So I strained my Achilles, that’s what Dr. Peterson told me. To me it is simply -- "My ankle hurts" (said with a loud whine)!! I stepped on a volleyball at Volleyball camp when I was in my sophomore year in high school and my ankle has given me problems ever since. My theory, which isn't tested or medical, it's just an old injury.
I took one week off of running completely and ran 3.5 miles on Monday and 3.5 miles on Wednesday. I will be running 6 miles tomorrow if I am able to finish. It’s not the 16 mile run that my training schedule would have me doing, but I am really happy that I feel capable and looking forward to running at all.
I came up with three key points when you get injured that really helped me and saved my training – and in turn my May 6th Pittsburgh marathon.
Once your Injured, THREE KEY IDEAS TO SAVE YOUR MARATHON:
1. It’s all preventative. You will hear/read over and over and over that you need to listen to your body. The one thing I did correctly as far as my injury -- was I took care of it immediately. Excuse the pun, but I ran to my chiropractor. The earlier you treat it the better off you are. I didn't run when I was told not to, I rested and stayed off my foot. Listen to your body.
2. Listen to your Doctor and ignore your friends. I got so many well meaning friends telling me to wear orthotics, wear an ankle brace, ice, heat, massage – stand on my head, do the hooky poky. In the end I just smiled and said thank you, but I took the direction from Dr. Peterson and he is the only one out of all my friends with a medical degree hanging on the wall. Ignore your friends.
3. Ease back into running. Put the first two together and listen to your body and your doctor when starting back into running. I wanted to blast through my 3.5 miles and “take on these runs,” “get back into my training” -- but I slowed down my pace and kept to the mileage Dr. Peterson had cleared me for. He kept saying, “Listen to me,” “listen to me” and surprisingly, I did. I was able to recover at a faster pace. I had to resist when I felt like speeding up, or to continue running. I kept my pace slow and stopped running, got off the treadmill, as I hit that 3.5 mile mark.
Walking into the gym on Wednesday I really thought my marathon was over. My lower leg was sore and I have moments of pain shooting through my ankle as I walked the stairs to the locker room. I got to the treadmill, ran my .8 miles and stopped to stretch. I felt a bit defeated and wasn’t sure what to do -- my leg was not loosing up and it was still uncomfortable with pain.
I still had an inkling of that “killer instinct” left in me and one of my favorite Parachute Band songs came on my I-Shuffle as I stepped back on the treadmill to hit that “quick start” button.
The Parachute Band “Come Before”
Come before
Before you now
And I lay my burdens down
Prince of peace
Counselor
Son of the father I adore
I love you Lord
You’re all I have
You’re all I ever really want
And your face is all I seek
I started running and as I hit the treadmill, slowly – and over the next mile, the pain dispersed from my leg. It wasn't magic and immediate, and it hasn’t been pain free since Wednesday, but today (Friday) I feel much more normal than I have in two weeks and look forward to hitting Central Park tomorrow. Dr. Peterson has promised that I will be back on track as far as my training is concerned. But for tomorrow at least, I will be running six miles.
I did lay my burdens down on that treadmill, I laid my ankle pain, my finances and my single life – down. I knew leaving the gym Wednesday night that I would be okay, i would be able to run my marathon, i will be able to pay off my debt, I start dating. I just knew. With God all things are possible.
I “feel,” I “believe,” I “think” that part of the challenge is that I cannot, under any circumstances pick anyone of these three things back up. That is the lesson that injuring my leg during my marathon training has shown me: not only lay down my burdens – but keep them down.
NOW, I have no idea how to do that, BUT, I also feel like the secret of "down"-- will be revealed to me. Just like how I had to go through an ankle injury. With a few trusted freinds, listening and postive actions to follow. All of course with a smile and hair flip.
I’m hoping to have somewhat nice weather tomorrow;
I’m also hoping your well,
Let’s do this !!
Stephanie
49 and Fabulous
Friday, March 16, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
My race, my pace
In two months from today, there will be two new and incredible facts about my life, (God willing):
1. I will be 47 years old.
2. I will be somewhere in the middle of finishing my first marathon
Well, that is if I’m lucky. My life since December has been “scheduled.” I took a look at my eating and nutrition and scheduled my daily eating. “Oh, its 11am, I need to be eating fruit, oh it’s 4pm, I need my pre-work out snack.” I incorporated my training schedule and have a four day a week running program. I took a look at my sleeping patterns and am forcing myself to get to bed earlier (right up there with miracles). Everything is on a schedule.
My good friends are asking for lunches and dinners and I keep putting everyone off, (sorry Kristen, Ashley, Julie and Kate), I am saying no to Saturday invites to keep my days open (sorry Jen and Liz).
Saturday’s below to Central Park, me and my Saucony’s.
If I am not running, I am thinking about my next run and I have to say, I am not all that different from other runners that I meet and obsessively talk to about running.
I had the thought this week, what am I going to do after May 6th? What is my life going to look like if I am not training and running? I will cross and destroy that bridge when I get to it.
I am now running over 14 miles in my long runs. I am not really excited about long runs anymore -- AT ALL. Each one has been a challenge in itself for different reasons. Until this point, I haven’t experienced any of the muscle soreness that I did training for my two half marathons. I was running with some ease and that all changed once I started hitting the 13 mile mark.
This week, my feet hurt, my ankle hurts, my legs were like dead weights, I felt like I felt when I was finishing my half marathon, tired, spent, depleted, empty and sick to my stomach. After eating the third time on Saturday, I started to feel somewhat normal. Somewhat...
I whimper when I run, ask my brother Jymie, who saw me at mile 9 in Columbus, Ohio, my friend Matt who ran the last mile of my first 10 mile long run in Central Park last year or Chris who had to pull me the last three miles of 2012’s NYC half. I hit this wall and I start whimpering. I feel like I can’t take another step, but my runner’s instinct won’t let me stop until I finish. It comes out a whimper.
My friend Scott calls me a “warrior,” and I cringe every time he says it and think, “ah, no not me.” Well, last Saturday I was whimpering in my kitchen making my second meal, I was cutting spinach to put into my omelet, whimpering. I whimpered this morning making an appointment with my doctor to look at my ankle. I am not a warrior, I am not a machine and I am not fearless…
But I am also am no quitter…
Running and training has become a metaphor for my life. I compare work situations, commuting in the subways of Manhattan, people expressing their negative opinions of me (yes, this has happened three times in the last month – directly to my face), my relationships, serious life situations, it all comes back to the same theory of running. We have goals, we meet goals.
I had to do it; I had to look up the dictionary definition of warrior: One who is engaged aggressively or energetically in an activity, cause or conflict.
Of course, the definition indicates war activities, and I am not engaging in war, but I do have my own conflicts, I am warring against my negative thinking. Not letting my doubt and self pity get the best of me, this is a full on war at the present moment.
My friend Esat gave me my new direction on all my runs until May 6th:
1. Slow down to your marathon pace and run consistently at the slower pace
This idea reminds me of the conversation with my running coach Ryan during the training for my first half marathon. I was complaining about the young girls who get on the treadmill next to me and run at 7.0, 7.5 – and I’m stuck back at 6.0, sweating, pushing myself, bright red face. He pointed out that they get on run fast – then get off and leave. I am still on the treadmill running, I am still running 45 minutes later as they are leaving the gym. I need to run my race and run at my pace.
My race, my pace.
So if everything is a metaphor and my life and training are now one, although it doesn’t rhyme, it is my life, and I can approach that with whatever attitude I can muster. This means, with all the good sweet moments, the injuries, broken hearts, triumphs – it’s mine. To do with it what I will.
(This is just a side note for myself, to myself:
Dear Stephanie. I would like to remind you that although you are whimpering, and apparently it is not something you like about yourself, you are in the middle of training for a marathon and pushing your physical body to its capacity and beyond. Each time you whimper, you are in the middle of your runs, you and your Sacouny’s, out beating the pavement. Your living life…smack dab in the middle of the whimper.
Whimper away if you have to, whimper away).
So I will go to see Dr. Peterson, show him my injured ankle and I may even whimper. But since I now know the definition of a warrior, I will also tell him --
“I am aggressively and energetically engaged in my training (which I consider a cause for my life and well being) since December, and it’s gonna take alittle more that an ankle to take me out. I’m a warrior, I’ve got war tools. You know stuff…to handle war, like guts and might.”
Just like I’ve done for 46 years, ten months and four days. My race, my pace.
Keep the faith y'all,
Stephanie Caroline
1. I will be 47 years old.
2. I will be somewhere in the middle of finishing my first marathon
Well, that is if I’m lucky. My life since December has been “scheduled.” I took a look at my eating and nutrition and scheduled my daily eating. “Oh, its 11am, I need to be eating fruit, oh it’s 4pm, I need my pre-work out snack.” I incorporated my training schedule and have a four day a week running program. I took a look at my sleeping patterns and am forcing myself to get to bed earlier (right up there with miracles). Everything is on a schedule.
My good friends are asking for lunches and dinners and I keep putting everyone off, (sorry Kristen, Ashley, Julie and Kate), I am saying no to Saturday invites to keep my days open (sorry Jen and Liz).
Saturday’s below to Central Park, me and my Saucony’s.
If I am not running, I am thinking about my next run and I have to say, I am not all that different from other runners that I meet and obsessively talk to about running.
I had the thought this week, what am I going to do after May 6th? What is my life going to look like if I am not training and running? I will cross and destroy that bridge when I get to it.
I am now running over 14 miles in my long runs. I am not really excited about long runs anymore -- AT ALL. Each one has been a challenge in itself for different reasons. Until this point, I haven’t experienced any of the muscle soreness that I did training for my two half marathons. I was running with some ease and that all changed once I started hitting the 13 mile mark.
This week, my feet hurt, my ankle hurts, my legs were like dead weights, I felt like I felt when I was finishing my half marathon, tired, spent, depleted, empty and sick to my stomach. After eating the third time on Saturday, I started to feel somewhat normal. Somewhat...
I whimper when I run, ask my brother Jymie, who saw me at mile 9 in Columbus, Ohio, my friend Matt who ran the last mile of my first 10 mile long run in Central Park last year or Chris who had to pull me the last three miles of 2012’s NYC half. I hit this wall and I start whimpering. I feel like I can’t take another step, but my runner’s instinct won’t let me stop until I finish. It comes out a whimper.
My friend Scott calls me a “warrior,” and I cringe every time he says it and think, “ah, no not me.” Well, last Saturday I was whimpering in my kitchen making my second meal, I was cutting spinach to put into my omelet, whimpering. I whimpered this morning making an appointment with my doctor to look at my ankle. I am not a warrior, I am not a machine and I am not fearless…
But I am also am no quitter…
Running and training has become a metaphor for my life. I compare work situations, commuting in the subways of Manhattan, people expressing their negative opinions of me (yes, this has happened three times in the last month – directly to my face), my relationships, serious life situations, it all comes back to the same theory of running. We have goals, we meet goals.
I had to do it; I had to look up the dictionary definition of warrior: One who is engaged aggressively or energetically in an activity, cause or conflict.
Of course, the definition indicates war activities, and I am not engaging in war, but I do have my own conflicts, I am warring against my negative thinking. Not letting my doubt and self pity get the best of me, this is a full on war at the present moment.
My friend Esat gave me my new direction on all my runs until May 6th:
1. Slow down to your marathon pace and run consistently at the slower pace
This idea reminds me of the conversation with my running coach Ryan during the training for my first half marathon. I was complaining about the young girls who get on the treadmill next to me and run at 7.0, 7.5 – and I’m stuck back at 6.0, sweating, pushing myself, bright red face. He pointed out that they get on run fast – then get off and leave. I am still on the treadmill running, I am still running 45 minutes later as they are leaving the gym. I need to run my race and run at my pace.
My race, my pace.
So if everything is a metaphor and my life and training are now one, although it doesn’t rhyme, it is my life, and I can approach that with whatever attitude I can muster. This means, with all the good sweet moments, the injuries, broken hearts, triumphs – it’s mine. To do with it what I will.
(This is just a side note for myself, to myself:
Dear Stephanie. I would like to remind you that although you are whimpering, and apparently it is not something you like about yourself, you are in the middle of training for a marathon and pushing your physical body to its capacity and beyond. Each time you whimper, you are in the middle of your runs, you and your Sacouny’s, out beating the pavement. Your living life…smack dab in the middle of the whimper.
Whimper away if you have to, whimper away).
So I will go to see Dr. Peterson, show him my injured ankle and I may even whimper. But since I now know the definition of a warrior, I will also tell him --
“I am aggressively and energetically engaged in my training (which I consider a cause for my life and well being) since December, and it’s gonna take alittle more that an ankle to take me out. I’m a warrior, I’ve got war tools. You know stuff…to handle war, like guts and might.”
Just like I’ve done for 46 years, ten months and four days. My race, my pace.
Keep the faith y'all,
Stephanie Caroline
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