Day 50: It's the final countdown

That song is in your head now, isn't it?  You're welcome.  

The Shamrock Marathon is four days away.  That's not even a whole hand to count with.  The race week jitters are in full effect...I'm washing my hands, drinking water, and checking the weather forecast with obsessive compulsion.  Emails and Facebook posts by J&A Racing and other Shamrockers give me chills.  I've been nauseous most of the week, which is either the manifestation of pure dread, or just rot gut from the plethora of pills I've been popping.

I've been spending some time on Pinterest each night, reading any and every article related to surviving your first marathon.  I got my hands on a copy of the running documentary, "Spirit of the Marathon," which I plan to watch sometime between now and Sunday.  I'll be going to listen to running legend Bart Yasso speak at the Shamrock expo Friday night, ready to absorb every word he says.  I'm in Psych Yourself Up Mode, and this is where you come in.

I've mentioned a few times that I feel so many similarities between training for a marathon and preparing for the birth of a child.  There's excitement, of course, and there's nervousness, anxiety, and the feeling of "Oh my God, how am I going to do this???"  When you're having a baby, your family and friends throw you a shower to celebrate how far you've come.  And quite often, they give you advice on how to get through the home stretch and beyond.  So I've decided to throw myself a little virtual shower of sorts, and you're all invited.  There will be no crustless finger sandwiches, boozeless punch, or gift registries (although if you'd like to buy me some new running gear, I certainly won't stop you!).  All I ask is that you leave a few words of advice and/or encouragement to help me get to that finish line.  Share an experience, words of wisdom, or just a funny meme that will make me laugh.  Basically, anything that will keep me from going off the rails on this crazy train.  

And if you have any desire at all to come out on Sunday and be a spectator, click on this link for all of the race info, including a course map.  

Day 49: Sunshine she's here, you can take a break

I sit here this morning, one week away from the Shamrock Marathon.  Yesterday was the first Saturday in who knows how long that I didn't run.  I watched Ryan from the window as he warmed up and started off on his last long run before the race, feeling like the sick kid watching all of her neighborhood friends play outside.  I wanted to run so badly, but I've made the decision to rest my leg until the race and I'm going to have to stick to it.  

I have been struggling to figure out how my training had gone so smoothly for so long, only to have the bottom drop out two weeks before the race.  It's been frustrating as hell.  The timing of this setback with my leg has really messed with my head.  It's been a time of soul searching, and the following quote has given me perspective:



A year ago, I had no desire to run a marathon.  They're for crazy people, and like the cheesy t-shirts and memes say, I was only half crazy.  




But somehow over the next few months, Ryan and I convinced ourselves that we had to do a full at some point in our lives.  We thought about doing one to celebrate our 40th birthdays, but we have several more years before that milestone (thank you very much!), and life has taught us that a lot can happen in just a few years' time, so the time to do it was now.  So we signed up for the Shamrock Marathon sometime last summer, with March 16th being an eternity away, merrily oblivious to the circumstances we'd be training through.

In late October, Ryan's mom was diagnosed with advanced cancer of the liver.  We've spent the past four months since then helping his dad care for her and making sure she was surrounded by the grandkids she adored as much as possible in her final days.  We watched this ray of light of a woman suffer immensely, smile through her pain, and comfort those around her, week in and week out.  

Peggy's suffering ended when she passed away on Wednesday, and the days since have been a whirlwind.  Convincing myself that everything happens for a reason has led me to the following conclusions:

- The timing of my injury was good, not bad.  As my runner friends have told me, I've put in the hard work and this is the time to let my body rest.  

- Not being able to get treatment on Friday because my therapist was sick was good, not bad.  With my mother-in-law's wake being Friday night, I simply did not have enough minutes in the day to have needles stuck in my butt, and all the sitting in the car and standing at the wake I'd be doing would have been counterproductive to treatment anyway.

- The timing of Peggy's death was good, not bad.  If she hung on for another week, we would have been running this race the day after her funeral.  She has been our biggest cheerleader through our training, and even in death, she was setting us up for success.  

I thought of Peggy during literally every single training run.  I told myself that if she can go through what she's going through with a smile on her face, I can certainly push through this next 800 into the wind.  I can certainly push through a dozen miles in the snow.  I can certainly push through 20 miles on a beautiful day.  These self-inflicted challenges are a walk in the park compared to her battle, and I will be grateful I am alive and well enough to take them on.  They are nothing compared to seeing my husband lose his mother.  Nothing compared to telling my children their Grandmommy died.  Nothing compared to feeling my 7 year old's little body shake with sobs at her grandmother's funeral.  Nothing compared to the heartbreak my father-in-law is living with after losing his best friend and dance partner.  

I have Peggy to thank for so much of the happiness I have in my life.  Her son brings sunshine into my life every single day, and it radiates right down to my children, who share Peggy's bright blue eyes and infectious smile.  I'm sure a 5-foot liberal-minded Yankee isn't who she would have chosen for her son to marry, but she welcomed me into her family and her heart immediately.  When introducing me to others, she'd say I was her daughter, never her daughter-in-law, sometimes even in front of my own mother!  She spoiled my children rotten with cheddar bunnies, trips to the aquarium, and birthday celebrations that made Santa feel the need to step up his game.  My heart breaks to think about the void we'll all feel going forward, but we'll just keep going forward.  

During our many visits with Peggy over the past few months, I would always massage her feet.  At first it was to help get rid of the edema she had, and later on it was simply because it was one of the few things being done to her body that actually felt good.  She would tell me she could feel her numb, ice cold feet come alive when I rubbed them, and that it felt like heaven.  Ryan was with her when she died, and minutes before he called me with the news, my feet were ice cold and both of my big toes felt numb.  Coincidence?  Who knows.  But it has me wondering what could happen on race day to show me she's cheering me on.  

Day 48: The elephant in the room

Twice I've attempted to write a particular post, but the words have not been coming together.  Perhaps they'll come to me as we go through the weekend.  So for now, instead of writing about the elephant in the room, I'll take the easy road and write about running.

But this isn't easy to write about either.  Today has been mentally the toughest day of these last 15 weeks of training.  As I've mentioned before, so much of the preparation for the marathon is mental.  I started this journey wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.  That turned into "I'm not sure how, but maybe I can do this."  And later it became "Wow, I really think I can do this!"  And less than two weeks ago it was "I am going to do this and do this well!"  Incredible how each passing week was like a step higher on the ladder of my self-confidence.  

Even being thrown the curveball of this IT band issue hadn't knocked me down too many rungs...until today.  Today was the first day that the bastard known as Doubt crept into my mind.  Today was the first day I thought "I'm not sure if I can do this."  I am trying to gather every iota of positive thinking and open up a can of whoop ass on Doubt, but it's been tough.  

Today I ran for the first time since Saturday's painful 6 miles.  I sweet talked my ITB on the way to the rec center.  I warmed him up slowly and gently for 5 minutes on the bike before stretching him and his posse for 10 minutes before even going near the treadmill.  I barely ran, but instead trotted so as not to anger the beast.  I crossed my fingers and mumbled "please don't hurt" several times before I hit quick start.  

I got to a quarter mile pain free and smiled.  I got to a half mile pain free and clenched my fist with a silent "yesssss."  At 1 mile, I planned to stop and stretch, and at 1 mile, some tightness was starting to set in.  But it wasn't pain, so I felt ok with that.  

After some stretching, I was back at it.  The stretching was like a reset button, and the tightness was gone when I started my second mile.  Another half mile pain free.  Awesome.  But this time, the tightness was creeping in after 3/4 mile.  Noooooo.  I stuck to my plan, finished the second mile, and stretched again.  And again, the reset button was hit and the tightness was gone as I started mile 3.  This time, the tightness returned by the 1/2 mile mark, and I decided to stop then and stretch instead of pushing through to the full mile.  Reset.  RESET, dammit!!!  Hopped back on to finish the third mile, and the tightness finally gave way to discomfort.  I fought back tears and finished my pathetic attempt at some quality miles with some more stretching.  I hit the foam roller when I got home, where the flood gates opened after Ryan asked how it went.  I iced after I foam rolled and distracted myself with a surprise lunch date at Brynn's school.  

There was another blow to my plans of improvement after I called the physical therapy clinic to see when I could get in tomorrow.  My guy was out sick today, so they were unsure if he'd be there tomorrow or not.  Come on, universe!!!  Even if he's back at work tomorrow, do I really take the chance to be in a 5 x 7 room with someone who was just sick???  The thought of getting sick on top of this is enough to...well, make me sick.  

So I will go to bed tonight not knowing what the heck I'm going to do with myself tomorrow.  I will enjoy the company of my children and be thankful for the comedic relief they provide me every single day.  Not so sure Doubt can take on all of us.  

Day 47: Put the needle on the record

Today's task:  Turn my frown upside down

Today's outcome:  :)

Yesterday sucked.  My knee hurt and I was just plain sad all day.  It's like I've been riding this hot air balloon of excitement as we get closer to race day, and this knee pain is slowly letting the air out.  But this morning, I got a blast of hot air back in my balloon.  

I was able to get in to see the physical therapist I used to work with (thank you, Uncle and Meghan for keeping my kids so I could focus on me this morning!), and based on his findings of tight and tender muscles in my left hip (which in turn could be causing issues down at the knee), he suggested I try a technique called dry needling.  In a nutshell, a fine needle, much like those used in accupuncture, is inserted directly into the affected muscle tissue, and the physical therapist manipulates it to elicit a twitch from the muscle.  This twitch can deactivate the trigger point and release the "knot" in the muscle tissue.  I stumbled across this graphic that showed pretty much exactly where I had my treatment done:

The picture below isn't me, but the treatment went something like this:

I'll admit I was nervous about the treatment at first, but not for obvious reasons.  The needle thing doesn't bother me.  The muscle twitch doesn't bother me (it felt a lot like e-stim).  It was just the fact that I was trying something new and totally different less than two weeks before the biggest race of my life.  I put my faith in Rob and allowed him to make me his human pin cushion.  We finished up the treatment with a little massage (the digging kind, not the oooooh that's lovely kind) and a patch that delivers an anti-inflammatory right to the painful spot:

I left the clinic feeling sore, yet optimistic.  I have zero expectations of being 100% pain free from start to finish of this race, but I am merely hoping I do not have to hobble through most of it.  I now have an entire team of people working to keep me Psimas Pstrong, and I am eternally grateful for them all.  And if someone wants to show up on the race course with this sign, I'll love you forever, too:

Amazing.  And since my sense of humor has returned for the moment, I'll leave you with this:

Day 46: Some kind of maaaadness

Today's task:  SURVIVE

Today's outcome:  TBD

I went to bed last night knowing that my original plan for this week's workouts was balled up in the trash.  With Winter Storm Titan bearing down on us, I knew I would have to be flexible with my workout plans.  Being flexible is not something I'm very good at right at this very moment.  It seems as though in addition to being off-the-charts frustrated by this nagging knee, I'm experiencing a phenomenon known to runners that is affectionately called "Taper Madness."  Here's a handy dandy chart to help you determine whether you're afflicted as well:

I thought this post by Sara at "Running from the Law" was incredibly relatable and summed up the madness quite nicely as well.  I am experiencing a hypersensitivity much like one has during the last few weeks of pregnancy (there I go again, comparing this training to being pregnant!).  Anything that merely irked me before is likely to send me into a fit of rage (ie, kids asking me to do things for them that they are highly capable of doing themselves, drivers in front of me staying behind the white line when waiting to make a left turn,  I could go on and on).  I am likely to get choked up about songs that come on the radio - happy, sad, or otherwise.  The people I come in contact with might be a little safer if I could wear a t-shirt with this graphic for the next 13 days:

Cranky...check!

Irrational...check!!

Moody...CHECK!!!

Now that you're aware of my declining mental state, we'll move on to my physical state, which does not appear to be much better right now.  After a 5:20am phone call informing me schools were closed today, I got up and started my day with a pain-free leg workout.  Firing up my quads, glutes, and hammies felt great, and I skipped the back portion of the workout so I'd have time to stretch, foam roll, and ice before my nephew arrived for the day.  Off to a good start.

With the kids out of school, the fridge out of milk, and the car out of gas, I loaded up the rugrats to go load up on essentials.  What was supposed to be an easy trip to Walmart with one child, who is easily appeased by goldfish crackers, ended up being this:

At least they're cute.  And we have food now.  

But my knee was yelling at me by the time I got home, which is extremely discouraging.  There was no way I was going to beg my former co-workers for a favor with these three stooges in tow, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow when I'll just have Camryn.  I started a new anti-inflammatory today and I'm still waiting for it to show me some kind of sign that it's working.  I got the rest part of my treatment plan in the form of an hour long nap with this sleeping beauty:

She sensed I was feeling down and came to snuggle with me.  Best nap ever.  This never would have happened if it were just a regular old Monday afternoon, but it was a snow day, so anything goes.  There's my something positive for today.  That and the tacos I'm about to cook for dinner.  

Day 45: Sometimes love don't feel like it should

Today's task:  Love on that ITB

I am one lucky girl.  I had not one, but TWO runners/athletic trainers on the phone last night, talking me down from the proverbial ledge about the little hiccup to my training that is my temporarily defunct IT band.  They suggested the course of treatment, which I imagine will start off sounding something like this:   

"Oh hey, PTs I used to work with!  How about I trade you these donuts and coffee for some ultrasound and soft tissue work?"

They reminded me that I'm in the taper phase of training, and all of the grunt work is behind me.  I've built myself up by breaking myself down, and I've proven I can get through 20 miles.  This is a time of rest and recovery, and I need to do just that.  I need not concern myself with the speed work on my training plan for the next two weeks.  Whatever pain-free miles I can get in will just have to suffice, and 

It was a gorgeous day outside today - the warm before the storm, as we've come to know it here in Virginia Beach this winter - and we spent most of it outside.  My midday stretch/foam roll/ice session was done in the sunshine, out on the deck with an adorable little yogi beside me:

  

I was listening to 80s Cardio Radio on Pandora while working on some Fancy before I started stretching, and each song was better than the last (Jenny 867-5309, Jesse's Girl, Take on Me, you get the idea).  The radio gods must have a wicked sense of humor, because "Hurt So Good" came on when I was beating myself up with the foam roller.  After another round of ice cups (not to be confused with flip cups, which I would have preferred on such a gorgeous day), this thing somehow found itself in my hand:

Since I only did half the mileage yesterday, I only get half the cannoli.  But like I always say, half a cannoli is better than no cannoli at all.

I finished up the night with another self treatment, along with a little bit of torture, aka watching the Weather Channel and learning more about the winter weather headed our way.  

I'm not amused, Mother Nature.

I'm so grateful for the advice and encouragement I received from Jocelyn and Megan last night, especially since they took time away from dipping things in cheese and chocolate to discuss my issues with me.  I am fighting to remain optimistic that I'll be in better shape two weeks from today (YIKES!!!), and that I won't need the racehorse treatment from Camryn:

Day 44: Help! I need somebody!

Today's task:  13 miles @8:13 min/mile pace

Today's weather:  39 degrees, breezy

Today's outcome:  6 miles in 46:58 (7:42 min/mile pace)

If we only look at today's outcome, one might say I had a great run.  All things considered, I will say it was decent, as I am at a point in my training where negative thoughts need to be pushed aside quickly.  

I was nervous all morning just thinking about today's run.  And I was irritated because it was pretty cold and I'm just tired of it being cold.  I really wanted to run those 13 miles today.  My IT band apparently did not.  Despite my extra time stretching and a quick foam rolling session before heading out, that stabbing pain was back in full force by mile 2.  I was hoping that with each passing mile it would have settled in and just chilled the F out, but that didn't happen.  And although it didn't feel much worse by the time I finished 6 miles, I do worry about what will happen trying to run 26.2.  And I worry about how I'm going to get through five more workouts before the race.  And I worry that I'm worrying too much.  

So I sent an SOS message to Jocelyn, my kick ass marathoner/athletic trainer friend, for advice.  It started a little something like this:

"JOCELYN!!!  HELLLLLLLLP!!!"

I missed her call, and when I called her back, I was lucky enough to get two runners/trainers for the price of one, as Jocelyn was out to dinner with our fellow Bomber Megan.  

They promised to brainstorm over fondue and get back to me with a plan tomorrow.  I'm nervous but excited to hear what they come up with, and until I have the plan, I'll continue with this:

And this:

And this:

And of course more ice, which has become a surprisingly enjoyable past time for me lately.  February is over and done with, and it's time to welcome March and all its Madness with open arms.  I can forsee my mental and emotional strength being tested this month, so I hope the whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb" saying has some truth to it for me.