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.