One hour running

For the first time since August, I ran for one hour yesterday. It was awesome. It was COLD, but it was sunny and clear, and I ran with my sister. My leg is feeling better. I might even say it feels like it's getting stronger, and I haven't been wearing the calf sleeves. My fitness is still terrible (how?! I was swimming and biking?! AGH!), but the run felt good.

I love the one hour run... it's long enough for a solid workout, but short enough to not be too taxing. Long enough to enjoy the sunshine or whatever the weather is, short enough to not be something you have to prep for.

And after yesterday's one hour run, I had my first post-run chocolate milk in what seems like forever. Yum.

On a side note, I saw this license plate the other night:

Interesting. I rarely seem to have this problem.

Giving (Running) Thanks

2010 has been a tough year. Probably the toughest of my life so far. But today, I was thankful that I'm still standing -- beaten up a bit, but standing. And I was thankful to spend the day with my family. I miss my grandmom, but we did ok today.


And, inspired by Cindi's post, I thought about what running has brought me in 2010, and how I'm thankful for it. So here's my 10 Running Things I'm Thankful for in 2010:


1) That even on my worst of days, my running allowed me some peace.

2) The effect my running has on my body is paramount. When I'm running, I feel better in my own skin. Being away from running for almost 2 months was beyond difficult. My body is uncomfortable right now, and I can't wait for the return to running to slim me back down to comfortable.

3) The connection my running gives me to my town. Working a part-time job at the local running store allows me to feel like I'm, in a small way, a part of this community. I like that.

4) My running (and my sister's) serves something of a positive role model to my little nephews. They ask about races, they ask about how my (our) run went, they ask about my calf, they know this is a big part of who I am.

5) The opportunity to finally meet Cindi in May in Champaign, IL. After all this time talking virtually, it was wonderful to finally meet her in person.

6) The ability to skip across the country and have people to spend time with along the way. I travelled to Minnesota this summer and ran a half marathon with people I would never have met without my running. Two friends opened their home to me for the whole long weekend and treated me like one of their own.

7) The opportunity to run in places all over this country. This year alone, I've run in Pennsylvania, Illinois, Minnesota, Las Vegas, California, Washington DC (sort of), and home: NJ -- both here outside Philly and along the coast.

8) Friends. Though I lost a couple friends earlier this year, the rest of the people I've become friends with working at the store have continued to be there. We don't spend as much time together as I did with my close group last winter, but they're still here.

9) Adventure. I've run in 20" of snow. I've run in snowstorms where my eyebrows end up making me look like Old Man Winter. I've run in pouring rain and giggled as people in cars drove by staring in wonder. I've run in the 103* heat of the desert. I've run along the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean within 24 hours of each other. I've run in a Mud Run, and I've run in a tri(du)athlon.

10) Through my running relationships, I've learned a lot about people this year. Some really good, some really terrible things to have to learn. I learned lessons that will carry with me for a long, long time. I learned these lessons because of my running, and the relationships I've formed because of and through it.



Wait, I have an 11) Sense of self. Running is part of the definition of me, of who I am. It was a struggle to lose that for a while, and I'm still working to get it back. As a runner, I feel like I have a focus -- and in my crazy life, that is sustaining.

Back to the Sleeves

This past week my calf was feeling weak again. I'm not sure why -- and it's part of what has been making me nervous. I don't want to keep worrying if I'll ever regain solid strength in my leg, but I'm reminded of just how much my muscles were broken down with the Graston work.

I took the picture above to show the sleeves I'm wearing again to help my calf feel supported as it continues to heal. But if you look closely, you can see what I've seen for months now. Look at my left leg. Now look at my right. See the sharp definition of my calf muscle on the right? On the inside of my leg? Now look at the left. See how the definition isn't as sharp? There's a little bump under the calf muscle. It's been like this since the Graston work.

I'm afraid it'll be like that forever.

My calf muscles were something that stood out about me. Big legs. Defined muscles. I've joked about how my legs look a bit much in heels with that definition, but truly, I've liked having them. Now I'm sad they aren't the same. I'm worried that left calf will never be the same.

I need to be disciplined in my strengthening exercises. I'll use the sleeves for a bit to help with some support while I'm running. And I hope all of this continued healing gets my definition back.

To be or not to be...

...nervous, that is...

My running has been improving. My running fitness is shot -- mainly because of the time off, partly because of a sinus thing I've been dealing with --but my running is improving. I'm slowing increasing my mileage, and I'm not running more than 3 days in a row at a time. I'm not sure if I'm being too conservative with my mileage, I'm fairly certain I'm not being too aggressive, but I think I'm somewhere in the middle.

And yet, at any given moment, one or more of the following thoughts are going through my mind:
my leg's going to tighten up again
nope, you went through all that pain of the Graston to fix it
but it's still weak
but the running and the exercises will strengthen it
but what if it doesn't ever get back to it's true strength
but why wouldn't it
I don't want to push it because I don't want it to tighten up again
it won't
it might
i really hope it doesn't
maybe I need to push beyond what I think is safe
maybe I'm doing it right
what if it tightens up again
maybe it won't
I hope it won't

and so it goes. All the time.

I think I'm doing ok, but I haven't ever dealt with an injury like this. I almost wish I could get another MRI that could show me that the muscles are healed, so that I have a stronger sense that it's going to be ok.

But in the absence of that, I have to just believe that because I've done everything all the doctors have told me, it will be fine. My leg will continue to get stronger, my fitness will improve, and I won't have to be nervous.

Car vs. Deer

Like I needed something else to add to the F'd up year 2010 has been, a gigantic buck decided to jump in front of my car on my way home from my sister's on Tuesday evening. Now, if I lived in a particulary rural area, or if I were on a long stretch of uninhabited road, this might not seem all that unusual. But I don't, and I wasn't. I was driving through a very residental area when it happened. 6:30 pm, and because of the time change, it was already dark out. There is a small park area nearby, but this deer came out of someone's yard and attempted to cross the street just as I was passing by. It happened so fast, I barely had time to react.

Even as I slammed on my brakes, I knew the deer would be hit. Most of the hit was on the front right turn-signal area of the car, but the size of the buck -- it had antlers! -- meant that the entire front of my car would sustain damage. I watched as the deer rebounded off my grill, slid across the road, and then miraculously hopped up and, though you could tell it's hind left leg was injured, ran back into the neighborhood, closer to the wooded area.

Heart pounding out of my chest, I put on my hazzards and just sat there. Another motorist who saw the whole thing happen (it was near an intersection) pulled over to see if I was ok. Since I was unhurt, he gave me his card and went on his way. I called the police and within minutes they were there. 3 of them. Must've been a slow night.

I told them what happened, they wrote the report, and I headed home. The car was driveable, but pretty banged up. I wouldn't even know until the next morning, in the daylight, just how much damage was done.

These pictures barely show the full situation. There are 4 cracks in the grill, hood bent, brackets broken inside the grill and under the hood, lights broken, the wheel well disjointed, and more.

So now I'm in the process of getting the estimates, repair work, rental car, and insurance stuff taken care of. I've driven around that area twice to see if I could see a huge, injured deer. Nothing so far, so I hope he's healing and not suffering.

Busy Week

Oof -- what a busy, busy week. I finished physical therapy on Tuesday, had parent conferences M/T/W, off from work but headed to the shore Thursday, worked all day at the running store on Friday and Saturday, and worked the water stop at the Cooper Norcross 10k Bridge Run this morning. The latter part of the week was all good -- I haven't been to the shore in a bunch of weeks and the running store was really, really busy as race central. But I'm still not sleeping much, and now I'm beat.

My running's been good -- I worked up to a consecutive 3 miles, and I'll do that a few times over the next week or so before I pop it up some more. I need to force myself to continue to do the leg strengthening exercises I learned at PT, but so far the calf is feeling ok. Whew.

Today's race is one that our store is heavily involved with. In addition to registration, packet pick-up, and acting as race central, we are also responsible for the water stop near the 5 mile mark. Every year we layer up, grab coffee (I bring bagels for everyone, too), and our H2O shirts (and one chicken costume),

and get set up for nearly 4000 runners.

It's cold, it's early, and it's work, but it's fun -- even at the end of a very busy week.

Back to MCM

My mom, sister and I travelled to Washington, DC this weekend for the Marine Corps Marathon. I didn't run it. My sister did.

I loved this race in 2008. I didn't race it -- I ran it slowly with a friend to simply enjoy the day, so I don't consider this one when I talk about trying to break that 4 hour mark. For me, MCM wasn't about my time.

This year, I registered for MCM when my sister said she wanted to run it. Then my leg got all pissy and I transfered my bib to a customer at the running store. I knew I'd travel to DC to support and cheer on my sister, but I also knew that would be tough.

After a slightly uncomfortable train ride and a trip to the expo, we eventually walked our way from our hotel room, across the Key Bridge, into Georgetown, to a restaurant called Clyde's. The food was fantastic, and the glass of wine I had was greatly needed. I was so disappointed to not be running! To make up for it, I ate a ton of delicious food and almost licked the last drop of wine out of my glass. We marvelled at that evening's sunset, and went to bed early.

After much tossing and turning -- both for the mental frustrations of the weekend AND the roll-away mattress that felt like a box-spring -- I awoke, dressed, and we headed out. My back was hurting, and my feet would hurt by the end of the day, but at least it would be a crisp, sunny, fall day to enjoy being outside.

The weather was perfect (of course). Cool at the start (about 48*) and only heading up to about 58* by the finish. Sunny, clear skies. Perfect. Something I can't seem to ever experience.

We walked to the start and had plenty of time to kill. (We weren't sure how long of a walk it would be.) Eventually, though, the corrals filled and we wished A luck and made our way to the hilltop to watch the thousands of runners await the start.

I got teary as the cannon signaled the runners to begin their journey. This was so hard to watch and not be a part of! I wanted my sister to have a good day, but I was depressed that I couldn't take advantage of great weather at a marathon for a change. I wiped the tears, clapped my hands, and tried not to be so focused on what I can't seem to do.

My mom and I walked over the Arlington Cemetery Bridge and took in the sights, and then planted ourselves to await the runners.

We found my sister around the 10 mile mark and again at 16, and both times she looked good. And despite finding ourselves at the perfect spot on the hill up to the finish at the Iwo Jima memorial, we missed her.

Grr. While we were now, at the 4:10 mark, thinking she was having a rough day and hadn't finished yet, she was weaving her way through the finish area, over to the beer garden and the free phones. My cell rang, and it was her. "Where are you? What time did you finish?" I asked.

"3:51 something," she replied. "Meet me at the beer garden."

My mom and I were frustrated that we never saw her at the finish. We were right there! But now we had to make our way through the monster crowds to find her. As we did, I took it all in -- the memories of my day there, the frustrations of my own 26.2 races, the great luck my sister seems to have with her races (the weather, a better finish at this MCM, etc), the second sub-4 marathon she's run, my recent return to running and hoping my leg continues to get and stay strong. All of it.

This was a difficult weekend -- physically and emotionally. It was nice to spend time with my mom and sister, and I am happy for my sister that she had a good day. Somehow she fits it all in and has great success. But I was drained by Sunday afternoon. It was a tough return to the Marine Corps Marathon. I couldn't wait to get home.