It's not the 4 weeks that sucks so much...

...it's the fact that I've lost my fall racing. That's what I have to keep telling people when they say, "It's only 4 weeks, then you'll be even stronger!"

I know, I know. All of this is so that I can run for the rest of my life -- because ultimately that's what's important to me.

But it really sucks to know that my better racing happens in the fall, and this fall is now worthless to me. I don't get to enjoy the cooling temps. I don't get to see a strong training round through to a marathon that won't be in 85* temps. I'm missing good races. Everyone else is progressing around me.

I spent 60 boring minutes on the elliptical today. At least I got a pretty good sweat working. Then I jumped in the pool for 1000 yards. Not much, but it's something.

I've been finding myself staring at runners when I pass them on the road. I slow down my bike or my car and watch. I note how their form looks. I silently applaud them. I'm jealous of them -- even those, maybe especially those, who seem to be struggling. I want to be them. All of them.

I also marvel at those who seem to continually improve and excel each and every time they get out there. I wish my body was stronger, like theirs. I spent much of today watching/following Charisa kick ass at Ironman Wisconsin, and got emotional as I watched her finish with a big smile on her face. 5th overall female. Amazing.

I want to race. I want to be happy about my racing. I tasted a bit of that last fall, and I'm bummed I'm missing the chance this fall. But most of all, I just want to run. So I'll deal with the next (hopefully only) 4 weeks, and I'll do what I need to do to get my leg stronger so I can run for the rest of my life.

A month.

I spent the whole day with doctors today. Met with a sports med doc that was recommended, and he ordered a whole bunch of tests. Went from his office to an x-ray place, got that done and took the films back to the doc. Bones are good (no shit -- I KNOW this is muscular). The nurse at the doc's was trying to set up an MRI, but that won't happen till next week. From the doc's, I went to a hospital in Camden for an ultrasound to make sure I don't have blood clots. I don't (NO SHIT! THIS IS MUSCULAR!). Then I spent the next 15 minutes on the phone with the Physical Therapy place, where the doc wants me to go 2-3x's a week (as if $ is growing on trees for me with all these copays) for therapy that includes Graston stuff and other things. He thinks I may have torn something and then overused it or something and the scar tissue is wreaking havoc. Or something like that.

I broke down in tears when he told me he doesn't want me to run until he sees me again. In a month.
I did. I broke down in tears right there in the office.
He said, "I know, this is hard. I understand."
I told him, "I appreciate that, but you don't understand. This has been the hardest year of my life. I've dealt with death, a broken relationship, criminal behavior against me, screwed up work stuff, and a failed marathon -- just to name a few. I need to run."

He didn't know what to say. He handed me a tissue.

So, that's it. I know I should look for the good. I know I'm not terminally ill, my family's ok, and I can still bike/swim/whatever.

But I need to run.

Losing my identity

Running has been my escape. My stress-reliever, my challenge, my focus. It has been my source of accomplishment and struggle. It has been what I do, who I am.

This summer, I've struggled with an on-going left calf/achilles issue. I've gone to 3 different people about it. I have been massaged, activated, manipulated, ART'ed, taped, and compression sleeved. I've gotten better, I've gotten worse, and now I'm in the stalled, not-getting-better state. I get worked on, get things loosened up, try to run as the doc prescribes, and the achilles tightens up again. I can't run right now.

I have had to bail out of 2 races already -- a 5k that all my running store friends run, and a triathlon (last post) that I did the first 2 legs of and then walked off the course. I planned on running the Philadelphia Distance Run (now the Rock 'n Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon) on September 19. Can't now. I started training this summer for the Philadelphia Marathon in November -- hoping to have a good fall race. Can't now. I can't even run more than a mile this week without my gait altered and my leg hurting.

These days, I'm no longer a runner. No running to relieve my stress, no races to look forward to, no part of my day I look forward to like I had. I feel my identity slipping away.

People have tried to tell me that running isn't who I am -- it's only part of who I am. Family, friends -- they all remind me of this. They remind me I'm not battling a terminal disease. They tell me this is temporary and I should just focus on other parts of my life. I appreciate that, and I know all those things are true, but not being able to run cuts me.

Yes, I've been doing other things. I swim, I bike, I do core work, I walk (when my achilles allows). But none of these work up the heart rate, the sweat, or keep the pounds off like running does. None of them balance my mind like running does. None of them are enough.

I have an appointment with a sports medicine doctor on Thursday. I can't imagine he'll do anything that will get me running strong on Friday, so I'm only partially excited about seeing him. What I hope for is some answers on why this is such a nagging, frustrating issue, and what I can do to be able to run again.

I need my identity back.

Partially Tri-ing

Last Wednesday evening, as I was slowly warming up for a local 5k race, my left achilles seized up BAD and I had to stop. Could barely limp my way .7mi back to the start, and as I did, I felt a pop -- not a rupture pop, but a flick of a guitar string pop, like a ligament shifted across something.

Whatever it was, whatever the (still unknown) cause, I was beside myself. I had just gotten to a point where I thought I was on the almost-healed route. I drowned my frustrated, sorry ass in some beers with friends that night, and then saw the ART guy the next day. I was in pain, and I told him to take it easy on me. I really needed him to confirm what I thought -- that it wasn't a rupture, that it was something he could help me with. He did, and he did.

But I still couldn't run. I saw him again before the weekend, and he told me not to run until Monday. Since I could barely walk without a limp even 3 days after it seized up, I was resigned to this being what I had to do. However, I was supposed to do the only sprint triathlon I was registered for this summer on Saturday, and I was disappointed I wouldn't be able to run. I contemplated not doing it at all.

And then I realized that for me, the run is the easy part. It's always the swim and the bike that present the challenge for me in a tri. So I'll do those. I would start the race, and walk off the course after the bike.

I arrived at the Medford Lakes Triathlon relaxed and ready to go. It really stunk to set up my transition 1 stuff, and know that I wouldn't need anything for a T2, but I knew I was making the right decision. It is more important for me to baby my achilles now so that I can run for the rest of my life. I can sacrifice this race for that.

I ran into a teaching coworker who was doing her first tri, and helped her get situated. She was REALLY new at this -- and didn't know what to take to the swim start, how to set up her transition area, or even that she had to wear the swim cap she was given. I got her ready, wished her luck, and stepped into the water to await my wave start.

The water was warm, the lake looked calm, and I knew this would be a piece of cake. A 400 meter swim was nothing. I'm still a pretty weak swimmer in my own mind, so I positioned myself off the back and to the left, where I thought I'd get some clean water.

And then we started, and within the first two minutes, I was already frustrated. All the 39 and younger women, of all different levels and abilities. Grr. Man, I suck at this swimming-in-races thing. I had a million things racing in my head the whole time: move left, there's clean water! Breathe, dammit! This isn't that hard! Ack! move right now, this isn't clean anymore! Eww, shave your legs, lady! That stubble is scratching me up! Whoa! If you're gonna do backstroke, at least try to look where you're going! Breathe, Lora, you've done this before! Stop acting like you haven't! Wait! That guy's cute, but why is he treading water without his goggles on? Ok, almost done, swim it in and finish this thing! Remember to suck in your tummy as you get out -- you chose to swim with just your shorts and bra top today! Ok, there's the beach. Get to your bike, but remember, no running!

After a ridiculous effort, I finished the swim and had a long walk to my bike. This was a great course, but the transition was a really long, thin, area. I walked the whole thing, because I'm not running right now (double GRR!) and so I finally got to my bike and headed out.

The bike course (13ish miles) was a good one. Some good rolling hills, a nice area, and I got in a good groove. I was feeling VERY good about my bike (usually a weakness for me) and ended up with a great-for-me bike leg, averaging 18mph. As I got to the dismount area, I was disappointed that I would not be doing the run, but I held fast to my plan. I walked my bike to my rack, packed up my gear, and walked my bike out of transition and over to the finish line. A couple people commented, she's done already? and I had to tell them, no, I wasn't doing the run leg. :( I handed my chip in, watch the finish for a little bit, and headed home.

I'm glad I had the ability to do what was best for me, but man it stunk to not finish that race. It was a great course, and it seems they had a very successful first triathlon there. I'd go back next year, for sure.

And now, after more serious, sweating-inducing ART work the past few days, the achilles is slowly loosening up and I'm starting to run again. Partial running, that is -- walk some, run some, repeat.

Across America

Arriving in Minnesota, I quickly learned that this state was going to look just like I'd pictured. Lots of wide open sky, lakes, and paths for running/biking. My first time in this state, and I loved it right away.

Shawn and I went for a short run around Lake Calhoun, and I learned that no one lives more than 6 blocks from a park. How cool is that?

The lake was clear and people were swimming, and you could see downtown across the way.

After running the Urban Wildland Half Marathon with my friend Cindi, we had a BBQ at my hosts' house. Shawn and Brandy were very generous, inviting me to stay with them and showing me around the Twin Cities. Spending time with my friends Melissa and Sage just added to how great this stop on my trip across America would be. I got to see the Mississippi River for the first time, as well as the Colorado where the bridge collapsed several years ago, and see some of St. Paul, too.

We rented these cool bikes and rode all over the university and ballpark and city areas. I ended my fantastic time in Minnesota with a delicious local beer and a thick, rich malt. (My first one!)

Monday morning Shawn dropped me off to the airport and I made my way to Vegas.

After checking out the strip and checking into my terrific room at Bally's (right across from the Bellagio fountains!), I drove 40 minutes outside the city to the Hoover Dam.

It was amazing. So big and massive and filled with history. I walked around on my own a bit and then hopped into a short tour where I got to go inside the dam and see the inner workings.

After making my way back to the Strip, I went for a short run, got some dinner, and checked out all the ornate, illuminated, over-the-top things Vegas had to offer.

I saw an Elvis, Wonder Woman, Edward Scissorhands, Showgirls and more. I played some slots and won a few bucks. I went to bed psyched to have seen this part of America and excited for what my next leg of my trip would bring.

The drive through the Mojave Desert was awesome. Amazing. Incredible. The wide, open land, the ghost towns along the way, the landscape, the elevation changes. With a headcold raging, that last part wasn't so fun, but this drive was so cool. It's tough to put into words -- there is a magnificent simplicity to this part of our country.

I arrived in Santa Monica, the only familiar place on this trip, and breathed in the Pacific Ocean.I love it here, and this time I was going to get to visit with an old high school friend I'd lost touch with over the years. Thanks to Facebook we connected last year, and this would be the first I'd seen her in more than 15 years.

Laurie was the same and better. She was fun, she was more at peace, she was happy, and she still felt like my sister. We got dinner together all three nights I was there, and she got out of work early on the second day and we rode bikes all over -- from SM through Venice, to Marina Del Rey. I met her lovely wife, we laughed, we reminisced, we vowed never to lose touch again.
I spent my last day in California running along the beach, soaking in some sunshine, going for a long, leisurely bike ride, and breathing in all that this coast has. Then I met Laurie for dinner one last time.

As I boarded my red-eye for my flight home to the east coast, and giggled at Laurie's late text that said, simply, "Don't go!" I realized what an adventure this week had been. I saw new places, I did new things, I visited with good friends. I skipped across America, and loved it.

What a trip.

Minnesota was awesome. Lots of lakes and parks, a fun half marathon with Cindi, a great time catching up and spending time with Brandy and Shawn (thanks for the hospitality!), Sage and Melissa, biking all over town, good beer, and my first malt.

Vegas was awesome. Hot, over-the-top, big, bright. A 3 mile desert run, a tour of Hoover Dam, a little (very little) gambling. Light and water show at Bellagio, dinner on a porch right on the strip, Elvis, showgirls.

The drive from Vegas to LA was awesome. About 4 hours through the desert to the Santa Monica Freeway; it took my breath away. The vast, open, desert land was amazing. Mojave National Preserve, crazy elevation changes, pumping my own gas at a ghost town filling station.

And LA (specifically, Santa Monica) was awesome. I've been there before, and I love it there. Running for miles along the beach path, great weather, long bike rides, people-watching, celebrity sightings. This time, however, what made this trip so amazing was reconnecting with an old high school friend that I haven't seen in more than 15 years. We laughed, played, shared stories, and promised to never lose touch again.

This week was a.w.e.s.o.m.e. Pics to follow. Right now, I need some sleep.

Heading West

After some solid running this week (Tuesday was an 8 mile run with 4 miles at MP in the middle, and I did it!), I also had some miles that made me nervous -- my left achilles is still tightening up on me, so I saw a new doc today. He did some serious ART stuff on me which made me almost cry and then taped me up and gave me the go-ahead to run.

Good thing, 'cause tomorrow I fly to Minnesota to stay with friends and run the Urban Wildland Half Marathon this weekend! I'm not racing it - I'm just going to enjoy running in a state that I've never been to before. I'm going to tour around on Sunday, and then head to Vegas on Monday.

After a night in Vegas (what happens there, stays there!) I'm driving to LA. Woot! I love California. I'm staying in Santa Monica and hopefully visiting with a couple old friends. I may road trip a bit north or a bit south if I feel like it, too.

This is a week of seeing places I've never seen before (MN and Vegas), doing things I've never done (driving from Vegas to LA), and taking the days as they come. I'm going to run in all three states, I'm going to do touristy things, and I'm going to catch up with people I haven't seen in a long time.

And then, I'll fly home and really appreciate my last couple weeks of summer vacation.