Diary of a Wimpy Runner

Runner Confession:

I'm a wimp- a wimp with a very large tolerance for pain and a larger dislike of doctors. I will interview CEOs and go toe-to-toe with academic department chairs, but when it comes to making a doctor's appointment, I throw temper tantrums. My knees started to bother me soon after starting karate. Ninja-ing, as I like to call it, is a lot of kicking, jumping, squatting, jump squatting, lunges, more jumping, twisting, spinning, and more kicking. All of these actions are very different from the one foot in front of the other motion of running. The discomfort was not surprising and would easily remedied with a dose of glutimine in my post-ninja smoothie.

One night in early November, we did nothing but right leg front kicks. We worked on form and power. And  my right knee has not been the same. I woke up the next day and went for a run and felt fine. I wore heels to the office and noticed some extra soreness.

I should note here that the combination of karate and running means that I'm almost always sore. Before I started karate, I was doing strength training with a personal trainer. At this point, I'm able to recognize typical muscle soreness from something-ain't-right. Soreness means your muscles are growing or changing. There are exercise-y people with scientific definitions and reasons for why soreness is a good thing.

Back to the night of my knee. I woke up two days after the front-kick fest and was greeted with a sharp, burning fire sensation in my right knee. I iced it throughout the day and kept my leg elevated. I bought a cheap-o knee brace from CVS that afternoon and felt immediate relief after putting it on. I went to ninja that night and out to the bar after.

A dull ache has persisted in my right knee since. I've iced. I worn the stupid, cumbersome knee brace that makes my thigh look like a sausage. The brace helps the knee but hurts the rest of my leg. I've diagnosed myself with runners knees, torn meniscus, sprained ligaments, tendinitis, arthritus, and the same thing that Chase Utley has. I'm on the DL list.

While the breakdown in my runnerness of late has come from a busy schedule and conflicting priorities, there is also a little voice in the back of my head saying, "ummm..... maybe this needs looked at." And also a louder, nag-type real voice from boyfriend and mother telling me the same thing. Here's the thing: I hate doctors. I resist going until I'm on my figurative death bed. I subscribe to my father's theory of illness, "I can go to the doctors and get meds and I'll be better in seven days. Or I can just let my body heal and I'll be better in a week." I even resist taking OTC medicine until orange juice fails me.

It took me three months to gather the courage to call an orthopedic doctor. I faked that I was looking for recommenations. I wanted to wait until after Gasparilla. Honestly, I'm scared! Dr. Google and the staff of Runner's World have the rational side of me convinced that this a minor injury that can be healed with ice and rest. The irrational side of me has been listening to my mother too much and is pretty sure that I'm going to need a total knee replacement and will never be able to run again. I'll just have to learn to swim or bike or deal with my emotions through a non-physical outlet. The horror! Even worse, the irrational side has a 60-40 majority.

My appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping that I will be a  waste of the doctor's time and this chronic dull ache is just a symptom of overuse.  But, what if it's not?

Don't call it a comeback

But I ran on 4 of the past 5 days. This hasn't happened in months!
Don't call it a comeback. I’m resetting. I'm starting over. I'm redefining my relationship with running and what being a runner will mean to me in the future and how it got me to this point.
I started "really" running in the fall of 2008. I was sad, lonely, and miserable. Things change. Addresses, friends, jobs, goals, priorities, relationships, families, interests, everything, attitudes--change.

Fast forward to 2011 and I’m anything but sad, lonely or miserable. I’m crazy busy and happier than ever. I keep getting bogged down in what my running used to be. It was a defense mechanism and a way of establishing myself in my own terms. I used to run when I was unhappy. I used to run to prove it. I used to run because I didn’t have anything else do to. I used to run because I was afraid of gaining weight. I used to run because I wanted to be stronger, faster, leaner. I used to run because other people didn’t. I used to run because I needed to feel some form of accomplishment in the day. I used to run because I did not feel good about myself.

Those deep-seated motivators simply don’t light a fire under my feet anymore. I’m not so worried about gaining a few pounds because I’ve finally learned that what is in my head is far more important my pant size.

I used to run to prove “it.” I would run through or over whatever “it” that was missing in my life or the “it” that I was not succeeding with. I had to prove I was something outside of ‘editor’ or the unhappy person I was on the verge of becoming. Would you rather have someone say, “oh, she’s a runner,” or “oh, she’s a bitch.” I might have made another mistake at work, but I ran 6 miles that morning. I don’t see the connection either but that got me through the day. I might not have any one to go home to but there was always a treadmill waiting for me. I didn’t need anyone because I had my sneakers and myself. Get it?
Running is often about challenging yourself and reaching deep down to see how far you can go. I now know I can run 13.1 miles and am capable of doing more. It taught me how to set goals and plan. I don’t feel the same urge to go further and faster. I’ve achieved the goals I wanted to achieve through running and in a few months will have achieved some significant life goals as well.

I’m currently working a new set of running and life goals. The past month(s) off was not a slump. It was a reset. I will continue to run and sign up for races and buy adorable running clothes because I simply enjoy it. It’s a part of my life now but it is not my life now. I have an ultimate goal of running 2011 Philadelphia Marathon in November and beating my half-marathon PR of 2:09. But first, I have a Master’s degree to complete, a career to manage, boyfriend to spend time with, and a family I’d like to see more than once every three months.

As my favorite singer/song-writer and this blog’s namesake once said,

“I’ve got more and more to do/ I’ve got less and less to prove/ And it took me too long to realize that I don’t take good picture/because I have the kind of beauty that moves.”

Defeat at Gasparilla: Running without Respect

In my last post, I was expressing concerns and excitement over the Publix's Gasparilla Distance Classic Michelob Ultra Challenge. I was going to be running a 15K and 5K on Saturday and a half marathon and 8K on Sunday. And attempting to say the entire name of the race correctly, holy brand names! Well, friends. I did not complete the challenge. I got through the 15K and 5K on Saturday.

My legs were a little more sore than I would have liked as I was lining up for the second race on Saturday morning. I heard someone in the corral say that the 5+ 3K was  5 miles. When I thought that a 5 + 3K was 4 miles, it was bearable. But the thought of having to run 5 miles after running 13.1 miles when my legs were tired enough after having only run 15K, was just overwhelming. I decided then and there on the spot that I wasn't going to do the fourth race.

My favorite part of the entire weekend was that I was running the majority of the half marathon with my friend, Kylie. This was her first half and she did so well. She maintained a strong pace and didn't stop once. We were together until around mile 4 when I got a call from Mother Nature. I jumped into the slowest line ever for a porta potty and promised Kylie I'd catch up. I ended up doing a sprint/walk/sprint/walk combo for about the next three or four miles, finally catching her at around mile 6. I  The sprinting wore me out (or the 13 miles the day before) and by mile 11, I just couldn't go anymore. I watched Kylie's white hat and long pony-tail truck forward and was crushed. It was one of my worst runner moments ever. I so wanted to cross that finish line with her. Finding her at the finish line and our sore, slow walk back to the car was one of my best runner moments.



It's been a few weeks and I'm still digesting my defeat at Gasparilla. My  head and heart were never really in any of the races. I was too busy with work, school and social life to have properly trained for ANY distance race. I knew that. I could not rely on the confidence of good training. I expected the ego and hubris of having run so many other half marathons and distance races to carry me for 30 miles. Stretching and hydration, I thought, would be the keys to success. I stretched. I drank loads of water and Gatorade. I ate super well. I did not train.

I said I was doing this four-race challenge because "I needed a win." To be honest, the amount my butt getting kicked to me kicking butt lately has been disproportionate. But I lost. And I needed to lose. I needed to be reminded that just like everything in this world, runnning requires dedication and practice. You can not just think about running. You have to respect the distance and the sport.

 I allowed, or had to allow, life get in the way of running this winter. I had three very challenging graduate classes, an overwhelming amount of work and stress, a new apartment, a new (real) relationship and simply did not have the time, or energy, to properly train. I have to respect my limitations and learn from this experience.

Even though I didn't complete that fourth race and the three races prior weren't my best, I did run 25 miles in one weekend. And that is STILL something to be happy about. Maybe next year, when grad school is done and I've finally unpacked this apartment, I'll train properly and return to Gasparilla for round 3.

I may have lost that battle, but I'm gonna win this war!

Dead Runner Walking

Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into and why won't I back down? Challenge, my friends, challenge.

I'm blogging (or avoiding doing homework) from the glory that is St. Petersburg, Florida. I'm visiting with my good friend Kylie Matthews and journeying into my potentail runner death this weekend. It's called the Gasparilla Distance Classic and it may be either my worst failure or greatest triumpth.

I'm participating in the Michelob Ultra Gasparilla Challenge. God and my right knee willing, I will run the Publix 15K which is followed by a 5K. That's two races in one morning. I can do that. 15K = 9 miles, 5K=3 miles. SO that's 12(ish) miles in one day. I can do that. I did the 15K last year in 90 minutes and have since beat that time in several other races. I remember crossing the 15K mark of the Diva's Half Marathon at 85minutes.
With time to stretch and rehydrate, another 3 miles isn't so bad. Even with a minimal amount of training I've been able to get in this winter, I'm not worried about tomorrow.

It's Sunday where things are getting scary. Because I'm not sane and because I want a HUGE medal and because I, apparently, love pain, I'll be participating in the second part of the challenge-- a half marathon (#8, whatwhat!) followed by a 5+ 3K.

 

I have no idea what a 5 + 3K is but rumor has it that it's about 4 miles. So, thats 13.1 miles + 4 miles = 17 miles. So, for the math whizzes out there- that is 12 Saturday miles + 17 Sunday miles = 29 miles. In two days. In non-math terms, that's just CRAZY.

I feel unprepared. While I've run seven half marathons and other races, I've never run more than 15 miles. I'm trying to harness the power of positive thinking and tell myself how awesome I am and that I CAN DO THIS! But, I keep flashing to the horror that was the last three miles of the Atlanta Half Marathon.


Does that look like someone who had fun running 13.1 miles? No.

I'm trying to remember the good races like Diva's and Rutgers. I'm trying to give myself credit for having found time to get ANY running in between a nonstop/full time life. I am accepting the fact that THIS IS GOING TO HURT.

Luckily, I'll have a running buddy on Sunday for the first part. Kylie will be running her first half marathon and since my legs are going to be tired from the previous day's 12 miles, I'm running with her as she dominates those 13.1 miles like they're Wendy's Spicy Chicken Sandwhiches. She's going to rock it. She rocked the 15K last year. I'm excited to run with her as she experiences the half marathon distance.


Kylie and I after the 2010 Gasparilla 15K



Going slowly, conserving energy and not burning out are my goals for the half. I worry about the 'runover' and my knees and shins. I worry about puking or passing out or how I'm going to get through this race without my headphones. I worry about dropping and getting the first DNF. Essentailly, I'm worried about failure. I need and I want this win but I have doubts. Is there anything more annoying than self doubt?

I had the option to only register for the half. Or only do the 15K, 5K and Half. But no, I wanted to do the complete challenge. And I will. And it's not gonna be pretty and there is a lot that can go wrong. But a lot can go right. And hopefully, by Sunday afternoon- I'll be watching the Phillies beat the Yankees in a preseaon exhibition game after having run 29 miles in one weekend and having amazed myself in the process.

Go Phils!

Spring Training 2010

Running in Circles

Tomorrow morning, I'll report to the exact same desk where I started my career. Almost five years ago, a very nervous 23 y/o girl with very little professional experience and a mom-like hairstyle wobbled into the lobby of the ETS Operations Center in New Jersey and hoped for best. She had gotten stuck in traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike twice during the 60-mile commute from her parent's house in Chester County and was already an hour late. The AC also wasn't working in her beat-up red Cavalier and thought it wasn't hot outside, she definitely perspired more on the stressful commute than one would like on the first day of a new job.

She clutches her fancy leather portfolio full of newspaper clippings and freshly printed resumes, and watches the fancy business people hustle in and out of the lobby. Soon, a beautiful, gregarious woman comes out to greet the nervous girl. A big smile and warm laugh lets this girl know things will be okay. Minna leads this girl to a small office with a pile of Post-It Notes, an uncomfortable chair and a pretty blond coworker named Kristen. They liked my purse.

I ended up working at the Operations Center for close to four years. I turned 24 shortly after that nervous day and am now staring at 29. I made friends. I made mistakes. I learned a lot. I got to know those "fancy" business people and inadvertently became one. That lobby I waited for Minna in once served as a foyer for a second home, with a second family.

A lot has happened in the five years since I first sat at Z-xxx. I'm not a temp.I don't live with my parents anymore. My hair is a lot longer, my style is a lot better. About a  year ago, I left the Ops Center, or Z Building, when I accepted a position with a different department. It's been a rough year as is expected whenever there is a job change. One of the many lessons of the past five years is that a desk is a desk and your performance is what matters.  But I still can not help but sigh and shake my head at the irony of it.

I'll walk confidently into that lobby tomorrow, carrying a hefty box of work and a good amount of stress, and a very full briefcase of readings for the final classes of Master's Degree. I'll say hi and how are yous to the fancy business people. It's a full circle, yes, but it's one of those kind that spiral upwards.

Would Rather be Running....

Between a full-time career, full-time graduate school, an active social calender, karate and trying to run 20-25 miles a week, my life is often a study in time management and planning ahead.

 One thing I'm learning, or trying to learn, or becoming aware that I need to learn, is to not expect perfection is all of these areas all at once. There will be weeks when I'm too tired or overwhelmed to go to the grocery store to stock up on healthy foods and will survive via Wawa. There will be weekends when I'm too exhausted to get off my couch. There will be days at work when I can toil away at school work without my inbox suffering and then there will be days when I'm stuck in meetings or have deadlines and my homework won't get done. There will be nights when my brain only wants to watch The Daily Show and not write an article summary. There will be times when I will leave a chapter unread in order to get a beer with friends. There will be mornings when I will manage to get out of bed for a run. And there will be nights when I have enough energy to hit a treadmill at 9 or 9:30. And there will mornings when I didn't get to bed until 2am and a 5am run would just make for a miserable day.




It's always a balance of what you want to do and what you have to do. I am driven by an irrational fear of failure so many times my decisions are based on the lesser of two evils effect. I want to go to the gym and run but I need to do the course reading. I do not want to get fat or out of shape. But more than that- I don't want to be called on in class and not know what's going on or fail an exam. So, I rationalize that I can work out more on the weekends or that 2-5lbs can be lost. The $3,000 I'm paying for that class can only be spent once.



Running has, unfortunately, taken a back seat in all of this. Nothing makes me more upset or conflicted than the gym v. work debate. Things would be a lot easier if the ground wasn't covered in a foot of snow and topped with a sheet of ice and if the shoulders of roads weren't buried under mounds of white mess. It's simply not safe to run outside in the Northeast right now. (That is another blog post for another time.) School work v work work is easy enough to rationalize. School work v chores or socializing is another easy win. However, school v treadmill gets me every time. As I sit here with a document design book on my lap, I'm silently freaking out that I've only run 6 miles this week. How will life as I've known it for two years continue if I can't have time to run? Insert world ending noises!!

 It will. Hopefully, by time this quarter is over-not only will I have figured out what I need to do to get above a B in tech writing, but also how to give myself some credit for handling a pretty packed schedule and not beat myself up for a few missed miles or gained pounds.

It's supposed to get easier

Isn't it supposed to get easier?

This thought repeated itself through my head as I struggled through what should have been an easy 6 mile run.  I had to break it into two 5Ks and still barely finished. I've been struggling with running this winter.

I've been struggling with a lot more than running this winter.

Hell, it's been a struggle filled year.

Ten months ago, I left a job I thought was horrible. I thought the work was boring and there was no future with the company. I was snotty and self-righteous. I left for what I thought was greener pastures.

I was warned that the first year would be rough. I didn't realize that the first year would be marked by such frustrating levels of insecurity and self-doubt that sometimes I think parking my car is the only thing I do correctly. I get out of the car and immediately start doing things incorrectly. I never know for sure if I am doing anything right but, boy, they let me know when I'm wrong.

Every day I tell myself that it's going to get better. It's going to get easier. But it doesn't seem to get any easier. It seems to get harder and harder to put up with the condescending remarks, the arbitrary and shallow processes, the remarkably unfriendly personnel. It digs deeper each day.

Running got easier. It never got easy-- but it got easier. I was at the gym tonight after a miserable 10 hours at the office preceded by a late night of doing schoolwork. I resisted the urge to ignore my healthy lunch and hit the vending machine for every chocolate product in there. I was at the gym, so why was running a simple 5K so damn hard? Was it because I did a strong tempo run last night and my legs were tired? Was my bra/tank combo too tight and making it hard to breath? Did I eat enough today? Am I just tired?  

Or, is it just life?