Without a Race in Mind

Tucked into our warm home as the new year started, I dreamed of running and race possibilities for 2022. I spread out a paper calendar on the dining room table and penciled in potential races and added in the family and racing calendars. What to do? What to run? Where to run? Thankfully there are so many options to choose from now but impossibly, I cannot run every race. I always build around what sounds fun to me- a new challenge, a new race format, a new terrain, a new distance, etc. I rarely run the same race twice and when I do, I’m running a different distance than the time before. 

In discussing my plans for the year with a friend, I thought for certain I would be heading back to tick off the Superior 50 miler when she challenged me to consider going for the 100 mile instead. I fought back, saying that was not a part of the overall plan. Superior 100 is way later on my made up list of what 100’s I run in what order. She laughed and said I was cute when I was riled up. She never took her challenge back and just left it there for me. 

I picked up the idea, turned it over a few times, set it down and walked away. Absurd. My list is made up but it isn’t haphazard. It’s carefully built. I came back to the idea, examined it a bit closer, carried it with me for a while, then set it down and walked away again. My list is written on a 3x5 notecard I created years ago when I was considering running my first 50 mile race. It still seemed legitimate. I was not wrong about the information on it. Each race builds from one distance and amount of elevation gain to the next with increasing difficulty. But what I was starting to realize was that I was my own limiting factor, not the elevation gain per mile. This was a different idea and wasn’t going to fit on any index card.

For the longest time I thought it was external things holding me back but those were no longer true. I have physical and mental proof that I’ve met new distances, new elevation gains, and new terrains all with success. Running Superior 100 is no longer out of order for the runner I am now. 

I was prepared to have a full discussion with Bill about this idea when we both got sick. Bill spent a week wrapped in blankets in bed and I spent the nights on the couch. I didn’t have energy to do much, let alone think through a race 9 months away. The Superior lottery registration slipped away and I fell asleep trusting there would be other adventures waiting for me this year.

Once I felt well enough to get a few miles in, I, was ready to explore the possibilities once again but nothing was rising to the top. I cleaned up the calendars and race schedules. This wasn’t going to be solved in a weekend. 

So now I find myself in territory I haven’t been in in a long time- running without a race in mind. Not being bound to any races has a couple of effects. For one, I feel adrift. I don’t know what I’m doing or how I should run and it feels unstable. The other is that I have a chance to let my return to running build slowly and more in tune with the rhythms of my life.

Yet, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been here before- restarting and rebuilding. But this time I’m adding believing in myself. 

Mines of Spain 100 Mile Recovery

After completing the Mines of Spain 100, my body was a little bit of a wreck. Undoubtedly I was tired and I wished for a small but steady stream of food to trickle into my mouth plus every muscle ached.

I napped and ate my way through the week. And as for my aches and pains, I was doing every trick I knew- sports creams, self-massages, pain shakes loaded with anti-inflammatory fruits and vegetables. I kept away from my foam rollers and anything aggressive. Recovery was about rest and gentle, active recovery.

I was walking almost normally around the house within 3 or 4 days and really wanted to stretch my legs bit more. In our neighborhood, we have a small loop about .6 of a mile- a far cry from 100 miles- and I felt certain I would be able to walk it with Kaci. I put on my shoes and we headed out. There were a few niggles and tight spots but almost everything was feeling pretty good but as we rounded the last couple blocks, my Achilles tendons started hurting. They had hurt during my race, though I ignored the pain as there was nothing I could do to fix them and it wouldn’t prevent from me finishing. However during Kaci’s and my walk, the pain was increasingly unpleasant and eventually I took off both my shoes and socks and we walked the last few blocks home barefoot. I tried several different shoes but could only walk wearing Birkenstock sandals.

Kaci waiting for me to get up from another nap

When nothing had improved after three weeks, I reached out to my friend and physical therapist to set up an appointment to figure this heel thing out. I didn’t miss running per se, but I did miss having the option to run. I also knew the enforced rest was not a bad thing. I had just had a fairly monumental training and racing season and I often rush back to hard training little too soon. Plus, I wanted to wear normal shoes soon. Winter was coming and while I was fine with the Birks and thick socks look (thanks kids for always resurrecting fashion trends), socks and sandals were not weather resistant.

PT IronAnne (she completed her second full Ironman in September) examined me and determined I had Achilles tendonitis. Essentially my Achilles were aggravated and swollen from extreme use. I spent hours in her office stretching, balancing, and strengthening my feet, heels and calves. At the end of the sessions she would massaged the tendons and muscles and then secure these giant positive/negative strips to my heels. My rudimentary understanding is that the two ends work to supply extra blood flow to the affected area thus reducing inflammation. It’s not invasive or painful and also I cannot jumpstart a car with them.

All of this continued for 3 or 4 weeks until one week when I tried the exercises with shoes on, I noticed my Achilles no longer hurt. Tears came to my eyes. When you are injured or sick, even though you know it’s not true, you often think this is just the way you will be from now on. After a couple more weeks of physical therapy, Anne rewarded me by letting me run my first mile in the Alter-G.

The hardest part was wriggling these on

The Alter-G is an “unweighting” treadmill. I wriggled on a pair of neoprene bike shorts which had a zippered skirt attached. The overall look is less than flattering.Then I stepped onto and into a treadmill. The treadmill has the complementary outer skirt attached to the frame, which was lifted up around my waist so I could be zipped in. (This is starting to sound like a James Bond torture device.) Then I held still while the machine calculated my weight before setting what percentage of body weight I wanted to bear. PT Anne had me start at 65% so the machine pumped air into the giant balloon skirt encapsulating my legs until the correct percentage was achieved. It’s a slightly uncomfortable feeling because the shorts are tight so as to not allow any air to escape and the trapped air is constantly pushing against you.

Running at 65% body weight is a goofy feeling. Since I could not feel the full weight of my foot strikes, I felt as though my legs were flailing under me. Surely Anne thought my running form was more like a newborn giraffe rather than a seasoned runner.

But that first mile felt so amazing! I hadn’t run a full mile since mile 50 or so in my race. And my Achilles hadn’t hurt. I peeled off my sweaty tutu shorts elated. 

Eventually the inflammation went away even as I increased my mileage on both the Alter-G and then regular treadmills. Ready to run a short distance outside, Anne gave me the clearance to do so the week after Christmas.

Properly warmed-up, I took a short, easy 1.6 mile run outside on the last day of 2021. It was another amazing feeling!

No Fond Memories Today

Don’t make me remember a fond memory today.

I’m remembering memories every other day of the year. A sound, a song, a word, a line, a silhouette, a shadow. I pause to catch myself, shaking through the sensation of it not being you.

Don’t ask me to share a memory because I don’t get to choose when memories come up. Memories are never convenient. I don’t have a file folder of memories, those to share and those not to share. I’ll be damned if they are organized.

It’s two years since you’ve died. The day before I remembered how I didn’t know you were feeling bad. I went to bed and remembered how you hadn’t died yet. I woke up and remembered how I didn’t yet know you had died. The morning passed and I remembered how I now knew you were dead. 

The house filled with people throughout the rest of the day and not the mass of those people could make up for one you. A thousand people each with one of your memories cannot be you. 

So don’t make me remember a fond memory today.