It's a Half!

13.1 miles, 9/24/11, 2:09:04, 9:51/mi. (Addendum: I JUST realized, after posting this, that my time and pace are likely better than what is indicated. My Garmin said I ran 13.25 in about the same time as the race people said I finished 13.1. I just now realized the discrepancy in distances may be attributable to the fact that I ran around this castle / fort on the course one too many times. AND, to add insult to injury, if that's the case, I don't even have a real record of my actual time for 13.25 because I bawled like a baby, hugged David, and stretched for about 6 years before I even remembered to STOP the timer on my watch. BOOooooooo.)

The bad news:

I have a whole multitude of issues going on with my legs, hip and back.

I dropped my iPod in the toilet literally seconds before I had to take off and had NO music for the entire race.

I have no real record of my actual time and pace.

The good news:

I am feeling so much better! I have followed every doctor's order about heat, ice, stretching, and anti-inflammatories exactly. And after not really running for nearly three weeks, the most pain I feel right now, in this very moment, is the good kind of sore, the kind that lets you know your muscles have been awakened after a long slumber. And I felt fantastic for the duration of my run, too, which is really great, given that I didn't know how I would respond to the "don't run through pain" mandate if I did, in fact, feel pain. I was, truthfully, scared, not of the prospect of pain, but of my likely unwillingness to submit to it or of the defeat I would feel if I had to. I am glad I wasn't put to the test. 

The course itself was absolutely breathtaking. And there were all sorts of adorable and gracious people throughout clapping and shouting all sorts of wonderful affirmations. One woman yelled, "I just admire you all so much." A precious, elderly gentleman shouted to me personally, "Way to go, 162! Looking good!" Complete strangers. Just awesome. If not for my iPod falling in a toilet, I may have never heard their beautiful voices. 

My iPod did, in fact, survive.

My time and pace are pretty impressive, all things considered, even though I have no idea what they are.

A few pics to document the journey:

Race chips. David ran the 5K (after working until 3AM and having slept for only 3 hours) because he is a good husband. He also ran a 5K on Fathers Day after not having run since he was a kid. I don't recall his time for that race, but he completed this one in 29 minutes. Unreal.

I don't know how many races are in my future, but I will never  wear a different racing shirt.  My whole life as a runner began with Bubba and a 6 mile "grief run." I am as likely to forget that as I am to forget him.   

Pre-race. Happy?

Nope. Scared bleep-less.

2-ish hours later: the finish line!

HAPPY for sure. Can you tell by my stride? I was already crying tears of joy.

Post-race. That's a beer in my right hand.

Beer again.

The couple who runs together...

I thought I would feel unfulfilled having completed a half marathon with no certain prospects for a full, especially given that the full was my objective all along. The very word half does rub me the wrong way, but not for the reason I thought it would--not because I feel like there is more to be done, but because I feel like there is nothing more for me to do. I don't mean that in a complacent way. I mean merely that I have done all that I can do, and I don't think it's possible for me to feel any more "full" of pride, satisfaction, and accomplishment. This must be what everyone refers to as "runners' high." Euphoria beyond words...

Dear Running:

As I was driving to work in the early hours of the morning, Lady Gaga's "You and I" came on the radio, and I thought of you.

The song, for one, is such a good running song. In fact, I put it on my iPod right before my failed 8, our last date together, the abrupt ending of which left me in tears. And, this morning, it happened to come on when the sun was rising, when you and I would have been on our mile 5-ish--if we were still together, of course.

Before I knew it, I was wiping a tear from my eye and simultaneously chuckling aloud and shaking my head in nostalgic amusement. And that's when I knew it for certain:

We're not over.

You haven't always treated me well.  I'd even say you've hurt me pretty badly. I got caught up in the "chase," pursued you too earnestly, and you dumped me. Hard.


I don't know that I'd give "anything again to be your baby doll," but I know there is still "something" between us, something "about" us, and I think it's worth investigating. I really do.


I'll be seeing you soon. Count on it. 


Love,
Danielle

Somewhere between "Big" and "Home"

I don't really know where that is yet; but, more than likely, I will have to find that medium. (Whoever said mediums were "happy"???)

Doctor's report and prognosis:

I still have no idea what is happening with my hip (there was reference to two joints and possible eventual stress fractures), but I start physical therapy Tuesday for that issue--whatever it is.

Regarding my shins, the doctor explained a radiologist "may very well read stress fractures," but she didn't order an MRI because she doesn't "need an MRI to tell [her] what to do"--and that's to insist that I rest. And rest means do nothing. If I weren't training for a marathon, she would have told me to rest indefinitely, and that may be the eventual mandate anyway. Right now, it could be "the difference of one run." Because I am crazy (that's my word; she was nicer), she told me "technically," I could count from Friday, the day of the failed 8 (or .5), and not from yesterday--if I "wanted to justify that way" and rest for fewer days.   So...this weekend I can start with the recumbent bike. If that doesn't hurt, I can progress to the elliptical. If that doesn't hurt, I can do "light jogging." And NO pain allowed. Translation: Sayonara, Marathon. I just don't see how I could start jogging and progress to 26.2 by the end of October. In addition to the long runs, there are multiple "short" runs (e.g. 5-10 miles) weekly.

I just realized I left off with 16. I had only TWO long runs left before the marathon: an 18 and a 20. Damn.


I do get it. I did way too much, way too fast. As the doctor explained it to me, there are lifelong runners who train for 6 months-1 year to run a marathon. I have never been a runner and woke up one day and decided to run a marathon. I committed to an 18 week training program, and I refused to forego bootcamp and gym days to boot. As I said to her yesterday, "This is my fault. I own it."

I have had my tantrums and tears and meltdowns, and today I got choked up when a song that I listen to repeatedly on my runs came on the car radio. (It reminded me of being a teenager, and feeling all nostalgic and sappy, listening to Dave Matthews or Sarah McLachlan.) But now I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. Again, it's my fault, and self-pity is unattractive. So, the potential pluses:

1.  If I am being honest, as I said to one of my favorite friends and true champions of athleticism, I don't like running like this. The kind of running I have been doing for quite some time is the bad kind of everything: pain, fatigue, challenge, chore, etc. I am actually looking forward to healing, to being pain-free, and to loving exercise again.

2.  There is the half at the end of this month. It is probably out of my reach at this point. But there is always a possibility. Even if I lose some conditioning by then, if I miraculously feel pain-free, I really believe I have the mental fortitude and drive to pull it off. (Of course mental fortitude wouldn't carry me through 13 miles if I hadn't already completed months of long distance training.) And there is still October if miracles really do happen, and there is always the spring season, too.

3.  I am pretty confident now that I am one tough cookie. I am proud that I set out to achieve this goal of gargantuan proportions, and I fought tooth and nail to make it happen. I can look myself in the mirror and say that I never once slacked or cheated, that I never once failed to do my very best. That's all anyone can really do. And, in the end, I made it pretty far. 16 miles for a single run and an average of 20-30 miles of running per week are nothing to sneeze at.

4.  My bootcamp class just ended. I wasn't planning to register for the next session because my body could just no longer take that kind of hit while running that kind of distance. But if I am no longer running that kind of distance, maybe--maybe--I can resume bootcamp in three weeks when the next session starts. I love bootcamp, more than I have ever loved any fitness-related activity, including running.

5.  Now that I am a mom, I often think about how my daughter will one day judge my actions; in fact, the thought of her as a teenager thinking it was cool that her mom ran a marathon a year after she was born is what sustained me on many painful runs. Now, I hope that she will respect my effort more than she will judge my ultimate performance; that she will see this experience as a lesson about sometimes needing to appreciate life's journeys more than the destinations; and that she will admire my genuine desire to be a healthy, strong, fit woman and role model to her. At a recent bootcamp class when we were doing Spidermans, my instructor jokingly said to the class, comprised of all women, "Remember when you were a little girl and you used to dream of Spidermans..." A bunch of women joked, "Barbie didn't do this!" or "This was not what I dreamed about Spiderman." And my first thought was, "I hope my daughter dreams of doing exactly this one day."

So, in the end, maybe a medium can be happy. I may need a GPS to find it, but I am willing to try.

Of Mastiff and Marathon

I am having kind of a hard time lately. I miss Huan so much, more than I have in a long time. I don't know what else to say about that. He was extraordinary. I will never have another dog like him. I will never know another soul as gentle and gracious and humble and sweet and good and decent as he. Repeat.

I have been training for a marathon, for months actually. There. I said it. Only a few people, until now, have known that. I haven't even registered for it, but the registration screen has been minimized on my laptop for what feels like forever. I have been afraid of jinxing it, I guess, but it's too late for that.

Current status: my longest run to date is 16 miles. I have been running 3-4 times a week, all according to the guidelines of a free online training program. There is always one really long run (e.g. 15 miles), 1-2 shorter runs (e.g. 3-5 miles), and one long-ish run (e.g. 8-10 miles). My times have been pretty impressive for a rookie (9:30-40ish on long runs), though that may be because I am a total idiot and haven't stopped to rest or hydrate ever. (No, I am not kidding.) I have also maintained my bootcamp days, but had to drop my leg day at the gym. I have, until now, maintained my upper body weight training regimen. And now I am injured.

Injured?

For weeks, my shins have been very painful to the touch, and it has gotten increasingly more painful to run on them. I have also been suffering through hip pain that is now pretty unbearable. There have been a couple of times when my leg has gone numb, and I haven't been able to support my weight while running. This past Friday, I set out to do an 8 miler, and I didn't make it 1/2 mile before I had to stop, tears streaming down my face, and limp home. I remember thinking, "I don't even know how to distinguish anymore. What will I tell the doctor? Does the pain radiate up my legs or down them?"

I have an appointment with a sports medicine doctor tomorrow. I have an appointment with a podiatrist on Friday. I am icing and stretching and taking anti-inflammatories. And resting. For the first time EVER, I missed a run, a 12 miler yesterday. I have no idea how much more I will have to miss. I am scheduled for a half marathon at the end of the month, which is just part of my training for the full in October. I don't know that I will be able to do either now. And I can't even stomach the thought of that. I have given this everything I have to give. I have set my alarm at 4AM on long run days so I can be home in time to get the baby when she wakes and so Hubby can leave for work. I have run in South Carolina, while on vacation, down cobblestone streets in the midst of Hurricane Irene storms. I even set my alarm at God knows what time to fit in a 10 miler before our flight took off for South Carolina. And, to reiterate, it has really, really hurt most days, even to run one mile.

I began running a week after Huan died, and I haven't stopped since. I always wanted to run, to be a runner,  but never really had the kind of motivation that the loss of Huan inspired. (I often call it "grief running.") And I did  toy with the idea of training for just a half, but I tend to operate in extremes. I go big, or I go home. I go Mastiff. I go marathon. And I have to believe that, even if I can't physically cross the finish line, everything that has carried me to this moment in my training--the struggle, the love, the grief, the tenacity, even the dedication to get out of bed at 4AM for months on end--that's all big stuff--bigger, perhaps, than even 26.2 miles.

I really hope I can believe that.