Friday, May 25, 2012

Post Ogden Marathon Chatter

Training Run Start/Stop marker
Some periods in life are not to be forgotten.  This period, my "oh lookie, i'm a marathoner!" period, I don't want to forget.

So, this post is purely for MY memory.

Training:
Official (Ogden) Marathon training started in January with a base of 4 miles.  Using Hal Higdon's training plans I ran Mon, Tues, Wed, Saturday, & x-trained on Thursday's for 20 weeks.  It was hard.  It was long.  It was cold (hello winter mornings!). It was sweaty.  Real sweaty.  Like, got a rash (remember the rash?!) sweaty.  Made 5-a.m. gym runner buddies. Mind and body were in a constant street fight.

Dave was my "why this" and "why that" resource and my #1 supporter.  HE was incredible.

Injury:
Seriously.  I took the precautions. No more than a 10% increase a week. Good shoes. Lots of water. Stretching. Sleep plenty (okay, I didn't do so well with this one). Then at week 15, a hurt knee. I ran through the pain for a long time thinking it would "heal itself." No such luck.

Hurt + Slipping at Ikea (the final blow?) = Extreme pain in every step and NO ability to run even 5 feet.

Physical Therapist advice:
Most likely a small meniscus tear.  Only option is surgery. "You will NOT be doing a marathon any time soon. Have you thought about selling your entry?"

My solution:
Prayer.  Prayer, prayer, prayer! Aspercreme, Ibuprofen, and a big bit of elliptical too.

Running Goodies
Ogden Race:
Having taken several weeks off, the excruciating pain in my knee calmed down to a "it hurts to run" feeling. My pace had dropped from a 10 minute mile to a hurting 11:30 minute pace. That was a depressing drop.

Before the race I was able to get 4 small runs in (and one 12 miler). My right leg over compensated (for the hurting left one) on each of these runs and made my right leg ache and my shin burn.  Now both legs were left needy and not offering a quick post-run recovery.

But I showed up.  No way in heck was I going to not even try.  That would have been ridiculous! So I stood by my sis-in-law at the start line, put my headphones in at the 30-seconds to race time announcement and the world went quiet.

I was alone. 26.2 miles was all that stood between me and the marathoner status I was striving for.

And then I ran. I felt a small nudge in my knee, but it was not enough to stop me. Plus, if I stopped, I would get trampled as I was one of the slower runners starting up in the front with the fast runners (had to get a head start!).

So I kept running. And running, and running.

People were stopping to stretch this and that. To re-tie a shoe, change music, and adjust their straps.

But I kept on running.

Mile 1 was done.

Then mile 2, .. . 3, .. 6, ... 7

At this point I realized that I had no pain. N.O.N.E.  That is when I text Dave my mileage, by golly, my miracle was a-happenin!

Several runs have brought me to tears as I have had spiritual experiences and felt my "wagon being pushed." On this day, my wagon was pushed.

I decided that at about mile 15 the "race" would begin as people's engines would start to fail. Many that had sped past me were now walking. Fatigue was setting in. At mile 20ish a runner was laying in the road with a leg locked in a cramp with another runner trying to help.  I wanted to yell out "PRAY!"  Mile 22ish I watched another runner literally dragging their injured leg. Again I wanted to shout "PRAY!" Legs and bodies were failing all around me.

It was every person for himself to get across the finish line now.

My Cheer Staff
I kept running. From mile 23-26 my legs were screaming. The pain was intense. My mind followed suit by screaming back to my legs (which were for sure engulfed in flame) that "I came to run, and that I would have plenty of time for walking the rest of my life!"

So I ran.

Yes, I ran the whole darn thing (well, except one big hill at mile 14 that I had previously deemed to not be worth the double effort.  Oh, and the aid stations. Gatorade has never tasted better).

4 hours and 55 minutes later with 26.2 miles behind me I crossed the finish line.

And just to please my mom, I put my shaky legs into my highest pair of high heels for church the next day and "acted" like all was well.

And, it is.