PTT: the Lemon of the Running World

Sometimes, in spite of all of the wonderful and amazing good in your life, it’s far too easy to get down about things. Anyone who knows me well can—and I am sure will loudly—attest to the fact that patience isn’t a gift that I have been granted. And it is not so much that I am a completely out of control, exacting, demanding, impatience monster (I don’t think). It is more that I am just really bad at allowing things sufficient time to develop…or, in this case, heal.

I had a fantastic 11 mile run last weekend. My pace was great, I felt strong and energetic, and other than some general soreness in my right knee and hip, I was in pretty good physical shape after my all-time longest run ever. The sun was shining, the air was cool but not frigid, and my lovely wife joined me for the last 1.5 miles to cheer me on. It was a pretty great long run. I ate and showered and ate some more feeling pretty good about my half marathon in three weeks.

          

Before the Run

After the Run

The Stats

 

An hour or two later I came down the stairs and felt a sharp twinge in the back of my right ankle. Huh—that’s weird, I thought. It didn’t really hurt, exactly. And it didn’t pulse or ache or feel terribly bad…just weird, really. And a little ouchy. The twinge was still there Monday morning. Grrr, that’s annoying, but at least it’s my rest day, I thought. The twinge was still there Tuesday morning. Shit!, I repeated over and again in my head. I probably shouldn’t run today, either. Also, I decided to call the orthopedist and get an appointment—which luckily was scheduled for Wednesday morning—I am not getting any younger so it’s probably a good idea to ingratiate myself to a good sports doc.

By then I was getting the terrible feeling that I might have strained my Achilles: a notoriously techy little tendon. I went to see the doc and she said, “Nope, not your Achilles…”

AWESOME!, I though.
“It’s your posterior tibial tendon.”

Considerably less awesome.

“It’s the tendon next to your Achilles and you have strained it.”

Tendonitis is bad news for a runner. It can be really painful and really difficult to get rid of.

In the doc’s opinion she thinks the posterior tibial tendon is the better one to mess up, but really we are talking a matter of small degree here.

            Because my pain is mild and we are pretty sure the tendonitis is as a result of doing my long run in a new pair of shoes that hadn’t been properly broken in—rather than some kind of mechanical flaw in my gate—the doc told me I could probably do some very gentle, easy running and that I should be icing and taking ibruprophen. I can also do some stretching and strength training to help the issue.

The big problem is that it is very easy to take mild tendonitis and turn it into a 6 month to yearlong battle with severe tendonitis. Herein lies my impatience. My half marathon is now, by my count, 16 days away. I am torn between trying to stay fit and trying not to completely blow 6 months of serious running training. Do I run and risk inflaming the tendon or do I skip running and risk killing my fitness level? I have tried to split the difference by doing some low impact versions of HIIT exercises—pushups, triceps dips, no jump burpees, squats, etc.—and low impact versions of cardio—elliptical, rower, bike, etc.—but the weather is gorgeous and the race is looming and it’s hard not to completely freak out.

All those demons in my head keep screaming:

Without running you will gain all of that weight back.

If you can’t run the race this work will be a waste.

You will never run again.

You will suffer months and months of pain and soreness in your leg and never be right again. Remember the plantar fasciitis. How much it hurt? How it took years to go away?

You are letting down your running buddy.

Failure.

Loser.

Pathetic.

            Before I knew it I was in a total tail-spin. I was freaking out.

            I tried hard to stay calm, and I really tried to remember that I could still work out. I could still stay fit. And ultimately, my goal was to be healthy, not to be a competitive long distance runner. I decided to take a full week off from running and see where I ended up. I took a few great bike rides and focused more on weight training.

I don't think I could be dorkier.

Good ride.

            Because things were feeling pretty good I decided I could try running again. Two weeks from the half, if I could get a few good runs in and do my 10k on the weekend I might be able to do the big race. I went out on Tuesday and did an easy mile: no problem. I went out on Wednesday and did 3 miles with my running buddy: still okay, but pretty tight. At this point ideas of running my 10k and being fit for the half started to creep back in—maybe I could do this!

            That brings us to this morning. I went out to try 4 miles. If I was going to run the 10k on Saturday morning, I figured I better get in at least 4 today.

Me, before the run this morning.

            But I couldn’t. I knew it about 1.5 miles in, but I kept at it, hoping the tightness would ease. By the time I was headed back home at the 2.5 mile mark I knew I was in trouble. Just before 3 miles I couldn’t go on anymore. I slowed to a walk and the pain eased. After a few hundred feet of walking, I shifted back to a jog again. Nope. Nope. Nope.

            This has been a really hard decision to reach, but I need to take care of my body and take some time off from running. I am cancelling my 10k and my half marathon. It sucks. I don’t cry very often, but I have been weepy all day. It feels like giving up. It has a whiff of failure. You set a big goal and just can’t achieve it…it feels unacceptable.

            But once again I can catch a glimpse of the thing I have been trying to nail down about running…it has become more than just a way to be fit. It is instructive. It is hard and unfair and exhilarating and boring and thrilling and empowering and crushing all at once. I am starting to realize that more important than the weight loss and the physical fitness, running has given me just a tiny little bit of wisdom and maturity.

The hours of quiet introspection, the running trance, the time outside in the weather—both good and bad—have challenged me as much mentally as it has physically, and that is the surprising and fantastic thing about running. As just truly shitty as it has been to realize that I am not going to be able to hit my goals in the next few weeks, a little part of me has learned that that is okay. If it is a choice between lifetime regular runner and distance racer, I am choosing the lifestyle over the one time thrill. It’s easy for me to dig deep and overcome the physical pain. It is harder for me to overcome my pride and take care of myself. But that is what I am going to do.

So it would seem that—at least for the next 2-3 weeks—I am going to be a cyclist and a weight lifter. By the time you see me next my quads will be larger than my waist and I will have no neck, but at least I will be able to maintain some level of fitness.

I shall close with the obligatory cliché: when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. 

These socks are rad. That is all.

           

Luck, Airplanes, and Fun in the Sun

            Sometimes I feel so astonishingly lucky. I have a lot of things for which I am very grateful. Most recently I have had reason to feel thankful because of a random Tuesday. On the Tuesday in question my wife and I—spurred on, I am sure, by the return of two of my coworkers from tropical vacations—decided to look at plane tickets to Puerto Rico. We had been to the island last year and were both longing for warmth and sun. To my astonishment, plane tickets were less than half the price we had paid the year before! No way! I conveyed this information to wife, who expressed similar disbelief. Well, since plane tickets are so cheap, I might as well look at rental apartments, I thought to myself. And I did. And I found multiple affordable, beachfront options. NO. FREAKIN’. WAY!!!!

            Long story short: we bought plane tickets and rented an apartment on Tuesday after work. We arrived in San Juan, PR on Saturday evening! How can I possibly describe just how excellent it is to be able to think on Tuesday, “Hey, let’s go to the tropics!” and then actually be there on Saturday? I can’t. I mean…part of it is the flexibility of our respective jobs, part of it is having the financial resources to do this—and that comes from a giant portion of dumb luck and just a soupçon of hard work and responsibility—part of it is having a partner who is open to wild ideas like jet setting to the Caribbean on a moment’s notice, and so many other little bits of fate and luck and happenstance that align.

 

            Anyway…we got to spend the better part of 4.5 days laying on the beach and exploring beautiful Old San Juan. As has been my new travel habit, I packed my sneakers, sports bra, and running gear so that I could get out and get in some miles while we were away. After all, I needed to find some way to offset all of the rum I consumed.

            I was super excited to get outside the first day. I decided that I would stick to the area immediately around our condo and on the beach. Security is pretty tight in the touristy neighborhoods—this is a fact that is comforting when you are in these neighborhoods, but also vaguely menacing when you are contemplating leaving these neighborhoods. At any rate, I was going to stay close by for my peace of mind, and especially for the wife’s. I suited up, slathered on a healthy dose of 70 SPF, and grabbed my sunglasses, phone, and water bottle. My first obstacle appeared before I had even left the property. Remember the aforementioned security? Well, you actually need a key fob to leave the gates! I had to bang on the security office’s window and have someone let me out. This really only took about 30 seconds, and I was off! I ran around the complex and down the access road to the beach. I hit the beach—I was concerned, having never run on sand before—and followed the other runners’ lead and moved down close to the surf where the sand was packed. The surface was pretty manageable, and it sure is nice having the waves crash in as you run by.

            See, I told you it was nice! That first day, I was just in awe of the beauty around me. The waves and the sand and the beautiful blue sky was amazing. The sun was blazing in the sky, and suddenly I realized I had nearly finished my bottle of water and I was only about half way through. By the end of my three miles, I was sweating profusely and feeling like I had run WAY more than a mere 5k. Because of my steady training and increase in mileage, three miles generally felt like a leisurely run—this is a fact that I am quite proud of! However, these were the hardest three miles I had run since my first 5k in October. The sun, the sand, the heat, and the insane humidity made this incredibly challenging.

            Nevertheless, I persevered. I got in three beach runs (three miles each) while we were away. Every time I was sweaty and exhausted, but also exhilarated by my experience. Running has added this amazing element to our travel that I had never expected. I got to assuage my guilt over all of the drinking I was doing, keep my fitness up, and enjoy 45 minutes of quiet reflection against a gorgeous backdrop. Truly, truly fortunate!