As promised, I am on the train to New York, and as expected, I am feeling less-than-confident about what Sunday will even look like.

Marathon day will hit exactly three weeks after Army Ten, and the ankle is doing much better since my post about that mistake. I haven’t run of course – except for a few experimental steps to catch a light or the bus. It’s been rainy this week so I’ve felt some aches and pain as pressure changes. And sometimes in the morning, especially heading down the stairs first thing, I feel it. But otherwise it’s been much quieter since those first terrible days after Army Ten.

Yesterday I went to see my poor, downtrodden, sick-of-me orthopedist. He poked at and pressed on my ankle from different angles and it felt fine. He stared at me incredulously, did the expected head-shaking and eye-rolling, shot down my witch doctor suggestions like PRP injections, and reluctantly gave his blessing for Sunday.

I asked about the best way to approach race day: run a few miles and walk one, do the whole thing really slow, run as far as I could to put mileage behind me before walking the rest? His advice was to just run it at a slow jog and try to keep a light pace. He did not support a walk-run approach as changing it up like that could be too unpredictable on it.

So that’s the plan. Go out slow and easy and light. I’m aiming for something in the 9s I guess, without any expectation that I’ll maintain that pace for 26 miles. I still want to at least go out under a 10 average to buy myself enough room if I have to, to walk the last couple (or dozen). I’ve got six and half hours to get through the course – which means I need to average about 14 minutes/mile to avoid getting swept up by the bus. I’m going out in the sub-elite group of Wave 1 (isn’t that funny?) so that at least buys me maximal course time to get this thing done. (Though it won’t win my any friends or admirers in that corral.)

People always describe endurance sports as being as much a mental  challenge as physical. The mental aspect is there in every race for sure, but with training and in good health, unless we’re talking Ironman, I’d say the physical  obstacles overshadow the mental – at least for me being mostly young(ish) and healthy(ish).

Not Sunday.

Sunday is going to be a brain game. My mind over the weakness of my matter. (Mind over marrow? Man I wish I hadn’t gotten all those concussions now.) I’ve got my music ready to go which will help. I’ve added some good stuff to the mix, but really a lot of it will come down to the Hamilton soundtrack. I haven’t let myself listen to it for a few weeks, hoping a little auditory denial will pay off when Aaron Burr drops the beat come race day. (No pressure Lin Manuel-Miranda, but my marathon basically lives and dies with you. [My marathon has its eye on you? Fellow musical theatre nerds?])

(Mostly) joking about that. (Mostly.) But seriously, I am so out of my mind (truly, see below) disappointed. I was so excited about the opportunity to do this race. It’s been a dream. And healthy Liz was minutes off a BQ eighteen months ago – it should have been no problem this weekend. I’m consistently and securely and comfortably pulling mid-7s, and I’ve worked really hard to get here, and year after year, fall marathon after fall marathon, it comes to nothing.

Over the last few weeks I’ve experienced waves of sadness – of regret – and I haven’t even crossed the start line.  Why does my body continue to let me down?

I keep asking myself what I could have done better or differently. The answer is really nothing. My worn out ortho went over my dexascan (bone density test) results with me and turns out they actually are not normal like I was told by the lab. I’ve got a density issue, and likely osteopenia in my ankles. He is hopeful though that work with my nutritionist will help, and wants me to see an endocrinologist too who can maybe get my body to absorb calcium and vitamin D correctly. Women have till age 35 to maximize bone density before it heads downhill – and as today is my 32nd birthday, the clock is ticking. (Why does no one believe my that I’m 29?!)

I’ve mentioned my pity parties before, and spent some previous blog time wallowing. No real updates on that except it gets worse as race day approaches. Also, now that Walking Dead is back, I have a new healthy thought: that my broken ankles are going to cost me my life in the inevitable zombocalypse. I’m pretty concerned about it. (Maybe, in a brilliant twist of undead, multi-sport irony, my bike will save me.)

As I stress about keeping my brain un-et, and envy the orthopedic fortitude (fortho-tude?) of every casual morning jogger I encounter, I swear to you dear reader (hi Mom!) that I’m never too far from the actual reality of my situation. I am alive, and mostly healthy, and I have a helluva husband who is sitting right next to me (literally at the moment and always figuratively). (And I’ve gotten made bday love on FB today – the true measure of support in one’s life! Thanks y’all! [I kid, but really, thank you!])

Here’s what’s most important though: I‘m running this weekend in memory of one of the most important friends I will ever have. My birthday twin, inspiration in all things fashion and attitude, solemate (yes that’s how I mean to spell that), the woman for whom my beloved Birkin is named, passed away two years and three days ago.

I can’t tell you how many hearts daily break remembering that she’s left us. I can tell you though that my friends and hers, and her amazing family, have helped to raise over $3400 in Mo’s memory, all going to the incomparable Gilda’s Club where it will be put to good use assisting people still battling that bastard cancer.

So that’s the real mental challenge of Sunday. Remembering every (likely painful) step that it’s not about me. I’m just the one who’s lucky enough to be on the course. And maybe at the end I’ll get something pretty and shiny to show for it. Mo would like that.

It’s been two weeks now since the Army Ten Miler, and in case you’re wondering…

…no, running was apparently not a great idea. My ankle was not healed and putting ten “training” miles on it was not helpful in terms of getting my broke ass over the finish line at NYC next week.

It was really fun though. (And served as a totally unnecessary reminder that I really love running.)

But alas in the days following the race, my ankle was ANGRY. I could barely walk, my ankle was just screaming in pain. Now 14 days out I still feel it some but it’s much improved. The closer we get to race day the more I can’t believe I have to run a completely untrained, injured marathon. (Of course I don’t have to. But not at least starting is a nonstarter.) I’ll do some more pre-marathon reflecting on Amtrak on the way to the race, for now, an actual 10 Miler race report.

The last few years, along with the Marine Corps Marathon, I’ve been registered for and missed the Army Ten Miler repeatedly thanks to these stress fractures.  I’ve never actually done Marine Corps, but I have done Army (not since 2012) so I knew what I was missing: a fan-f***ing-tastic race.

It’s the third largest ten mile race in the world, and the service men and women who run it and volunteer for it make for a really inspiring day. They also inspire huge crowds of supporters to line up along every possible inch of the course reverberating energy and good will.

Early to mid October is a great time to run in DC, and the couple times I’ve been able to participate (and those times like last year when I was relegated to sideline-reverberating [and maybe throwing pity party while coveting the healthy bones of the participants]) the weather has been beautiful. This year the morning was chilly, in the 40s, but in the 50s for most of the race. It was sunny, but not too glaring or roasting. (I say that, but Scott might feel differently since after realizing in the corral that I’d forgotten my own sunglasses I convinced him to give me his. And it was his birthday so, [not the best] wife of the year basically.)

I’m not sure what I predicted my time would be way back on that fracture-free optimistic (naive-but-should-have-known-better) spring day when I registered, probably something like 74 minutes. Whatever I predicted it was fast enough to place us in the first wave behind the Wheelchair and Wounded Warrior group. (Remember how I said it was an inspirational race?)

The only negative to seeing all the wounded racers and hand-cyclists, was that it made me think, well if these incredible people can do this with much more legitimate health complaints, then I surely can do it on a stress fracture! I think in retrospect the better lesson to have gleaned would have been, take care of your health and your body because these gifts can be fleeting.

Knowing I wouldn’t be going out as fast as healthy (stupid) Liz predicted, we positioned ourselves towards the middle of the corral and shivered for 45 minutes until the start gun went off. I was more bundled up than almost anyone else in the corral with my throw away thermal reflecting blankie from a previous race, and long sleeves on top and bottom. Not sure how the folks there in tanks and shorts survived. If we do Army Ten again next year we definitely won’t arrive an hour before start time – though it was at least a mile walk from where our Uber dropped us through all the corrals.

I’m grateful for (willfully blind) Liz’ presumption of health because being in the first wave is so necessary in Army 10. The gun went off at 8am and we were over the start line at 8:01. Others waited close to an hour as they inched their way up that long mile to the start. Though we began together, Scott and I soon lost each other in the crowd (I’m mostly an alone runner – with a few exceptions like half irons and full marathons on stress fractures. More on that next week.)

Everyone around me gleefully floored it onto the course, and I was battling down the urge to step on the gas too, but I mentally strong-armed (legged) myself into a stride a little slower than normal race pace. Like always I’d hit shuffle on my race mix, and like often, my iPod came through with the perfect beat in the song, S.O.B. by Nathanial Rateliff. When people pass me – running or even just walking around town – it triggers some innate competitive Pavlovian impulse to speed up. I don’t even realize I’m doing it most of the time, so it took a lot of effort to just stay the course – and the BPM. I actually ended up hitting repeat on that song once, to will myself to stay steady and safe.

I turned off coaching on the Nike+ app so that I wouldn’t compete with health mile times, and so I wasn’t sure what my pace was. I just knew that the pace felt easy and nowhere near max exertion.  In our too-long, too-cold corral hang out, I had downed a water bottle of Nuun, and by the time we started I had to pee. Figuring I wasn’t supposed to care about speed, just after the mile 2 marker I found a heaven-sent bank of porta potties. I took my time and peeled off my long-sleeved outer layer. I got myself readjusted – race belt, phone sleeve, and all that and set back out. Looking back at the Nike GPS, my mile time went from a 7:45 to 9:41 for mile 3, and I was actually proud of myself for taking that leisurely break rather than letting the race energy take over.

Miles 3 through 6 were just pure joy. People were everywhere cheering, there were bands, the weather could not have been better, my pace felt free and easy, and my ankle didn’t feel anything. Heading up the slight incline on Independence Ave I was so happy and had no question in my heart or legs about the wisdom of deciding to run. How could I not have run on such a glorious day?

Around mile 7 my left knee was aching some, which has been happening time to time this year. It acted up towards the end of the Rock N Roll Half, and in the last mile of the Nation’s Tri run. Still the ankle was holding up.

Then…the mother-clucking 14th Street Bridge. My nemesis. I will say I prefer running it to biking it. Honestly it was fine until half way through mile 8 when my right side started seizing into an awful cramp. I’m pretty sure I over fueled – meted out my nutrition like I would have for an all out effort which was unnecessary. My stomach was displeased with all the sugar in that 10k mark gu.

I walked about 30 seconds and tried again. And nope, ouch. So after 30 more seconds of running I walked about 2 or 3 minutes and then slowly picked up the pace. The cramp started working its way out, but then, son of a stitch, my ankle started squawking! It really freaked me out, so I took it way slow. But at that point I was almost at the mile 9 marker, and I was on a bridge so it wasn’t like I could have walked off the course anyway.

As I jogged, my ankle worked itself out and quieted, and the gu made its way less stabbingly through my digestive tract. Then Sia’s “Alive” shuffled onto the ol’ run mix and I started to feel great again. Next came one of my favorite tracks from Hamilton the Musical (“Satisfied” if you know the show; download it if you don’t) and that carried me over the finish line. A few hundred yards from the end I happened upon my tired hubby so we ended up crossing it together.

Upon finishing, I felt like I could have gone another 10 (or 16.2?) miles. Most days it’s disappointing to finish a race so full of energy, but considering my goal was to take ‘er easy, I was very happy with that result. I really felt like I’d done right by my body and ankle, and the ankle felt fine. The only things bothering me were the left knee a touch and a blister I’d worn into the arch of my right foot. Apparently those socks are too thick for my Nike Frees – glad I know before I try for 2.5x the distance.

Official race time showed a 1:22:56 with an 8:18 average. That’s about 8 minutes slower than I would have probably been happy with otherwise, but it was right on the money for what I (thought I) wanted/needed out of that day.

We finished early enough that the crowds were thin in the finisher’s area so we booked it out of there to take advantage of the still-empty metro. We walked the long mile back through the endless corrals and managed to time the weekend trains perfectly. (For the non-DCers, timing the metro perfectly even in rush hour is a miracle these days – on a Sunday it felt unreal.)

We decided on the way home to hit a noon showing of The Martian (one of our favorite books and now movies!). When we got off the train we wolfed down a quick brunch (and a couple mimosas), showered, and headed up to our favorite  theatre. After the movie, it was beautiful out, and it was Scott’s birthday, so we took the long and scenic route home, ambling through the DC Zoo and meandering up and down random streets in whatever you call the opposite of a beeline back home. The whole walk was probably close to 4 miles, and still my ankle felt fine. I was thinking, ‘yeah, today was great, what was I so afraid of?’

And then, it was Monday. And I could barely walk.

The few days after the race were really terrible. I was in so much pain. And so afraid that I’d really ended the NYC Marathon chase for good. I tried taking the bus to work instead of walking, and started doing what I am loathe to: I commuted in sneakers! I am vain and shoe-obsessed, but even my many adorable commuter flats could not quiet my shrieking, hysterical ankle. So I’ve been sucking it up and lacing up to get to and from the office. (It’s probably character-building, [and hopefully bone-rebuilding] as I’m sure my preening vanity over footwear is not healthy.)

Things are feeling a lot better since then. Today Birkin and I went down to cheer on all the Marine Corps Marathoners and we probably walked 8 miles over the course of over 4 hours. We even had to run for a couple traffic lights and things felt good.

But I’m still basically in a constant panic over next weekend.

I surpassed my fundraising goal a few days ago by close to $400 and I’ve been overwhelmed by friends’ support and generosity in that effort. More than that, I am running in memory of my friend Mo who passed two years ago this Tuesday and her family has made my heart ache more than my ankle ever could with their support and love and I do not want to let her or them down.

I’m going to the ortho on Thursday, probably for one of those plasma injections, and we’ll see if that helps at all. And Im trying to make a plan for when to walk and when to run next Sunday. Again, more on all that later this week. (I’ve got a lot planned for our Amtrak trip!)

The jury is out for me on whether Army Ten was a good or bad idea. Before the race I’m pretty sure I was getting close to being recovered from the fracture, and I’ve reversed that progress rather than giving myself 3 more weeks of uninterrupted recovery. Then again, it’s hard to regret a day that wonderful.

 

I’ll keep this brief. Tomorrow is the Army Ten Miler. I have been registered for this race the past couple years, but have not gotten to run it since 2012. It’s one of my favorites, so while I”m feeling a bit fraught about the decision to run, I’m generally pretty excited. Generally.

I’ve gone back and forth all week about whether I should do it, trying to figure out the best (race)course of action for my ankle, body, and fitness, going into the NYC Marathon (on Nov. 1). On the one foot, if I abstained from Army, that would give me five solid weeks of recovery for my ankle bone between Giant Acorn sprint tri (race report almost finished, remember what I said before? It was awesome!) to potentially get the bone all the way or most of the way healed. (Heeled? Podiatry puns, it’s [almost] too easy.)

On the other foot, the thought of running 26+ miles with only a 10k and a 5k under my race belt since August absolutely terrifies me. So between that and giving in to my very strong desire to actually run the races I’ve paid for this year, I’m Army Ten-ing in the morning.

It’s totally possible that this is the wrong decision, and will make things worse for New York. My ankle has been a little achey yesterday and today thanks to rain and low barometric pressure, which has me nervous. But it is also totally pain-free when the weather cooperates and felt fine during Nation’s Tri and Giant Acorn. (Plus, the rib I broke when I was 16 still hurts in low pressure and before thunderstorms, and I’m pretty sure that’s healed up by now.)

The plan and challenge tomorrow will be to go slow. I’m going to turn off coaching on my Nike + app and I’m putting together a playlist with slower BPMs than I usually gravitate to. (I’m totally running to Hamilton the musical on repeat, let’s be honest.) If I don’t hear the judge-y Nike lady telling me how slow I’m going, and I keep my cadence chill, I think that will give me the best shot at pain-free success tomorrow and on through Nov. 1.

The pain will likely be ok (by which I mean, not be at all) during the run thanks to adrenaline, it’s the next couple days that will render the verdict on whether Army was a good or bad idea. If it feels alright after, the big question then becomes, do I try to run at all between now and NYC? I think the answer is still no, but I’ll play it by ear after tomorrow.

Till then, it’s off to an early pastaliscious dinner, early to bed, and at dawn, we ride! (We take an uber to Pentagon City and carefully jog ten miles while cranking musical theatre.)