemade cookies, candy, and cinnamon rolls.
"Wow" was all Tim and I could say. The atmosphere was downright laid back. Weren't these people nervous? Didn't we have to hurry up and eat to make room for other people? Actually, no to both. Sponsors came over to us and thanked us so much for coming. The race directors were there, and they wanted to know all about us. Did we want more food? More to drink? Were we comfortable? There's a word for that kind of stuff....it's called hospitality. And LLTH was running over with it.
Tim and I met up with dad at the hotel, and it was lights out early. I went to bed not nervous about the race, though slightly concerned about the forecast, which was calling for snow, temps in the low 20s, and 20 mph winds. Still, though, I knew it was going to be fun.
Race morning, we got up early, agonized over what to wear, and set out for the trails. It was very, very cold...and very, very windy. Driving up to the start, the car had trouble making it up the hills. That is not a good feeling when you're about to go run the terrain. We arrived at the start, and thankfully we had a heated building to be in while we waited. Of course, everyone was super friendly and no one was nervous--perhaps about the weather, but not about their times. Before I knew it, it was time to head out.
I was wearing full tights, two shirts, gloves, and an ear band. I was not sure if I was under- or over-dressed, but figured I probably hadn't gotten it perfectly right. But there was no more time to decide. We saw Scott at the start and I lined up behind him and Tim. One of the runners led a prayer, thanking God for supplying us with this "outdoor church," and we were off.
I had to hold back. The first part was downhill, and I was feeling good. But I had told myself I HAD...H-A-D...to start easy given the difficulty of the terrain (which my new ultra friends liked to call, for some reason, a "real treat"). I wanted the first few miles to feel like a training run. And they did, but I went much faster than I probably should have. My first two miles were around 7:10 (very fast on a trail...well, for me, anyway). But I was just flying down the hills and enjoying the terra firma beneath me (given the last two trail runs I've done have been mud fests).
Here's how the course worked...a six mile loop, then a 1.5 mile straight section, another (different) six mile loop, and back on the straight section to the finish. I can say that the first loop was surprisingly not THAT brutal. Now, there were some steep, steep climbs in it (apparently Kentuckians haven't gotten the memo about something called the switchback), but overall it wasn't as bad as I expected. It was still the hardest terrain I'd ever been on, but I had feared worse. So when I finished the first 4 miles at a 7:30 average, I was really pleased. I felt awesome--strong, fast, and HAPPY. Nothing, aside from a knee that I fell on and bashed earlier in the week, was hurting. And I had enormous energy, even on the climbs. I finished the first 6 mile loop hardly able to believe I had already gone that far.
As I entered into the second loop, I had been running with another guy for quite some time. His name was Kyle. We talked all about running (he's finished five 100 milers!), our kids, our jobs, and our spouses. He would pass me on the uphills, and I passed him on every single downhill. But we always ended up at the same place on the (very few!) flats. Soon, he decided to hang back, as he was running the 50K. Just as he did, we passed a spectator who told me I was the second woman. "Go get first!" he cried. And I took off, but I couldn't even see first. And I didn't really care, because I was having a ton of fun.
And then it got hard. So very, very, indescribably hard. The second 6-mile loop was...I don't even have the words. It was outrageous. Climbs a mile long that went, and I'm not kidding, STRAIGHT UP INTO THE AIR. Many of them couldn't be run...hardly even walked! My pace dropped into the 9's, and I was pushing it. And it wasn't just the uphills, it was the downhills. They were jarring me to death. I could hear my brain inside my skull as I flew down those steep declines. I could feel the weight on my knees and my IT bands. And just when I finally got on flat ground? Time to go up (and up, and up!!!) again.
I was still having fun, though, because I'd picked up a new running buddy. I never got his name, I'm ashamed to say, but he passed me very early on, maybe a mile into the race, and I caught up with him about 8 miles in. "How do you run those downhills so fast?" he asked. "I just let go." "Doesn't that hurt your brain...your head?" "Yes, but I do it anyway." And that's what got us talking. I told him how I'd never done an ultra before, and he's done the one I'm going to do several times. We talked races and trail shoes, and then he asked me something unexpected. He said, "So, why do you run?" He happened to ask this right at the base of some mile-long monster hill, so I had some time to think about it before we got back into talking air. No one has ever asked me that question before.
"I run," I said, "because I'm supposed to. I'm meant for it. God gave me the passion for it, and he lets me do it. He wants me to do it." What this guy didn't know is the horror I had been through a year earlier when my mysterious abdominal pain had kept me from being able to enjoy running. My passion had become a torment. Something that I had been so fond of, and so good at, was being taken away from me. "That's cool," he said. And I asked him why he ran. "I still don't know," he said, "That's why I asked you. I'm always waiting for someone else's answer to click. And that's about the best answer I've heard." We carried on in silence a little while, and then came to another climb. It was so steep that I couldn't even stay vertical on it. I got on hands and knees (truly) and began to scale it. He laughed, and I asked what was so funny. "Your God, he has a funny idea of a playground for us, doesn't he?" I would have laughed, but I was using all of my oxygen to climb (i.e. crawl up) the hill.
We made it to the top, and my legs were utterly trashed. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, but I couldn't get the notion of God's playground out of my head. Because that's truly what it is. God wants his children to be happy, to enjoy His creation. To use His creation (our bodies) to enjoy His creation (the Earth). And if you have any doubt about that, you should go play in the woods sometime--hiking, running, whatever. The only way I can describe it is to tell you that it feels "right." Even when it hurts. Even when you have to crawl. It feels right. Racing does not always feel right, but running, and especially trail running, certainly does.
I zipped down the downhills as though they were slides, and I was reduced to a walk--not even a brisk one--on some of the steepest climbs that appeared in the last few miles. At some point, I got separated from my friend (he pulled away), and I ran the last mile by myself. I was acutely aware of several things. One was how strong I felt. I didn't feel fast, and my legs were trashed, but I still felt strong. Another was how extremely privileged I am to engage in this activity. And yet another is that running is part of my relationship with God. It is a gift He has given me, and now that I'm using it in the way He wants me to, I've never been happier.
I finished strong. I did not bother to sprint because 1) I had just climbed half a mile and a sprint would have looked the same as a jog at that point and 2) I didn't really care about my time. Honestly--I did not. Yes, I promise I'm still the same person you always knew, and I'm not being dishonest when I tell you I didn't care. I kind of had a goal of breaking 2:30, but I hadn't even looked at my watch until the finish. In fact...now, I hope you're sitting down for this...I delayed stopping my watch by probably 20 seconds in order to high five some of the people I had run with. I finished in 2:23:25, a 9:30 average.
As soon as I crossed, I was handed a wooden, heart-shaped ornament, a small tree to plant, and a free fuel belt (for finishing second woman). A guy bent down to cut my chip off, and I informed him I'd tied it with my shoe laces. He didn't roll his eyes at me, he said "Oh, okay, and went after it." I tried to help, but he stopped me, saying "Nah, I'll get it, I'm sure your hands are cold!" And he untied my chip and asked me all about my race. Then he directed me inside the warm building where every kind of soup and cookie imaginable was awaiting me. As well as live music. And a bunch of trail runners.
I finally reunited with Tim, and we sat down to eat. I said to him "This is the most fun I've ever had at a race." That statement still stands. Dad finished right at 3 hours, and Scott finished third in the 50K. I will definitely be back next year...and I'm hoping for the 50K. Gulp.
Louisville Lovin' the Hills (hereafter "LLTH") is a trail race held in Kentucky. It is, as the name suggests, quite hilly. As will become clear to you, however, NO name could ever prepare you for just how hilly this race is. It's actually three different races--a 6 mile "fun run," 15 miler (the most popular), and a 50K (which is, for those of you who don't speak running fluently, a bit over 31 miles). Each race is 100% on trails.
If it hadn't been for my friend Scott, I wouldn't have even known of this race. However, as he helped me prepare for my 60K next month, I became aware that his next goal race was the LLTH 50K. It was decided that the 15 mile version of this race would be a good tune up in terms of running on technical trails. It would also be a good hill workout for Boston.
Before I dive on in, let me just put it out there, for those of you who might not read this report in its entirety, that LLTH is the best, most fun race I've ever run (excluding, possibly, Dances with Dirt--but that is a relay, so it doesn't really count). The entire experience, from the pre-race pasta party to the post-race soup feast, was undeniably the best running-related thing I've EVER done. So, you should really, really do it next year.
Now, I shall let my verbosity run wild. Tim and I headed down to Louisville Friday afternoon. We had found a hotel close to the race start, and were going to share it with my dad, who was also running. All three of us were doing the 15 miler, while Scott was signed up for the 50K. I flirted, on the way down to the race, with the idea of running the 50K as a "practice" for my 60K. Let me just say, I would not have been at all prepared for it given the terrain.
Now, this is not the first trail race I've ever done. I've done two trail half marathons and a 15K. It is, however, the first "kind of big" trail race I've ever done, and certainly the first of any that are associated with an ultra. I mention this so that you know how unexpected what I'm about to describe to you actually was to me at the time it was occurring.
We picked our packets up at a local running store. Packet pickups are usually not fun. At all. They are either stressful, take forever, or both. However, from the moment we walked in the store, I could tell this one was different. A small woman sat behind a fold up table that was covered with envelopes. She had no computer, but a notebook and a pen. We told her our names, she handed over the packets, the hooded sweatshirts, and told us we were in for a real treat the next day. There, we met up with Scott and his friend Jon. I know Scott, of course, but had never met Jon. Jon is also an ultra runner. Let me just tell you...ultra runners (or the ones I've met) are simply really, really nice people. Not just nice...but thoughtful. "Where are you from? Is this your first trail race?" And then they give you some really helpful advice about fluids, nutrition, etc. And my favorite part? THEY NEVER TALK ABOUT TIMES. Ever. Well, I shouldn't say never--they seem to sometimes talk about course records at some of the major ultras--Western States, Leadville, etc., but they don't corner you and ask you what you're planning to do that day.
If you ever run a major road marathon, you won't believe how many times you'll be asked, in the corral before the start, "What's your goal?" And if you don't happen to have a goal...those road runners will look at you like you are insane, sick, or both. Ultra runners? It doesn't even occur to them to ask...they are just so wonderfully pleased that people are coming out to run the trails. So what I'm trying to say is that Jon was this way, and it made me feel good and relaxed (many of you know I'm generally a basket case before races).
Imagine, then, how relaxed I became when I was thrust into an entire ROOM of ultra runners! Let me back up, though--we learned, from the race blog (which is also a complete anomaly--road races don't have bloggers who go out on the course every day, take pictures, and report back to the runners about the condition of the course), that there was going to be a pre-race party--a pasta dinner--held at one of the sponsor's (Quest Outdoors) the night before the race. So we decided to go.
A lot of races, including big ones like Chicago and Boston, have pre-race pasta feeds. Yes, they actually call them feeds. Because that's what they feel like. You give them a ticket, and you are rushed through a big line where you grab spaghetti, salad, and an over-sized chocolate chip cookie. You eat and fold out tables and then get out of there. This pre-race dinner was so very, very different. But in a good way.
We walked into the store, and wonderful aromas hit us. And then, almost every person already inside turned to look at us: "Hey, come on in...get some grub!" We were shown all the food, where plates/utensils/drinks/desserts were, and told to get as much as we liked and take any seat we wanted. Music was playing--unobtrusively--in the background. Every single person there, eating or not, acknowledged us with at least a head nod. The food was all home-made by ultra runners or their spouses. Tons of different pasta salads, spaghetti, two types of lasagna, homemade cookies, candy, and cinnamon rolls.
"Wow" was all Tim and I could say. The atmosphere was downright laid back. Weren't these people nervous? Didn't we have to hurry up and eat to make room for other people? Actually, no to both. Sponsors came over to us and thanked us so much for coming. The race directors were there, and they wanted to know all about us. Did we want more food? More to drink? Were we comfortable? There's a word for that kind of stuff....it's called hospitality. And LLTH was running over with it.
Tim and I met up with dad at the hotel, and it was lights out early. I went to bed not nervous about the race, though slightly concerned about the forecast, which was calling for snow, temps in the low 20s, and 20 mph winds. Still, though, I knew it was going to be fun.
Race morning, we got up early, agonized over what to wear, and set out for the trails. It was very, very cold...and very, very windy. Driving up to the start, the car had trouble making it up the hills. That is not a good feeling when you're about to go run the terrain. We arrived at the start, and thankfully we had a heated building to be in while we waited. Of course, everyone was super friendly and no one was nervous--perhaps about the weather, but not about their times. Before I knew it, it was time to head out.
I was wearing full tights, two shirts, gloves, and an ear band. I was not sure if I was under- or over-dressed, but figured I probably hadn't gotten it perfectly right. But there was no more time to decide. We saw Scott at the start and I lined up behind him and Tim. One of the runners led a prayer, thanking God for supplying us with this "outdoor church," and we were off.
I had to hold back. The first part was downhill, and I was feeling good. But I had told myself I HAD...H-A-D...to start easy given the difficulty of the terrain (which my new ultra friends liked to call, for some reason, a "real treat"). I wanted the first few miles to feel like a training run. And they did, but I went much faster than I probably should have. My first two miles were around 7:10 (very fast on a trail...well, for me, anyway). But I was just flying down the hills and enjoying the terra firma beneath me (given the last two trail runs I've done have been mud fests).
Here's how the course worked...a six mile loop, then a 1.5 mile straight section, another (different) six mile loop, and back on the straight section to the finish. I can say that the first loop was surprisingly not THAT brutal. Now, there were some steep, steep climbs in it (apparently Kentuckians haven't gotten the memo about something called the switchback), but overall it wasn't as bad as I expected. It was still the hardest terrain I'd ever been on, but I had feared worse. So when I finished the first 4 miles at a 7:30 average, I was really pleased. I felt awesome--strong, fast, and HAPPY. Nothing, aside from a knee that I fell on and bashed earlier in the week, was hurting. And I had enormous energy, even on the climbs. I finished the first 6 mile loop hardly able to believe I had already gone that far.
As I entered into the second loop, I had been running with another guy for quite some time. His name was Kyle. We talked all about running (he's finished five 100 milers!), our kids, our jobs, and our spouses. He would pass me on the uphills, and I passed him on every single downhill. But we always ended up at the same place on the (very few!) flats. Soon, he decided to hang back, as he was running the 50K. Just as he did, we passed a spectator who told me I was the second woman. "Go get first!" he cried. And I took off, but I couldn't even see first. And I didn't really care, because I was having a ton of fun.
And then it got hard. So very, very, indescribably hard. The second 6-mile loop was...I don't even have the words. It was outrageous. Climbs a mile long that went, and I'm not kidding, STRAIGHT UP INTO THE AIR. Many of them couldn't be run...hardly even walked! My pace dropped into the 9's, and I was pushing it. And it wasn't just the uphills, it was the downhills. They were jarring me to death. I could hear my brain inside my skull as I flew down those steep declines. I could feel the weight on my knees and my IT bands. And just when I finally got on flat ground? Time to go up (and up, and up!!!) again.
I was still having fun, though, because I'd picked up a new running buddy. I never got his name, I'm ashamed to say, but he passed me very early on, maybe a mile into the race, and I caught up with him about 8 miles in. "How do you run those downhills so fast?" he asked. "I just let go." "Doesn't that hurt your brain...your head?" "Yes, but I do it anyway." And that's what got us talking. I told him how I'd never done an ultra before, and he's done the one I'm going to do several times. We talked races and trail shoes, and then he asked me something unexpected. He said, "So, why do you run?" He happened to ask this right at the base of some mile-long monster hill, so I had some time to think about it before we got back into talking air. No one has ever asked me that question before.
"I run," I said, "because I'm supposed to. I'm meant for it. God gave me the passion for it, and he lets me do it. He wants me to do it." What this guy didn't know is the horror I had been through a year earlier when my mysterious abdominal pain had kept me from being able to enjoy running. My passion had become a torment. Something that I had been so fond of, and so good at, was being taken away from me. "That's cool," he said. And I asked him why he ran. "I still don't know," he said, "That's why I asked you. I'm always waiting for someone else's answer to click. And that's about the best answer I've heard." We carried on in silence a little while, and then came to another climb. It was so steep that I couldn't even stay vertical on it. I got on hands and knees (truly) and began to scale it. He laughed, and I asked what was so funny. "Your God, he has a funny idea of a playground for us, doesn't he?" I would have laughed, but I was using all of my oxygen to climb (i.e. crawl up) the hill.
We made it to the top, and my legs were utterly trashed. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, but I couldn't get the notion of God's playground out of my head. Because that's truly what it is. God wants his children to be happy, to enjoy His creation. To use His creation (our bodies) to enjoy His creation (the Earth). And if you have any doubt about that, you should go play in the woods sometime--hiking, running, whatever. The only way I can describe it is to tell you that it feels "right." Even when it hurts. Even when you have to crawl. It feels right. Racing does not always feel right, but running, and especially trail running, certainly does.
I zipped down the downhills as though they were slides, and I was reduced to a walk--not even a brisk one--on some of the steepest climbs that appeared in the last few miles. At some point, I got separated from my friend (he pulled away), and I ran the last mile by myself. I was acutely aware of several things. One was how strong I felt. I didn't feel fast, and my legs were trashed, but I still felt strong. Another was how extremely privileged I am to engage in this activity. And yet another is that running is part of my relationship with God. It is a gift He has given me, and now that I'm using it in the way He wants me to, I've never been happier.
I finished strong. I did not bother to sprint because 1) I had just climbed half a mile and a sprint would have looked the same as a jog at that point and 2) I didn't really care about my time. Honestly--I did not. Yes, I promise I'm still the same person you always knew, and I'm not being dishonest when I tell you I didn't care. I kind of had a goal of breaking 2:30, but I hadn't even looked at my watch until the finish. In fact...now, I hope you're sitting down for this...I delayed stopping my watch by probably 20 seconds in order to high five some of the people I had run with. I finished in 2:23:25, a 9:30 average.
As soon as I crossed, I was handed a wooden, heart-shaped ornament, a small tree to plant, and a free fuel belt (for finishing second woman). A guy bent down to cut my chip off, and I informed him I'd tied it with my shoe laces. He didn't roll his eyes at me, he said "Oh, okay, and went after it." I tried to help, but he stopped me, saying "Nah, I'll get it, I'm sure your hands are cold!" And he untied my chip and asked me all about my race. Then he directed me inside the warm building where every kind of soup and cookie imaginable was awaiting me. As well as live music. And a bunch of trail runners.
I finally reunited with Tim, and we sat down to eat. I said to him "This is the most fun I've ever had at a race." That statement still stands. Dad finished right at 3 hours, and Scott finished third in the 50K. I will definitely be back next year...and I'm hoping for the 50K. Gulp.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Happy Trails
That's a really bad/trite title, I know, but I can't conjure a better one. It's my not-so-cute way of saying that I've decided, along with my dad, to focus on trail races for the next I-don't-know-how-many months.
Since I began running (fall of 2008), I've always run on trails pretty regularly. Mostly because the people I ran with ran on them every so often, and I would sometimes be dragged along. I've always enjoyed trail running (I have very strong quads and am a good hill runner), but have never taken trail racing all that seriously. I've run two trail halves, two trail relays (Dances with Dirt--my favorite race ever), and a trail 15K. Though I've won a couple of them overall, I've never trained specifically for these races.
That is changing, at least temporarily. As you know, I didn't get to run the Tecumseh Trail Marathon a couple of weeks ago (you can read about it here). I was very bummed about that, as it was going to be great training for what is my next true goal race: The Land Between the Lakes 60K. Yeah, it's an ultra. I know, I know...an ULTRA. It's so ultra that I had to calculate how many miles 60K is (37, by the way).
Now how did someone like me, a road/Garmin fiend, become interested in running a trail 60K? The honest answer is that I'm not exactly sure. It just kind of happened. I was feeling spiritually pulled in that direction after Chicago (yes, really), but hadn't really thought about it seriously. Then a bunch of things happened in my (and Tim's) life that just made it a better fit for right now. I'm not worried about running a certain time* at LBL, I'm just interested in getting really, really fit and strong. And, mostly, I'm interested in enjoying running in its most organic form. That means running to enjoy it. Not that I haven't been enjoying it since I began running three years ago, but it's just not possible for me to kill it out on the roads right now. I'm starting a brand new tenure-track faculty position, and have a very busy family life right now. And, for whatever reason, I want to run and race on the trails! I am SO insanely lucky to have one of my dear friends and extremely talented runner, Scott Breeden, helping me throughout this process.
If you remember, I had a bad experience with running shortly after Rowan was born (which is why I started this blog to begin with--you can read about it in the earliest entries). That experience has so radically changed my perspective on running. It used to be that I thought I was worthless if I couldn't run a certain pace or win overall. Now? I'm humbly thankful for each pain-free running step that I take. I mean it--every time I run, before I start and after I finish, and often along the way, I thank God for my ability to do this. It's a wonderful, beautiful thing to be able to do.
Now, I still have a couple of road races planned. Houston Half Marathon in January (we signed up because we want to watch the trials, which are the day before), and of course the Boston Marathon in April. I'm racing the former, running the latter with a group of friends. All I can tell you is that I'm going to thoroughly enjoy myself. Every. Single. Step.
Stay tuned for my year-in-review blog post!
*At the LBL 60K, there is an $800 prize for breaking the course record (which is a very modest 8:40 pace). I'm going to go out at that pace and see what happens.
Since I began running (fall of 2008), I've always run on trails pretty regularly. Mostly because the people I ran with ran on them every so often, and I would sometimes be dragged along. I've always enjoyed trail running (I have very strong quads and am a good hill runner), but have never taken trail racing all that seriously. I've run two trail halves, two trail relays (Dances with Dirt--my favorite race ever), and a trail 15K. Though I've won a couple of them overall, I've never trained specifically for these races.
That is changing, at least temporarily. As you know, I didn't get to run the Tecumseh Trail Marathon a couple of weeks ago (you can read about it here). I was very bummed about that, as it was going to be great training for what is my next true goal race: The Land Between the Lakes 60K. Yeah, it's an ultra. I know, I know...an ULTRA. It's so ultra that I had to calculate how many miles 60K is (37, by the way).
Now how did someone like me, a road/Garmin fiend, become interested in running a trail 60K? The honest answer is that I'm not exactly sure. It just kind of happened. I was feeling spiritually pulled in that direction after Chicago (yes, really), but hadn't really thought about it seriously. Then a bunch of things happened in my (and Tim's) life that just made it a better fit for right now. I'm not worried about running a certain time* at LBL, I'm just interested in getting really, really fit and strong. And, mostly, I'm interested in enjoying running in its most organic form. That means running to enjoy it. Not that I haven't been enjoying it since I began running three years ago, but it's just not possible for me to kill it out on the roads right now. I'm starting a brand new tenure-track faculty position, and have a very busy family life right now. And, for whatever reason, I want to run and race on the trails! I am SO insanely lucky to have one of my dear friends and extremely talented runner, Scott Breeden, helping me throughout this process.
If you remember, I had a bad experience with running shortly after Rowan was born (which is why I started this blog to begin with--you can read about it in the earliest entries). That experience has so radically changed my perspective on running. It used to be that I thought I was worthless if I couldn't run a certain pace or win overall. Now? I'm humbly thankful for each pain-free running step that I take. I mean it--every time I run, before I start and after I finish, and often along the way, I thank God for my ability to do this. It's a wonderful, beautiful thing to be able to do.
Now, I still have a couple of road races planned. Houston Half Marathon in January (we signed up because we want to watch the trials, which are the day before), and of course the Boston Marathon in April. I'm racing the former, running the latter with a group of friends. All I can tell you is that I'm going to thoroughly enjoy myself. Every. Single. Step.
Stay tuned for my year-in-review blog post!
*At the LBL 60K, there is an $800 prize for breaking the course record (which is a very modest 8:40 pace). I'm going to go out at that pace and see what happens.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Tecumseh Marathon Debacle
Not that it's any fault of the marathon itself. Tecumseh is an awesome race. Or so I've heard. I've never run it (despite having signed up twice), but that was to change today.
It didn't. I wasn't trained for it, but that wasn't the reason I DNS'd.
Some background. Since my blow up at Chicago, my training has been entirely focused on re-building my broken body, and on learning how to train appropriately. My longest run has been about 8 miles (INCREDIBLY short for me). I had no business running a marathon. But the Bowders were coming all the way from Vancouver, Washington so that Mark could run Tecumseh. And I was supposed to run it with him.
A short time ago, I had decided to only run part of Tecumseh with him, perhaps the last half...given my lack of long run and trail training. But before the race I decided I would run the entire thing. The pace would not be an issue for me, and Mark's goal was just to have fun. Since I have come to realize over the last 12 months that I am in love with running because of the FUN part of it and not the ultra-competitive part of it, I wanted to do the entire thing. And so it was decided.
Friday, the day before the race, Tim, Mark, and I did a short shake out run. I felt great. I was getting SO pumped for the race. We went to packet pick up, and then out to dinner with some friends. Everyone does this the night before a marathon. The goal is to load up on carbs, and so most people go for Italian. And our party was no different.
I had been in charge of finding us a place to eat, and we couldn't get a reservation at any of our usual Italian places in Bloomington--the really good ones like Grazie! or Olive Garden. I finally got us one, though, at DeAngelo's on Third Street. They had any time available for our party of 12. That should have tipped me off about their food, but I was just happy to find a place and made a reservation.
Once there, we got to meet some of our 365competitor friends--Clark, Charles (and his wife), and Jeff. Scott and Emily also came. I was starving and ordered the chicken/mushroom raviloi. The service was quite bad, but it paled in comparison to my actual food.
The pasta was rubbery, and the marinara sauce had a layer of oil sitting atop it. I forced myself to eat about half of the dish, but it was major work. The food was gross, but I knew I had to eat to be well-fueled for my multi-hour-long jaunt in the woods.
Once in the car and on the way home, I began feeling a little sick. I get car sick, and so I thought it might have been that. The longer I was in there, the more I was tempted to ask Tim to please pull over so that I could puke on the side of the road. I did make it home, but had let him know that I had to get to a bathroom IMMEDIATELY upon our arrival home. We got out of the car and Alec, Mark and Alita's son, promptly began vomiting. That was all I needed.
I ran inside and began my own puke-a-thon. It went on about 10 minutes and I felt better. We agreed that Alec and I had probably eaten something bad. It was my hope that it was going to be a one-time thing and done. I ate some gummy bears so as not to go to bed with a completely empty stomach (as the vomiting had cleaned me out royally). That sparked, at 1 a.m., the worst vomiting episode I've ever had in my entire life.
Without getting into details, I'll just tell you that I was, for hours, kneeling over the toilet wretching and vomiting. I slept maybe two hours after that. I couldn't believe this was happening. The night before a marathon--really? I WAS FINE before that meal! I was so angry, but I figured when I got out of bed in the morning it would all be okay.
Except, it wasn't. I was worse. Dizzy, nauseated, weak, and exhausted. I told myself just to get up, put on my running clothes, and everything would be okay. I felt like death. I ate a little bit so as to not go into a marathon completely on empty, and that prompted more vomiting. Still, I was in denial. "I can do this," I kept saying.
I kept saying that all the way up to Bloomington, where we picked up my dad. Shortly after that, though, I realized I might not be running Tecumseh. I suddenly had an intense need to puke, and told Tim to stop the car. I threw up all over the side of the road and threw myself back in the car. "I don't think I can do this," I said to Tim. All in the car agreed that I SHOULDN'T do this.
I was still convinced, though, that once I got running all the symptoms--nausea, vomiting, dizziness, weakness, and a general desire to roll over and die--would disappear. Running is always my cure-all for everything. Once we arrived at the start line, I had to immediately get out and puke again. And again. Scott and Emily showed up, and I explained to them what was going on. I told them I didn't think I could do it.
Those are really hard words for me to utter, especially when it comes to running. Scott suggested I try to jog a mile and see how I felt. I thought that was a great idea. I stood up and began jogging. I made it about 25 meters and had to puke. Tried to run some more (yes, I'm insane) and the same thing happened. In all, I made it maybe 50 meters. It was true: I couldn't do it.
I am a very strong-willed person. But sometimes there are things you can't will yourself through. Had it been an absolute life and death situation, could I have covered 26.2 miles on one of the toughest marathon courses in existence? I THINK so. But even my mind could not force my physical body to intentionally put myself through the misery that would accompany running Tecumseh while suffering from severe food poisoning.
And, with that, I took off my bib and chip, gave them to Emily (who wanted to run but didn't have an entry), and curled up in the fetal position in the car. Once they headed to the start line, I drove to my dad's house (stopping twice along the way to vomit). I could barely make it in the house (seriously). But once I did, I threw up once more, and collapsed into bed. I stayed there the remainder of the day, waking up every half hour to vomit.
I didn't fully regain consciousness until around 3:45, when I heard a text which told me that Tim had finished in 3:40 (a Tecumseh PR!). I had, for some reason, a bad feeling about Mark. And I continued my sleeping/puking routine until I finally heard from him via text.
My feeling had been right. Mark, who was still out on the course, was in trouble and struggling. He did, however, finish. As did dad, but neither he nor Mark were pleased with their races. After hearing Mark's stories, I'm not sure who had the worse day: me or him. It's a toss up.
It was, in many ways, a disappointing day. Not only do I not like spending my days semi-conscious and vomiting, but I had so looked forward to running Tecumseh with Mark. The good spin, though? This means we need to head out West so that we CAN run a race together.
It didn't. I wasn't trained for it, but that wasn't the reason I DNS'd.
Some background. Since my blow up at Chicago, my training has been entirely focused on re-building my broken body, and on learning how to train appropriately. My longest run has been about 8 miles (INCREDIBLY short for me). I had no business running a marathon. But the Bowders were coming all the way from Vancouver, Washington so that Mark could run Tecumseh. And I was supposed to run it with him.
A short time ago, I had decided to only run part of Tecumseh with him, perhaps the last half...given my lack of long run and trail training. But before the race I decided I would run the entire thing. The pace would not be an issue for me, and Mark's goal was just to have fun. Since I have come to realize over the last 12 months that I am in love with running because of the FUN part of it and not the ultra-competitive part of it, I wanted to do the entire thing. And so it was decided.
Friday, the day before the race, Tim, Mark, and I did a short shake out run. I felt great. I was getting SO pumped for the race. We went to packet pick up, and then out to dinner with some friends. Everyone does this the night before a marathon. The goal is to load up on carbs, and so most people go for Italian. And our party was no different.
I had been in charge of finding us a place to eat, and we couldn't get a reservation at any of our usual Italian places in Bloomington--the really good ones like Grazie! or Olive Garden. I finally got us one, though, at DeAngelo's on Third Street. They had any time available for our party of 12. That should have tipped me off about their food, but I was just happy to find a place and made a reservation.
Once there, we got to meet some of our 365competitor friends--Clark, Charles (and his wife), and Jeff. Scott and Emily also came. I was starving and ordered the chicken/mushroom raviloi. The service was quite bad, but it paled in comparison to my actual food.
The pasta was rubbery, and the marinara sauce had a layer of oil sitting atop it. I forced myself to eat about half of the dish, but it was major work. The food was gross, but I knew I had to eat to be well-fueled for my multi-hour-long jaunt in the woods.
Once in the car and on the way home, I began feeling a little sick. I get car sick, and so I thought it might have been that. The longer I was in there, the more I was tempted to ask Tim to please pull over so that I could puke on the side of the road. I did make it home, but had let him know that I had to get to a bathroom IMMEDIATELY upon our arrival home. We got out of the car and Alec, Mark and Alita's son, promptly began vomiting. That was all I needed.
I ran inside and began my own puke-a-thon. It went on about 10 minutes and I felt better. We agreed that Alec and I had probably eaten something bad. It was my hope that it was going to be a one-time thing and done. I ate some gummy bears so as not to go to bed with a completely empty stomach (as the vomiting had cleaned me out royally). That sparked, at 1 a.m., the worst vomiting episode I've ever had in my entire life.
Without getting into details, I'll just tell you that I was, for hours, kneeling over the toilet wretching and vomiting. I slept maybe two hours after that. I couldn't believe this was happening. The night before a marathon--really? I WAS FINE before that meal! I was so angry, but I figured when I got out of bed in the morning it would all be okay.
Except, it wasn't. I was worse. Dizzy, nauseated, weak, and exhausted. I told myself just to get up, put on my running clothes, and everything would be okay. I felt like death. I ate a little bit so as to not go into a marathon completely on empty, and that prompted more vomiting. Still, I was in denial. "I can do this," I kept saying.
I kept saying that all the way up to Bloomington, where we picked up my dad. Shortly after that, though, I realized I might not be running Tecumseh. I suddenly had an intense need to puke, and told Tim to stop the car. I threw up all over the side of the road and threw myself back in the car. "I don't think I can do this," I said to Tim. All in the car agreed that I SHOULDN'T do this.
I was still convinced, though, that once I got running all the symptoms--nausea, vomiting, dizziness, weakness, and a general desire to roll over and die--would disappear. Running is always my cure-all for everything. Once we arrived at the start line, I had to immediately get out and puke again. And again. Scott and Emily showed up, and I explained to them what was going on. I told them I didn't think I could do it.
Those are really hard words for me to utter, especially when it comes to running. Scott suggested I try to jog a mile and see how I felt. I thought that was a great idea. I stood up and began jogging. I made it about 25 meters and had to puke. Tried to run some more (yes, I'm insane) and the same thing happened. In all, I made it maybe 50 meters. It was true: I couldn't do it.
I am a very strong-willed person. But sometimes there are things you can't will yourself through. Had it been an absolute life and death situation, could I have covered 26.2 miles on one of the toughest marathon courses in existence? I THINK so. But even my mind could not force my physical body to intentionally put myself through the misery that would accompany running Tecumseh while suffering from severe food poisoning.
And, with that, I took off my bib and chip, gave them to Emily (who wanted to run but didn't have an entry), and curled up in the fetal position in the car. Once they headed to the start line, I drove to my dad's house (stopping twice along the way to vomit). I could barely make it in the house (seriously). But once I did, I threw up once more, and collapsed into bed. I stayed there the remainder of the day, waking up every half hour to vomit.
I didn't fully regain consciousness until around 3:45, when I heard a text which told me that Tim had finished in 3:40 (a Tecumseh PR!). I had, for some reason, a bad feeling about Mark. And I continued my sleeping/puking routine until I finally heard from him via text.
My feeling had been right. Mark, who was still out on the course, was in trouble and struggling. He did, however, finish. As did dad, but neither he nor Mark were pleased with their races. After hearing Mark's stories, I'm not sure who had the worse day: me or him. It's a toss up.
It was, in many ways, a disappointing day. Not only do I not like spending my days semi-conscious and vomiting, but I had so looked forward to running Tecumseh with Mark. The good spin, though? This means we need to head out West so that we CAN run a race together.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Winter!
It has arrived. Well, sort of. Lately, we've been getting a ton of cold rain. It changed, temporarily, to snow yesterday...but back to cold rain just in time for my run.
My least favorite weather to run in is that comprised of cold/wind/rain. It doesn't matter how well you dress. It's misery. There is nothing good about cold rain hitting your face. It stings. The last couple of days of running have thus been not exactly pleasant. My second least favorite running weather is cold. I'd take heat over EXTREME cold any day. By extreme cold, I mean in the teens or below. I hate it. But it's on its way.
Living in Indiana, there is no way getting around winter running...unless you run on a treadmill, and that's even worse than the cold. So, anyway, I'm ready for it! Or at least I'm telling myself that.
Now onto the exciting news--the Bowders are coming in today! All the way from Vancouver, Washington! They're here for the Tecumseh marathon. Stay tuned for details on that ;)
My least favorite weather to run in is that comprised of cold/wind/rain. It doesn't matter how well you dress. It's misery. There is nothing good about cold rain hitting your face. It stings. The last couple of days of running have thus been not exactly pleasant. My second least favorite running weather is cold. I'd take heat over EXTREME cold any day. By extreme cold, I mean in the teens or below. I hate it. But it's on its way.
Living in Indiana, there is no way getting around winter running...unless you run on a treadmill, and that's even worse than the cold. So, anyway, I'm ready for it! Or at least I'm telling myself that.
Now onto the exciting news--the Bowders are coming in today! All the way from Vancouver, Washington! They're here for the Tecumseh marathon. Stay tuned for details on that ;)
Friday, November 4, 2011
Moving Right Along
Life, that is. I have officially defended my dissertation and earned my PhD (!!!), the semester nears its end, Sara Jane is about to run an awesome race in NY, I'm loving having a (spectacular!) running coach, we're buying a new car (as in...actually NEW), and something hurts.
It's all good apart from that last bit. So, if you remember, I developed some hip pain last May. Like, a LONG time ago. When I say hip pain, I mean more like groin pain. But I know it's coming from my hip. Anyway, it was diagnosed as a hip flexor strain with resulting tendonitis. I rested it, and had a lot of Graston done by the fabulous Penny. I also strengthened my glutes. It seemed to help, but the pain would only go away for a short time, then come back.
During taper for Chicago, it got really bad. It's not that it was that bad while running, but it ached ALL THE TIME, especially in the car or going up stairs. I did not feel it at ALL during the marathon (might have been because everything else hurt so much). And I really didn't notice it the few days after the race (again, probably overshadowed by the back and quad pain). Anyway, I took two weeks totally off of running. During that time, I could feel it...especially at Disney World where we did a lot of standing/walking.
Last week, it got worse. After all that rest, it got worse. All along, I've kind of thought this was not tendonitis. People--I've had a lot of tendonitis. It is worse in the morning (this is best in the morning), doesn't hurt at rest (this is worst at rest), and might hurt at the beginning of a run, but then fades (if it bothers me running, it's always later in the run). Also, it radiates into my quad and knee. Not typical of tendonitis. So I decided to go to a sports medicine doctor--a new one. I had been seeing Dr. Weidenbener, but he seemed content to just let this go, and also didn't believe me about my piriformis syndrome (and that's what it was!), so I'm going to a new sports medicine doctor--Dr. LaGrange. I LOVE him. He's a fairly new doctor, but I think that works in my favor. Sports medicine is cutting edge, and he knows all about the new stuff/changes. He also seems to have a lot of passion for athletes.
So, I went to see him on Monday and explained to him the whole hip issue. I also told him that Dr. W had had a bone scan done to ensure that I didn't have a stress fracture, but that that was totally normal. "No, it wasn't totally normal," said Dr. LaGrange as he pulled up a copy of the report. He told me that, while there was no stress fracture, I had increased uptake of the contrast dye in my pubic bones (bottom of hips). This indicates inflammation (i.e. the bone is trying to heal). Even though I don't have pain in THAT part of my hip, it's a piece of the puzzle.
So he did a very extensive exam of my hip, and asked me what hurt and what didn't. I recognized that he was doing the "impingement test." He told me to sit up, grabbed a model of the hip joint, and said "It's one of three things, and I am leaning toward one of them." He explained that he thinks I may have something called Femoral Acetabular Impingement Syndrome (why do I always have SYNDROMES?). The hip joint is a ball and socket. FAI occurs when the ball portion pinches the labrum which is located in the socket. It's not a serious injury--but it hurts. It also commonly causes radiation down the thigh and to the knee.
He said option two was a sports hernia. That one surprised me. I know what they are. He explained that they cause groin pain. However, he said, they don't usually go into the knee, and they are most commonly associated with abdominal pain (of which, at this point, I actually have none). The final option, he said, would be iliopsoas bursitis/tendonitis. But he doesn't think that's the case given that it's been going on so long and that it radiates down my thigh and into my knee. So he was still voting for FAI.
FAI can only be diagnosed by a test called an MR Arthrogram--like an MRI but with dye injected into the joint. A key part of the test is that they numb the joint before they give the contrast. If this gets rid of the pain, there's a pretty good bet that it's coming from the joint. He told me that the test is kind of painful, so that we could start by doing a steroid injection into the hip joint. If it worked, great. If it wore off or didn't work, then we would do the MRA.
However, I wanted the MRA now. Why? Deductible. It's been met for us for this year. If I get the steroid injection, it works for six weeks, then wears off, I'm going to have to get the MRA anyway. At that point, it'll be 2012, and we'll have to shell over the $2500 for the test. No, thank you. He understood, and agrees we should go ahead with the MRA. It happens next Tuesday.
Here's the good news--I can still run. He's not at all concerned that continuing to run will cause any damaged. It's a structural (pinching) problem, and running won't make it worse. That's awesome. The bad news--most people require a surgery (though it's minimally invasive) to fix this problem for good. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it.
Good luck to all my friends racing this weekend!
It's all good apart from that last bit. So, if you remember, I developed some hip pain last May. Like, a LONG time ago. When I say hip pain, I mean more like groin pain. But I know it's coming from my hip. Anyway, it was diagnosed as a hip flexor strain with resulting tendonitis. I rested it, and had a lot of Graston done by the fabulous Penny. I also strengthened my glutes. It seemed to help, but the pain would only go away for a short time, then come back.
During taper for Chicago, it got really bad. It's not that it was that bad while running, but it ached ALL THE TIME, especially in the car or going up stairs. I did not feel it at ALL during the marathon (might have been because everything else hurt so much). And I really didn't notice it the few days after the race (again, probably overshadowed by the back and quad pain). Anyway, I took two weeks totally off of running. During that time, I could feel it...especially at Disney World where we did a lot of standing/walking.
Last week, it got worse. After all that rest, it got worse. All along, I've kind of thought this was not tendonitis. People--I've had a lot of tendonitis. It is worse in the morning (this is best in the morning), doesn't hurt at rest (this is worst at rest), and might hurt at the beginning of a run, but then fades (if it bothers me running, it's always later in the run). Also, it radiates into my quad and knee. Not typical of tendonitis. So I decided to go to a sports medicine doctor--a new one. I had been seeing Dr. Weidenbener, but he seemed content to just let this go, and also didn't believe me about my piriformis syndrome (and that's what it was!), so I'm going to a new sports medicine doctor--Dr. LaGrange. I LOVE him. He's a fairly new doctor, but I think that works in my favor. Sports medicine is cutting edge, and he knows all about the new stuff/changes. He also seems to have a lot of passion for athletes.
So, I went to see him on Monday and explained to him the whole hip issue. I also told him that Dr. W had had a bone scan done to ensure that I didn't have a stress fracture, but that that was totally normal. "No, it wasn't totally normal," said Dr. LaGrange as he pulled up a copy of the report. He told me that, while there was no stress fracture, I had increased uptake of the contrast dye in my pubic bones (bottom of hips). This indicates inflammation (i.e. the bone is trying to heal). Even though I don't have pain in THAT part of my hip, it's a piece of the puzzle.
So he did a very extensive exam of my hip, and asked me what hurt and what didn't. I recognized that he was doing the "impingement test." He told me to sit up, grabbed a model of the hip joint, and said "It's one of three things, and I am leaning toward one of them." He explained that he thinks I may have something called Femoral Acetabular Impingement Syndrome (why do I always have SYNDROMES?). The hip joint is a ball and socket. FAI occurs when the ball portion pinches the labrum which is located in the socket. It's not a serious injury--but it hurts. It also commonly causes radiation down the thigh and to the knee.
He said option two was a sports hernia. That one surprised me. I know what they are. He explained that they cause groin pain. However, he said, they don't usually go into the knee, and they are most commonly associated with abdominal pain (of which, at this point, I actually have none). The final option, he said, would be iliopsoas bursitis/tendonitis. But he doesn't think that's the case given that it's been going on so long and that it radiates down my thigh and into my knee. So he was still voting for FAI.
FAI can only be diagnosed by a test called an MR Arthrogram--like an MRI but with dye injected into the joint. A key part of the test is that they numb the joint before they give the contrast. If this gets rid of the pain, there's a pretty good bet that it's coming from the joint. He told me that the test is kind of painful, so that we could start by doing a steroid injection into the hip joint. If it worked, great. If it wore off or didn't work, then we would do the MRA.
However, I wanted the MRA now. Why? Deductible. It's been met for us for this year. If I get the steroid injection, it works for six weeks, then wears off, I'm going to have to get the MRA anyway. At that point, it'll be 2012, and we'll have to shell over the $2500 for the test. No, thank you. He understood, and agrees we should go ahead with the MRA. It happens next Tuesday.
Here's the good news--I can still run. He's not at all concerned that continuing to run will cause any damaged. It's a structural (pinching) problem, and running won't make it worse. That's awesome. The bad news--most people require a surgery (though it's minimally invasive) to fix this problem for good. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it.
Good luck to all my friends racing this weekend!
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