I've had a few races since my last post several months ago. I haven't trained like I did a year ago. My diet hasn't been nearly as strict. I've had no business thinking I would do anything but finish these races. Truthfully, I went in with the mind set that I just was going to pace myself, run intervals, and not kill my achilles. It's funny how adrenaline and competitiveness can take you to unknown (and unimagined) places during a race.
On March 25, 2012, I ran the Shamrock Shuffle in Chicago. I went with my cousins Jake and Carrie. I had so much fun at that race last year that I wanted to do it again. I had no expectation other than finishing. We had a great time in Chicago the day before the race and just relaxed and had fun. We laid out our clothes the night before, made fun of Jake who had made a Shamrock Shuffle play list and had a special outfit planned, and just relaxed. The morning of the race I was much more low key than I had been last year. I also didn't make the mistake of drinking too much water --- figuring I would have to wait an ungodly amount of time in the start corral. We made plans to meet at the Fountain after the race. I told them I would be the slowest one of the bunch.
I wore KTape instead of my brace --- mistake number one. It is great stuff but just not as supportive. I wore my Michigan Sucks t-shirt instead of the Michigan clothing I had to wear as a result of the best last year. I didn't want to hurt myself. Truly I didn't. But a fire was lit in me for some unknown reason and I pushed myself in a way that I had never done before. I looked at my watch after crossing the finish line and couldn't believe it. I figured something had to be wrong. Had I missed a few miles? Then the pain started to set in --- I hadn't missed any part of that course. My achilles was throbbing and I could barely walk. I was ecstatic, though, about my unofficial time. I ad to stay in Chicago that night for work and was having dinner with friends. During dinner Carrie sent me a message with my official time. I couldn't believe it. I got back to the hotel and had to see it with my own eye.
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This was unheard of for me. Truly. More than I EVER expected. I paid the price, though. I'm still paying the price.
A few weeks later I went to Los Angles. The Hollywood Half Marathon turned into the lower mileage race. I ran with a friend and we stuck to run/walk intervals. I iced thoroughly for several hours after. I took a ton of Advil. I needed to take a month off according to doctors. I ran one time during that month --- but I was kind of justified. I went to Madison, with college friends, for the Crazylegs Classic. The 5 mile race ends on the filed at Camp Randall; that is one of my most favorite places. I stuck to intervals. I stretched. I didn't push myself hard. Truly, I didn't. I ran in the rain and it was cold. I felt sore but not nearly as bad as the races before that.
This past weekend I went to Chicago, again, for the Soldier Field Ten Mile Race. I had no expectation because the prior weekend, without doing any type of exercise, I had the most excruciating ankle pains I had in nearly a year. I spent the weekend "on ice" and knew that walking, much less running, was going to be tough. I went to Chicago, though, for a variety of reasons. My cousin Jake came and ended up using the bib of one of my injured friends.
The week prior to the race was one of the worst I'd had in a long time. Unexpected twists and turns and situations I never imagined. I was ornery, overtired, not feeling great. I likely wasn't much fun to be around. I'll admit that. Little things that I would normally let slide by were pissing me off in a big way. I felt hurt and let down by other circumstances and that wasn't adding to my being real happy.
The morning of the race was even worse. I didn't sleep well and was dealing with work emails all night. We had to leave the hotel at 6 am to get to the start line. The initial cab driver asked us if we knew how to direct him to Soldier Field (no, I am not making this up --- it was his first day on the job). Instead of being hot and humid it was cold and rainy. I was by myself in the start corral and the race was starting slowly. I had stretched well and I had taken Advil. I was wearing my brace. I told myself I was going to run intervals and told Jake to expect that it would take me about 2 to 2.25 hours. I didn't want to push myself and hurt myself more. Then my anger kicked it and my general pissiness from the week before. That turned on the adrenaline --- which obviously masked the pain. Lets just say that the intervals didn't happen. Suddenly I wanted to prove that I could do this and do it well.
I had a sense around 5 miles that I was kicking ass. I didn't look at my watch because I knew if I did that I would stop myself. Around mile 9 the pain started to get more intense. I tried to ignore it and run though it, focus on the music and putting together that race I wanted to in Toronto last year. I was in the tunnel at Solider Field --- about to cross the finish line on the 50 yard line. I glanced at my watch. HOLY SHIT! It had to be wrong, I thought.
I crossed the finish line. I couldn't believe it. I hobbled to get my medal, a banana, some water, and find Jake --- who likely figured that he had time to kill. I was in pain and cramping. I had done it to myself. I am an adult and accept the consequences of my actions --- but had I seriously run the race that I did? My unofficial time was astounding to me.
The walk back to the hotel was necessary, but sucked. I knew I had to walk through the cramps. We got back to the hotel and I spent a lot of time stretching and icing. The train ride home --- the sitting without moving --- didn't help but I had to get home. I was tempted to check the web page and get my official time but things got crazy once I got home. My niece was born, I was watching my other niece (the 3 year old), I was trying to ice and stretch.
This morning I was curious. I checked the web site. My official time was even faster than I had thought.
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I truly don't think I could string these two races together again --- EVER. As I sit here, with my ankle on ice and a constant stream of Advil throughout the day I can say that the pain sucks but part of me needed those times to prove to myself what I am capable of. Sure, I likely damaged my ability to ever run races like that again but I do have the memories. I'm an adult and I accept the consequences of the stupid things I've done. But I also think that had I not given it 110% that I may have always questioned if I could.
Since I hurt my ankle last year I've generally always held back; I've let fear conquer me. So this year --- without all of the training, nutrition, etc. I let go of the fear and look what happened? No one can ever tell me that I'm not an athlete (or wasn't an athlete). But why now? Why did it happen without the group of people that I had been running with the last year or so? Part of these results didn't feel as "real" without them there --- even though Jake and Carrie can attest to them.
What am I trying to say? I honestly don't know. This blog used to be more of an outlet --- a way to decompress, a reality check, a way to stay true to me. Now, that I won't (or shouldn't) be able to run for a while what is this blog going to be? What is my life going to be like without these things? Will I still be connected to some of my friend and the friendships that have developed without running? Will I feel as good about myself or that I am accomplishing as much? I guess I'll have to find out.
