Unremarkable

Well, I have never been described as so unremarkable so many times in one report. Ok, maybe I have, but I didn't know it.

I just got the MRI report from Dr. Spears at Sports Performance International...I've been holding my breath. The good news is that I am unremarkable...that is, that section of my foot is. I do not have a stress fracture. Yes! Excellent, but....Oh yes, there it is, the but -- as in the conjunction, not the gluteus maximus.

I have severe edema at the base of the fifth metatarsal. Somehow this is bad. Apparently, it's a pre-stress fracture. And, somehow the punishment is the same. No running. So, I get no sympathy boot cast or something to keep my foot from messing up more, but I can't run either. Aqua-jogging, cycling, elliptical. Did I mention that it's the right foot and it hurts to drive?

I look down at the floor while Dr. Spears is talking to me. First, he's calling me Alice. Alice doesn't live here anymore. I don't want to correct him. His assistant is calling me A-Lish-A, which is not me either. Anyway, I see Peter heading our way with a very determined stride and I figure I'm in the clear -- they will get my name right now and Peter will translate what the Dr. is saying to me.

They both start explaining that it looks like I have trauma to the bone -- multiple trauma. Wait, I don't remember a trauma or a multiple of the trauma. All I said to Lorenzo Blanco was let's do 10 instead of 7. I mean, this was an easy day. I feel like they are talking to someone else.

So, I say, Do the two weeks that I have already put in toward my 6 count? Now I feel like some petty criminal who's negotiating a lighter sentence. Notice how I said 6 at the long side and they said 8. Peter shakes his head and laughs.

Dr. Spears starts talking about how this is normal for runners who are used to a certain exercise level. They need something to replace their threshold of exercise. Ok, now I feel like a junky. For someone unremarkable, I feel like I've already played a lot of roles in this movie. Now I'm in an episode of Intervention on A&E.

Troy comes over now with the very nice assistant. Sorry, I forget her name. She's lovely. Everyone is flocking to the scan. Troy looks at me like I'm 2 and I just squeezed my puppy too hard.

Peter comes back in and kind of gives me the speech. Running hard, not a life long runner, over 40, etc, etc. I look down again, the tears are coming and I'm trying so hard not to cry. I cry at this office a lot. I think they need an on site therapist. Then I could really get a lot work done on all these personalities I have and my basic unremarkableness.

I slink out of the office and dutifully make my appointments. This isn't like the hip. I could run through that pain. But, this foot just won't work right now. It's as stubborn as I am.

I want to call someone from the car, but I don't bother. I don't think anyone will understand how I feel. Running grounds me. I work things out in my head when I run. I release my anger, my stress. I push myself. I'm alone, but I'm with people all at the same time. I had some ideas about this Spring. I just need a minute to accept it. After 2 weeks, my foot really doesn't feel any better at all.

When I get home, I pull out the report and read it. This is where I learn how normal and unremarkable I am. For a second, I start to think they are all wrong and I can lace up and head out tomorrow. Then I stand up and try to walk to the stairs, that I have to climb up and my foot is like a little pink ham in a shoe. I hate my foot!

Running Drought

Well, the post have been few since the runs have been few. I managed to get hurt, again. Yes, again. On a very easy 10 mile run, suddenly my foot locked up after the Longhorn Dam and never really rotated again. I tried and tried to shake it off, but ended up just toughing it out.

Alas, I have worn my lightweight shoes on too many runs. And, since I only run on the right hand side anyway, my right foot decided to, well, just start to cave in.

I headed for Sports Performance and have seen Troy twice already. He cleared me a silly 3 mile run and I couldn't even do that. The adjustment he made to my foot came completely undone on a business trip, so, I was back to square one.

I can't believe how much running really means to me. Except that everytime I can't do it, I just about go crazy. I can't sleep and my entire system is off kilter.

I'm heading out tomorrow to give it a go...I have to try and see if I can hold my own.

There are so many races coming up and I was just starting the speed work outs...it's so frustrating!

Austin Marathon: Spectator and Crew

If you asked me why I finally decided to do a marathon, I couldn't tell you. I didn't have that burning desire to do one; nor have I wanted to repeat the process. As you may have read in earlier posts, I felt like, well, really S&(*&Y at the end. It was a terrible feeling. And I wasn't too keen ot repeat it.

So, the Austin Marathon comes around and I told my friend I would help her along. Finally, we agreed that I would meet her at mile 17. I've done this many times over the years -- meeting folks in different places and running a bit.

Now that I've run one myself, I came prepared. I was so prepared, that I woke up like it was a marathon day for me. Seriously, 4 AM, I could not get back to sleep. I headed to the course super early and went to the spot -- way to early. I back tracked to mile 11 to see Gilbert who, by the way, decided 8 weeks ago to run it. Ok, I guess you have to be elite to do that.

I sat a mile 11 forever, shivering. I wish I'd been running instead. The elite truck comes up and here come the guys...Gilbert is 5th at this point, smiling away looking like he's having the time of his life. I've never really watched him in a race, so, for a moment, I'm stunned. It looks so easy and elegant when he runs. I forget to tell him what I have, so I hop in my car and head to mile 15 and wait. I start to run toward him and yell...I have Gu, I have sodium, water, tissues. No Red, I don't need anything, I'm fine. Off he goes again. I stare. The guy who is pacing him asks me for a Gu and I hesitate, but toss it.

I head to mile 17 and wait for all the folks I know. I cheer, I jump up and down, I give out water with carbo pro to BH. I scream and scream for people I know and don't know. I start to lose my voice. Then, I start to worry, so I head in the opposite direction of the race and find my friend. And, off we go.

It's getting hot and we're trying to move along. I try to be encouraging, but not a pain. My friend is hurting, I can hear her. I give her water, soak a washcloth for her and we keep pushing.

We see Gazelles everywhere, which is nice. I encourage her on the hills -- there are so many, and she digs in so hard. I tell her not to quit, not to walk, keep moving. There are so many hills at the end, it's merciless. Push, I tell, it's not that bad, we're almost done. Focus...I don't know if I'm helping or hurting.

Here comes the shoot, just 1ooo meters and I have to head out. Ok, you are on your own, you have this, give it some juice. You can do it. I run along side the fences, screaming all the way, just 800, just 400, just 50 meters, push, push, you can do it. She crosses the finish and I'm screaming...you are awesome, you did it! It was tough, no PR, no BQ. But somewhere along the way, I got pumped for her in a way that I never got pumped for myself. My heart was pounding when she hit the shoot. I was so happy and proud that she hung in for so long when it was so hard.

I felt better that day than I did when I crossed the finish line in San Antonio myself. We walked to RunTex and talked about doing Ragnar again. We talked about a flater course. We talked about Boston. We talked about pizza. We saw Gilbert walking to RunTex with his family, the little one on his shoulders, just hanging out.

On to the next challenge.

Running the wrong way

To say that the last few weeks have been challenging is an understatement. And, the fact that I've had to squeeze in workouts and figure out how to run makes it worse. I sound whiny, but I guess I was spoiled for so long. I had a routine, a sitter and it worked. Now, I'm winging it everyday and, frankly, I hate it.

I used to hate running. Honestly, I am not an athlete. I'm a dork. I'm the person no one wanted on their team. I Irish Danced before "Lord of the Dance" came around and everyone made fun of me, so I quit. I started running at 3o when I decided to do triathlons. Now, I'm 43. Where did the time go?

I have goals this year, but don't know if I'll accomplish them. I'll try. I just want to get Boston in 2010. MW posted a great "info sheet" on Boston and I was equally scared and excited. I know I have a lot of training ahead of me. And, to be honest, my whole right side still bothers me .... A LOT.

At the end of my run today, I didn't intend to do so, but ran the opposite direction of some Gazelles just starting. By that point, I was in pain and frustrated. I said hi and smiled a lot. My right leg aches from my hip, down my hamstring to my calf. When I stop, finally, I am hobbled, just like my San Antonio finish and I go to the annex to stretch.

I want to fix it and fast. I need a good run and soon.

Shoe Fly Don't Bother Me: Tales from 3M

Last year, I trained long and hard for the 3M. I ran the course 4 times and practiced picking up the pace. This year, I was not prepared. The time between the San Antonio Marathon and 3M was short relative to my ability to get some speed work in.

So, the week before, my daughter got the stomach bug and I got cedar fever. I get sick every year the week before 3M, so it's really part of the deal. But, I was really wiped out from, well, cleaning everything in my house and not sleeping that much.

I showed up on race day with no plan. I rode with Lorenzo and friends and he reported that he was not racing. DD wanted to do a good training run as she's training for another marathon. I hit the Afrin for the nasal passages and hoped for the best.

I saw Lucy at the start (see Jingle Bell entry) and squeezed in by some Gazelles. They were all going to run fast. I saw DV as he made his way to the front. I hugged DD and off we go. I started out fairly well and tried to pull the pace down. At about mile 4, I wanted to quit. But, I wouldn't give up. I heard Lorenzo talking to DD behind me. What the heck, where'd he come from? He came up on me and we ran for a bit, then he took off and I just couldn't catch him....again.

I decided that it had to be my own race and I just hunkered down for the lonely ride. I saw MWoo and he cheered and encouraged me. He told me about the head wind coming up. When I turned onto North Loop, I was ready, not too far to go Red. I was playing chicken with this other gal. I'd pass her, she'd pass me...back and forth.

Suddenly, I feel something around my left foot. I look down. My shoe is untied. No, really, it is. I couldn't believe it. I lace them 3 or 4 times. How did that happen? I had to stop and tie it. My hands were cold, it was hard to bend. I kept trying and trying to tie it and nothing would happen. The clock is ticking, people running by...one after the other. I shout some curses and get it done.

Off I go. I'm pissed now. I have so much to make up. I concentrate and hit the secret weapon. I come up to and pass some folks that were near me before. Ok, I'm good (this was from 7:21 to a 7:00 during that time). Then I see some Gazelles who I know are fast and I'm feeling a bit better. One is near, but she goes by. Darn it! On Duval, a guy next to me tells me, I don't have much to give. Yes, you do, I tell him. You are breathing too shallow. Try to take a deep breath and relax some, lean forward a little. He does this and I hear him taking big deep breaths. We pass by two Gazelle-spectators with the cow bell and they give me a huge cheer. You know them the guy says. Yes, they are my friends from the Gazelles. He breaths again and takes off.

I start to dig, not looking at my watch. I just have a little bit to go. Hold on, I tell myself. There's Gilbert -- come on Red, dig in. He shouts a time at me. Ok, I think, almost there. You didn't train really and it's almost over, just dig in. And so, I do. I try to give more and head for the finish.

Lorenzo meets me and asks me where the heck I've been. My shoe came untied, I tell him. I lost some time. Didn't you triple knot them. I did, I don't know what happened.

Anyway, I'm happy, I did it, I was alone. I had no cheering section and I tried to help someone along the way. I didn't get a personal record, but I hit the top 10 in my age group. That was my goal all along. Next year, steel laces.

Nooner

Well, now that I have your attention. Today, I had a nooner. No, not the kind you are thinking of...I went to the trail and ran, at noon...exactly.

The trail is different at noon. There are lots of people, dogs, and, um, smokers, iPhoners. It's not like the morning (like 5 or 5:30) when it's mostly Gazelles, people with routines, and, let's nto forget, the stick lady.

But, I had to get my run in as my husband is on a boondoggle ... I mean ski trip in Tahoe and there will be no running on Sat. In fact, that was my first reaction, but what about my long run? (Like a child, I might add).

And, I must say, it's not fun at noon. Not running anyway. I slogged it. My legs hurt; it was hot and I was in a time crunch. 9 became 7, 7 became 5...it all went down hill. I imagined that my face was turning as red as my hair and that my stride looked completely Frankensteinish.

I longed for a Gazelle to run me down, run in front of me, behind me, anywhere. Maybe someone I knew was doing a recovery at noon or a double.

I tried to pass people, I got slower. I quit so easily. Couldn't Gilbert or Bernard just magically appear?

I am a morning runner. I am not a good lone runner.

The 3 M looms large. My expectations dwindle quickly. In fact today, they are up in smoke.

Garcon, more wine please! oh, and a cigarette!

Are we in Jersey?

Double D, Lorenzo and I all ran today. It was freakin' freezin'. I mean Jersey freezin'. And, I thought to myself. For #$%# sake, I would NOT be a runner if I still lived on the East Coast. My hair would be big, I'd have gold around my neck, maybe a few more diamonds (forget 'bout it) and I WOULD BE BIG. Anyway, I am here, in Texas, my hair is not big and I headed out today in the cold, wet, rain.

Double D and I got to business for a while, but I screwed it up by talking...way too much. Ok, I don't know what the heck happened, but I was like blah...blah...blah...Poor Double D. We were ahead for a bit, but slowly but surely, I heard Lorenzo's stride behind us (he's tapering) and I knew we were running way to slow if he was catching us on taper-speed and we were supposed to be at 1/2 marathon speed. UGH.

Not to mention the fact that those firecracker runners come from no where. And this is both disarming and disillusioning at the same time. I mean, at first, it was hey, how ya doin'? Then suddenly they appear from hear and there; at points where you don't expect them on the trail. And, I have no idea where they came from. Anyway, at one point, those firecrackers were just hanging out on the trail. I don't know what was going on, but they suddenly stopped fakin' me out and they were just standing there motionless. I asked them what was wrong. They mumbled some firecracker/gazelle language (maybe it's at top speed too and only fast people can understand them) and I just carried on like I knew what was happening.

I tried to catch LB then (story of my running life) and every time I got close, he sped up. Oye. Anyway, we get to the end and Double D says, we're short 3 tenths. Crap. Now that my Garmin is working, I can't short it. I'm at 10.72. Here comes a splinter group of the firecrackers again and I start to trot. "I'm short 3 10th's" I shout. As if to say, I am trotting in slow motion next to you super fast Gazelle trot which to me is a run because I just need to clock the miles and I'd rather not exert myself too hard.

But, I know they don't believe me.