I had absolutely no time goal for this race, as per my book’s instructions, and it paid off. Considering the sickness I felt at the end of mile 15, if I’d been checking clocks I might not have had the surge at the end to finish at almost exactly 5 hours! A secret hope I had, but only at the end when I realized it might be within my grasp.
Went out for my second-to-last 3-miler yesterday. Today, I went to yoga. It’s been so long. I think it helped, though I still felt the tenderness in my left leg, which has traveled to reach up behind my knee and hamstring.
After that, I went out to buy my shirt for the big day. Well, two. One long sleeved, one short. Will probably go with the latter because I bought some handy arm warmer things at Paragon Sports per the suggestion of a marathon-veteran friend. They’re like socks, for arms. And I can throw them down when I get warm enough, instead of struggling with a jacket or rolling up sleeves. This should suffice, especially according to the latest weather news, which predicts a milder, temperature in the 50s day.
I’m actually really excited for Sunday. I’ve only had very few, brief flutters of anxiety. Which ironically probably prompts the majority of any anxiety I’ve felt, because if I’m not nervous now, what? Am I saving it for race day? Am I gonna be puking at the start line?
They didn’t seem to have devices for that at Paragon.
8 miles! Done! Only very moderate pain and discomfort. Less than a week left!
Today I did the appointed 3 miles, after resting yesterday. As happens with a lot of these “shorter” distances, I had to curb complacency. A wise choice given the frostier temperature and severe wind I encountered near the East River.
I tried out the new Champion zip-up I acquired at the Brooklyn Target yesterday, probably the only time during this training that I wore a jacket for a run. But I’ve begun bracing myself for the end-of-Nov. and early-morning chillier temperatures that my late afternoon regimen has made me completely ignorant of. Yesterday’s shopping trip also yielded the necessary long-sleeve Under Armour shirt (that claims to be good in extreme heat… but I’m thinking with sleeves, and its ability to stave off sweat, it has to function well in colder weather? Hopefully?) and gloves.
On the way to the subway for the ride over, I also loaded up on energy gel for the big day. Going against the usual wisdom of not changing your habits right before the race, I opted for a new brand, new flavors: strawberry banana and berry something. I’m not worried. Gel is gel is disgusting candle splooge. This stuff has to be better than my previous vanilla foray.
I’ve also stopped drinking, effective after last Saturday’s festivities. Trying to also cut out most unnecessary sugars, and next week I’ll go down my book’s list of “good carbs” to slowly and surely start storing up on those.
Tomorrow’s a big day—the first time THE big day will register on a more accurate 10-day weather forecast. Doing anti-rain, anti-beating sun (prob. no worries there), anti-freezing dance. In my head. While applying Icy Hot.
Last week was the first of my tapering (aka lowering mileage in the few weeks before the marathon) but I didn’t really get to enjoy it until today.
My injury, more nagging since my 18 miles last week were themselves tapered to 13, prevented any of my runs. Instead, I cross-trained on the elliptical to keep my fitness level up. But today, after copious amounts of Icy Hot, an ice pack and calf brace, I ran the 9 miles. Which brought much relief. I’m still confident I can finish the marathon with the training I’ve had so far, and as long as my injury recovers, but I’d like to finish out these last two weeks on schedule.
Tomorrow is more resting and icing, then I start my week a little late with drastically shorter distances (3, 5, 3 then 8). Of course, distance is irrelevant if my leg is acting up so much that I can’t even run the first half mile. This is requiring a lot of patience, in very little time. Also, that pesky faith faith faith. Baby.
Was meant to be another 18. Was meant to follow the traditional weekly schedule I’ve fallen into of 5, 8 and then another 5 miles. But last week my leg was being tricky. Those 5 became 2.5 on the treadmill then 30 minutes on the elliptical.
In my next session, I geared up and left the house running for 8, but found myself completely off-balance and dragging my injury with me, so I went to the gym and cross-trained on the elliptical for 80 minutes (your cross-training is supposed to match your time, not distance).
Halloween day I was set to go for the 5, but again my injury made even walking difficult so I didn’t even attempt it.
Early in the week I had decided to push my long run entirely out of the weekend in order to enjoy it and the festivities, so at least I already knew I had time to recover.
But yesterday, probably in part due to all the dancing of Halloween and (lowish) heels of my costume, I realized a long run was impossible when the inner section of my lower left leg was pulsating at me. I had even hydrated, eaten and rested up for it. But it was too big a risk.
So last night was a redo of pasta, water and Vitamin Water. Today my left Achilles felt better. I still took Advil to be safe. I stretched, ate, digested and hydrated some more. Strapped myself into my fuel pack, took some deep breaths and went.
Took my usual East and Hudson riverside route. Turned around circa 50somethingish street on the Hudson, mile 9, to come back. Sun was already almost completely set and though I didn’t have a coat, I wasn’t too cold. I had consumed almost all my Vitamin Water, but at that point I figured I’d be okay. I was nearing 12 miles and the hardest part for me (the end of the out and the beginning of the back in my out-and-back course) was behind me.
Then a pain kicked in. Instead of my left Achilles, it was my right. And it was sharp. Soon it was traveling up my leg, behind my knee and into my hamstring. I began stopping for longer walks, until they became longer than my running intervals, and eventually I had to stop altogether. It’s likely I could have finished out my 18 on pure adrenaline and what little numbness was blocking out full pain. But I had already dealt with the impatience of recovery time in my left leg, and I wasn’t about to gamble with my right.
I stopped, and now cold in the dark, found the nearest subway station.
I got on to the 5 train, intending to go to Union Square and switch to the L, thinking of my best bet at cutting down cold air exposure in a sweaty T-shirt. The doors closed on me and one last-minute guy that jumped in, wanting more space and conversation than people cared to give him, in that packed rush-hour car.
We began moving, and soon total nausea overcame me. I was certain I was going to vomit and I had nowhere to do it. I looked at my fuel pack, the measely small pouch housing my iPhone, most of a Cliff bar, keys and 75 cents change from the fare kiosk. I looked into the corner of the train door, muttering Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod as Jason Schwartzman droned on about Bored to Death on KCRW’s The Treatment. The only decision left was which unsuspecting passenger squished next to me would be wearing Wheaties shrapnel.
Last-minute guy turned to me, asked something about where I ran, obviously noticing my belt. I couldn’t completely hear him over Schwartzman and my loud thoughts of COMPLETE panic. I made some I don’t know motion, probably a sound or two, limiting mouth movement for fear too much opening would give the wrong signals to my churning stomach. I accidentally elbowed a businessman behind me and didn’t even make an attempt to apologize. I was sparing him.
But last-minute guy persisted. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?” I was surely turning white. “I can’t, I’m sick…” I whimpered. “Too much running?” he asked. Again, I grunted, shrugged, something nonverbal and nonsatisfying.
“Need some water?” he asked. I shook my head, the mere thought of ingesting anything making my stomach seize up.
“Hey, anybody have water?!” he yelled to the packed train.
“It’s ok,” I whispered, watching all the stations fly by through the window, cursing myself for the once-wise decision to get on the express, and vowing to get off at the next stop, whatever it was, because I couldn’t even remember the sequence stops at that moment but just needed a trash can to keel over into.
“No it’s not!” he answered me, then to the Wall Streeters again: “Anybody got a water? Anybody? I’ll pay you!”
At this point my internal voice was too loud and panicked to see if anything happened, but I don’t think anyone responded. Finally, the train slowed. It stopped. At Union Square. I thanked the guy for his help and rushed out and into the nearest bench, head between legs.
After I collected myself, I knew I could not get on another train. I got above ground, and risking the cold, waited for the bus. There would be no freaking out when I could get out more freely. And I already felt better after getting off the train and sitting down.
So I made it home. Running it might have been easier. Though injury would be greater. Now, I ice, stretch and wait. Marathon is less than three weeks away.
Was difficult. I’ve had a two-week injury hiatus from the long distances and this was a bit of a shock to the system. Near the end I just felt exhausted. And slightly sick. But I made it through.
It took me 3 hours and 20 minutes, which is no amazing pace and funny considering I believe the qualification for Boston for women my age is only slightly above that. And that’s 8 miles more. But I’m still proud.
As I was looping back down the Hudson River and through Battery Park, the sun was setting in spectacular orange shades behind the Statue of Liberty. It was beautiful. But it left me in the dark for stretches of the north path home on the east side, where stagnant construction areas make for foreboding, empty little dark nooks near the water. And yet—I’ve never been more open to being mugged in my life. You want to stop me from this fantastic running exercise? And steal my energy gel??
It also got a little chillier, and I probably could have used a windbreaker of some sort to pull on after dark. Hopefully that poor decision doesn’t bite me in the ass with bronchitis or some business.
So now I recover. I’m icing my leg and I placed a gauze pad on the bottom of my right foot, where a blister apparently exploded with blood today, soaking through two very thick layers of socks. Somehow, I just never felt that.
Booked the hotel room last night.
More importantly, got back into my training this week, after a week and a half off for my leg to recover. I ran 5 miles Monday and 8 miles Tuesday, outside. I felt fine after the 8, which made me so happy. I can still do this! I probably won’t need to drop down to the half marathon on race day!
Yesterday I went to the gym to do the allotted 5, and give my joints a slight break from the uneven pavement. But I only ran 2 miles there, then did the rest on the elliptical. I was protecting my leg a bit, which I strangely felt more on the treadmill, after an entire day break, than I had on my 8-miler. But I was also a little depleted, of energy, breath, morale. I probably wasn’t too properly hydrated and fed, and though another reason for the gym refuge was the strangely sunny and warm weather we had yesterday, I still felt it beating in through the giant facing windows and I was warm.
I’m not too down about it, though, as I was prepared to give myself the greatest leeway on that run so I could be rested and non-injurious as possible to myself before the, gulp, 18 miles this weekend.
There’s not much I can do in advance of the moment-of-truthiness awaiting me along the East River and Hudson route that day, or for that matter, the weather. Rain is predicted for tomorrow, and if that’s the case, I may run Sunday instead, where projections are free of rain cloud icons. But I need to know soon so I can appropriately prep with either carbs and rest or drinks and debauchery tonight. Time to go check the latest data!
My calf/ankle/Achilles issue kept me stationary for Thursday’s prescribed 5 miles. But Friday night I prepared for the next day’s 16. I stayed in, ate a pasta dinner and hydrated myself. The next day I ate appropriately, waited for digestion and then suited up into my water belt and iPhone and headed toward the river.
I made it about a mile down before I had to admit defeat. It was possible to run on my leg, but I felt every stride and it definitely didn’t seem wise. I could even feel a pain in my lower back, as I had for Wednesday’s 8 miles, probably due to compensating for one side of my body with my ungraceful running form. If I didn’t injure my Achilles worse, it’s possible I could create a whole new issue elsewhere. Which is endlessly frustrating. In a terrible way, I almost wanted a more obvious, undoubted injury so there’s none of this hesitance. Healthy or injured; this in-between leaves me in limbo and questioning every decision. It was probably right to lean toward safety and forgo that long distance for fear of exacerbating the situation, but there’s no way to know if I could have just “sucked it up.” I hate being behind in my training. I’ve followed the schedule precisely thus far and have been so proud of my progress. Now I’m forced to waver on it every day.
Like today, first back after skipping two runs. I went to the gym. My left leg still hurts, and climbing up and down stairs is a long and painful process. But I needed to try the treadmill. I did. I ran for maybe two minutes before I disembarked for an hour on the elliptical instead. My book recommends “water running” and stair climbing as effective cross-training activities during injury. I do not own or have access to a pool. If I did I still wouldn’t know what underwater running would entail. And stairs turn me into a 90-year-old woman. Elliptical it was. And my leg was okay.
Strangely, both times I’ve relied on this machine I feel it more on my right side, specifically at my right ankle, where I have metal implants from a broken ankle seven years ago. So far, it’s earned its bionic nickname, especially where its counterpart has failed. So I don’t know what’s causing its elliptical presence.
Tomorrow I really want to try for my 8 miles. I’m currently icing my calf/ankle area at an elevated height and wishing for some recovery. I’m really so miserable about this whole situation. I hate feeling helpless and unsure.
