41 seconds

That's how far off I was from running a sub-3 hour marathon. If it had been a perfect day, I'm sure I would have hit my goal.

But it was not a perfect day. Far from it. 

I started training for my sub-3 hour marathon at the tail-end of August. As I blogged earlier, I ran poorly at the Scandia 10K both physically and mentally. I took a week off to put a distinct end to track season and beginning to marathon season. My first workout back was a bust. Six miles at tempo pace was more like three miles at tempo pace and three miles of survival pace for an average of 6:47 pace overall. If you do the math, I had exactly three months to train for a sub-3 hour marathon hoping to average about 6:47 pace. Yet, as I kept training, my body began to surprise me. The more I stuck with it, pushed through the pain, and racked up the miles, the faster I got. At the end of September, I ran a 10 mile race in 6:21 pace. Plug that time into the McMillan Calculator, and it put me right on the fence to run a sub 3-hour marathon. My goal was within reach, but in the back of my mind, I knew I was too close to the edge of that line to confidently say I would go under 3 hours.

The days leading up to the race, I was a nervous mess. I celebrated my 29th birthday, a year that my mother later disclosed to me that she felt sad about when she was my age because it meant it was her last year in her 20's. Not the most positive outlook for what I had been viewing as turning one year wiser and faster. I was in the middle of a job transition from the Eugene Running Company to Gallagher Fitness Resources. On top of that, I had a job audition for teaching a Core and Stretch class at the UO where I had to lead a 30 minute class with a mic and music. Kevin was flying to Arizona for three days, leaving me alone on my birthday. I decided I would take my mind off all these stressors along with the stress of the pending race by celebrating my birthday in Eugene with my training partners and spend the night at Bella's house.

I wore a brand new pair of super cute Aerosoles to my birthday dinner, and the next day got a final flush and alignment massage after my audition to get any kinks out of my body. I had been having low back pain and arch pain so I knew my SI joint was probably out and my ankle was jammed. Between the UO and the massage, I went for a run and couldn't believe how painful my foot felt. It wasn't so much my arch as it was my big toe joint. Both the bottom and the top hurt like hell. I thought, if my foot hurts this bad marathon day I am screwed! The day after the massage, my toe joint no longer felt locked up, but the top was still very sore. It felt as though the tendons of my first two rays were bruised. I am one of those people who can't just let things be. There had to be a reason for this pain, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it right away so I could fix it before the marathon. I didn't have any swelling or visible bruising so I figured I still had a jammed ankle. I also blamed my new racing flats that I was trying to break in, thinking they had done the damage to my foot, but when I put them on, only the mesh touched the area where my foot was sore, not an overlay. Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head. I grabbed my new Aerosole flats and slipped them on. I paced around the apartment and in the matter of seconds, the top of my foot began throbbing. Bingo! My new shoes had irritated the tendon across my big toe. As soon as I had figured out the culprit, I felt relieved. It wasn't a mechanical thing wrong with my foot. I instantly began icing and using some left over Voltaren gel I had from my knee injury last year. Now I just had to hope the tendon would heal by Sunday.

Kevin and I drove to the Tri Cities on Saturday, and we brought our own homemade dinners to eat once we got to the hotel. Packet pickup was in the lobby of the place were were staying at, since the race started in the parking lot of the hotel. A one stop shop. I got my bib, ate a turkey sandwich, and watched football. To calm my nerves, Kevin and I looked up inspirational running quotes online. A few of my favorites were:

"The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a person's determination."- Tommy Lasorda
"There is only one way to succeed in anything, and that is to give it everything."- Vince Lombardi
"To a runner, a side stitch is like a car alarm. It signifies something is wrong, but you ignore it until it goes away."- unknown
"Pain is nothing compared to what it feels like to quit."- unknown
"Your body will argue that there is no justifiable reason to continue. Your only recourse is to call on your spirit, which fortunately functions independently of logic."- Tim Noakes
"As is true with life, and in a race, if you are willing to pay the price that others will not, you will reap the benefits that others will not!"- unknown
"If your going through hell, you might as well keep going!"- Sir Issac Unknown
"The greatest danger to most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short, but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark."- Michelangelo
"Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up."- Thomas Edison

That night I couldn't fall asleep (big surprise there). Once I finally did, I kept waking up every two hours, then every hour, then every half hour (I drank water and went to the bathroom just about every time this happened), then I just laid awake from 6AM until my alarm when off at 6:30. As soon as I woke up, I ate a banana, went to the bathroom a lot, and then ate a bag of Sport Beans about 45 minutes before the start. I went for a ten minute warm-up jog with Kevin 30 minutes before the race started. We ran out five minutes and back five minutes on a bike path behind our hotel. The view was beautiful, the weather was great, and the wind was almost non-existent.

It was a perfect day for a race.

Except my foot was sore. I couldn't believe it! It didn't hurt at all on my easy three mile run the day before. I had iced it and stayed off it most of Saturday since we had the long drive. I had also used Voltaren gel just before warming up. This couldn't be happening!

Back in hotel room, I stripped out of my warm-up gear, used the bathroom one last time, and then headed to the starting line. I tried to shake off the foot woes and chalk it up to pre-race jitters. I did a few form-drills and strides and then found Trae and Bella. Bella was upset because her Timex GPS was not linking. I had noticed that it had taken a long time for my Garmin to connect before my warmup. I hoped this wouldn't effect the accuracy during the race.

The race director made a few announcements, and then we were off. I checked my watch every few seconds to make sure I wasn't blowing it in the first mile. 6:15, 6:20, 6:34, 6:42, finally 6:53 and I settled in. My foot felt fine and I soon forgot about it. The course started flat and then we ran over a bridge, which included a gradual incline. I noticed coming off the bridge, the incline was steeper and shorter. We continued along the river, first on road through a residential area, and then onto a bike path through a park. It was about 2.25 miles in when Bella passed me saying something about killing herself and began creating a large gap. I resisted the temptation go with her. I knew she was not using a GPS, and I was right on pace. I had trained specifically for a 3-hour marathon and that's what I was going to run, from start to end.

I came up on a man around mile three and could not shake him. I decided to say hi and introduce myself, since it seemed we may be running together for awhile. This small conversation would also prove to myself that I was not going to fast. If I could keep 6:53's feeling comfortable now, hopefully, 6:50's later on would feel easy too. The gentleman's name was Doug. I found out Doug was aiming for a 3:02-3:05 marathon. I laughed and mentioned that my training partner who passed us both and was up ahead in the distance was aiming for the same time. I would have suggested he pace with her, but right now she was doing 6:40's. I also let him know our pace was a bit faster than his goal, right around 2:59-3-hour marathon mark. After another mile together, he said he was going to back off and not ruin his race by running up with me.

I continued on along the river path and tried to enjoy the breathtaking view. At mile four, I grabbed my first cup of water. This is how I had trained and I wanted simulate it the best I could: water at mile 4, water and GU at mile 8, and then a small sip of water or Powerade every two miles and another GU at mile 15 and mile 22. I noticed that my breathing was not as calm as I would have liked it to be and I was beginning to get the faintest of side-stitches in my upper right ribcage. Pain in this area had been a problem ever since the Scandia Run, and my massage therapist thought that it may actually be linked to a muscle in my arm/shoulder that connects down into the side of the ribs. I tried to focus on deepening my breathing and relaxing my arms.

As we approached the second bridge on the course, I was noticed I had been gaining on Bella. As we ran up the bridge, I closed the gap completely. We ran together over the bridge and then looped underneath it back in the direction we had came from on the other side. Immediately we were greeted with a strong headwind that neither of us had noticed before since we had been previously running with it.

Coming off the bridge, my minor upper left ribcage side-stitch had moved down to my lower right abdominal. Then my entire right oblique cramped up. I tried to keep my breathing smooth, but the headwind and stronger effort needed to maintain pace though it did not make that very easy. Suddenly, Kevin appeared in front of us, ready to pace us for a few miles. I was so relieved. I tucked in behind him and Bella tucked behind me. I put all my focus on getting rid of my side-stitch. It was getting worse by the minute. Now it had crept along my whole lower abdominal wall and was creeping up my left oblique. I tried puffing out air hard while taking a stomping step with with each stride. I heard this was a tactic to literally "kick out" a side-ache. The process was not working, though, and I felt like I was just wasting more energy.

We saw the leaders folding back on us and there were a few close-call head on collisions when we had to make a sharp blind turn off the bike path onto the road and vise versa. At the run-around-the-cone turn-around I saw that Bella had fallen back. It was just Kevin and I heading back with the wind at our backs at this point. The pain was unbearable, and I put my ego aside and grabbed my sides with my hands pinching hard. Normally, I would never do this in a race. I feel that it is a sign of weakness. When I see a runner up ahead of me grabbing their sides, I know they are falling apart and it gives me motivation to push forward and pass them. I didn't want to do it, because I saw it as the first step to me giving up, but I couldn't resist any longer. The side-stitches were so powerful, that I could feel myself begin to slouch forward, as though the muscle cramping was contracting my abdominal into a crunch.

I was desperate for relief, so I took my second GU at mile 11-12ish, or about 1:20 minutes into the run. I thought that perhaps I was cramping so bad because I needed more electrolytes, or energy, or water, or something! The GU and water chaser didn't help, and that's when panic really hit me. I was not going to finish this race. I couldn't. Not in this state of pain. I was in pure hellish agony. The cramps in my lower belly were worse than any mensuration cramps or gluten cramps I had ever experienced. I began wondering if I what I was experiencing was an ovarian cyst erupting or an appendicitis. My contracting obliques were making it difficult to breath. They were squeezed so tightly around my ribs that my lungs could not expand. Of course me panicking didn't help that either.

Kevin noticed my breathing was becoming irregular and he told me to take longer, slower breaths. Easier said than done! Bella caught back up to us and asked if I was ok.

"No!" I was almost in tears.
"Cramps, huh?"
"Yes, like nothing I've ever had."
"You'll be fine. It will pass."

I thought, are you kidding me? This started at mile what, 8? 9? We are at the half way point now and they are getting worse! Suddenly, Kevin said he had leave us on our own. We were back at his car and he wanted to make sure he got to the other side of the river to see me again at mile 18 and the finish. In my head I pleaded with him not to go. He was my rock. Even though he hadn't said much while he was pacing me, he was the one consistent thing that I could focus on in this chaos. He was holding pace and I just had to focus on staying with him. Now I was back on my own, depending on my watch and Bella who seemed to have found her second wind and was picking up the pace again. She took over took the lead and I followed close behind, but I realized we were running 6:40-45's and hadn't wanted to run that fast at mile 14-16. The stitches, which I thought were maybe starting to diminish, would suddenly come back in full force, and I again grabbed my sides and pinched hard. Sweet relief! It was so awkward running with chicken wings, but it was a few seconds of pain on a scale from 1-10 at a 3 rather than a 12.

Bella asked me if I wanted to take a Tums. She had packed them in case of a gastrointestinal emergency. I told her no. My issue was not my bowels, it was my muscles. As we ran on, I told her I needed to back off the 6:45's and run 6:50's and she should go ahead. Instead, she agreed  it was smart to back off and she held back with me. I was relieved for this, because it was nice to have her there, just in case I decided to bail out, she could tell Kevin where to come pick me up. Finally, I couldn't handle the pain anymore, I became desperate to try absolutely anything.

"Bella, I'll take those Tums."

"Ok, here," she said reaching into her shorts and grabbing a package of four out for me.

"Thanks," I said as I went to grab it, but before I could get a solid grip on the small saving grace, she let go and I dropped it! We were running too fast for me or her to even consider stopping and running back to pick it up. I began to cry, which did not help with my breathing or the stitches.

"Oh my gosh, Bella, I am so sorry! I am so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, I probably won't need them. If I do, I"ll  just poo my pants!"

This is what I love about Bella. Her honesty and her heart. She sacrificed her own race to give me a chance to save mine, and in return, I may have screwed us both over, but rather than get mad, she laughed it off and kept running.

We crossed the third bridge on the course, and I re-overtook the lead from Bella. There was something about this bridge, either the change in wind direction, the thought that we were heading back toward the finish line, the fact I now had the responsibility as lead runner, or just the fact that climbing up it required me to engage my hip flexors and lean forward slightly, that my side-stitches suddenly began to recede. I could literally feel the muscles around my abdominal cavity releasing and I could breath easier again. Mentally (and physically) this gave me a second wind. I was overcome with joy and despite slowing down to a 7min pace on mile 17 over the bridge, I dropped the pace right back down to 6:50 and focused on getting to the next water stop.

There was a short section of loose gravel in the race which really threw me off. There had been one previously on the other side of the river when Kevin was helping to pace us, and now here it was again. We had to go over a set of railroad tracks that was set on an embankment. I hoped this was the last surprise in the race course. There had been so many right turns, nearly running head-on into marathon traffic on the out and back section, blind corners, longer bridges than I had thought there would be, that I was ready to just run a nice flat, straight, paved course to the finish.

At mile 18 there was a water stop and a headwind. Off in the distance, I could see dark clouds and started to feel rain drops. I started to get chilled and wished I had worn arm warmers and a hat rather than just a singlet, shorts, and gloves. I hoped I was still right on pace for 3-hours, but I really had no idea. My watch had been beeping both early and late at the marathon course mile makers. I kept hitting split to help my watch stay on track with the course, but I was fearful that since I was playing it so close pace-wise to the sub 3-hour mark, that I might be slightly over that mark and miss my goal by a few seconds.

Kevin appeared at mile 18 and helped block the wind for me again. He was only able to help out for about a mile and then had to run back to the car to meet me at the finish. While running with me, he reassured me that I was doing great and that I was right on pace (he emphasized the RIGHT) and I had to maintain this effort. After he left, I tried to tuck behind some of the runners on the course, but they were far and few between. Whenever I caught up to someone and tucked in, my watch would immediately slow to 7 minute pace, and I would have to untuck and run around them.

The course winded around and on a few "switch backs" I looked back for Bella, but couldn't see her. I got a sickening feeling that something happened to her. I had thought she was close behind, but I wasn't hearing her footsteps because of the wind. Now I realized, she may have stopped way back at mile 18 and I just left her. I felt like a bad friend. She had been supportive during some of my dark miles, and then when she struggled, I just left her behind. I decided not to dwell on it and push on. For all I knew, she was still close behind me.

I started to feel fatigued, so I tried to take another GU, but as soon as I put a drop into my mouth, I gagged. I spit it out and decided I would have to just drink Powerade for energy for the last 10K. For some reason, my stomach couldn't tolerate anything sweet and solid.

Somewhere around mile 18-20, I had a feeling my SI joint slipped out of alignment. After mile 20, my low back very began getting sore and spasmy. I could feel my right glute working extra hard and same with my right calf, because both started to cramp. My left inner knee also began to ache which is a tell-tail-sign that my SI joint is out of alignment.

I was f*cking through with this race!

My body was turning against me and I just wanted to be done. With four miles to go, I thought, GO! Make your move! Pick it up! But my body wouldn't respond. My abdominals were sore, as though I had spent the last hour in plank. My right calf would cramp if I got up on my toes. My back was very angry at me for doing something (turning to sharply? Stepping wrong? Running a marathon? Who knows). I decided right there, though, that I wasn't going to "go with the plan". I wasn't going to run 6:45's for the last 10K and try to finish with the 6:30 kick I had hoped to have. I was going to get off my ass now (figuratively of course) and finish this marathon with every thing I could, and leave everything out on the race course. I saw Kevin again with three miles to go and he still was telling me I was right on the fence. I didn't care about the sub-3 hour thing though. I had known all along I was right on the fence. My whole training cycle the last 3 months I was right on the fence. I was going to finish this marathon as hard as I could and be damn proud of every step.

At mile 24, we had to climb over the last bridge, which was the first bridge. As I ran up to it, I realized it was way steeper than running over it the first time. Steeper, but shorter. I busted my ass up the hill, making sure my watch showed I stayed under a 7 minute mile. I tried to open my stride on the downhill, taking full advantage of it and allowing my muscles a break from doing the work themselves. Once I got on the flat, I kicked with everything I had, which was only about a 6:40 for the last mile, but I was ecstatic to have gone through everything I had gone through in this marathon and see a 6:40 at mile 25 pop up on my watch. As I ran toward the finish line, the big clock was ticking: 3:00:28, 3:00:32, 3:00:38..... I was still going to be under 3:01! I crossed the line and folded forward, resting my hands on my knees and then immediately sat down. My low back was spasming like crazy. A woman rushed over with a medal and a finishers t-shirt for me. I stood up as soon as possible so as to not make a scene, and hobbled over to the massage area.

"Do you guys know much about aligning SI joints?"
"You bet! Hop on the table."

I got on the table face down. The masseuse, who I will from here on call "Mr. Magic Hands" grabbed my leg with one arm and pressed the palm of his other hand into my low back. He then push, pulled and twisted. The force he was using on my back didn't hurt my back as much as it hurt my abs as they were being pressed into the table. I grinned and beared it, believing this brief moment of pain would be worth it in a few minutes. Then he flipped me over and tugged on my legs. Finally, he twisted me to each side. As he was working, another masseuse walked up to oversee what he was doing.

"Did you check her leg length?"
"Yeah, she was two inches off."
"Two inches!?! Wow! Does this happen often to you?"
"After some long runs," I said.
"When did it happen today?"
"Around mile 18 or 20. I'm not sure. I felt my knee first, then my back, then my calf."
"Wow, that's impressive you ran that far with your legs two inches off."

My back was feeling a lot better after about a two minutes of work, so I thanked Mr. Magic Hands and told him that I thought he got it and I could take it from here. I got off the table and my back was no longer spasming. My stomach on the other hand was about to loose it's GU's. Kevin grabbed me a free water and we walked back to the hotel room. I walked in and started screaming in the sake of nausea.

"Pour me Pepto! I..I... need.... to ...ugh! I need....to... shower."

I could hardly talk, let alone move without feeling sick and dizzy. I knew I needed to drink more water. I struggled to peel off my wet race clothes and waddled into the shower. My legs felt exhausted, my abs felt bruised, and my back was sore. While in the shower, I turned the water as cold as it would go. We had to be checked out of our hotel room in 45 minutes and I was bound to take an "ice bath" before we left. Twice I almost tipped over and fell out of the shower. Kevin came rushing in to make sure I was ok. I couldn't talk, I was now sick, sore and freezing. I did my best to stay in as long as I could bear it, and then I shouted for Kevin. He came in with a towel and a shot of Pepto. I threw back the shot and told him to poor me another. I chased it with as much water as I could. After the second shot, I dressed in compression gear and covered with some clean warm up clothes.

Kevin showered and packed up the car, while I kept walking circles around the hotel room and sipping water. Finally, we headed back out to the finish and checked my overall results. 3:00:40, second place female overall. I found the race director to get my award early so Kevin and I could get started on our four hour drive home.

During the drive, we stopped once for food (I had a salad with salmon on it since that was the only gluten free menu item and some of Kevin's left over jojo's) and three times for the bathroom (I peed clear every time!). When we got home, I was on my feet constantly and other than feeling like I had been in a boxing match and had my ribcage blown apart by Muhammad Ali, I felt great! My legs felt great, my back was feeling much better, and my stomach was fine.

The following days went the same. No problems walking down stairs or staying hydrated, but if you tried to hug me, I would scream. My abs stayed sore for a good two days. Crazy! As for the race, I have no regrets. I am not upset that I was 41 seconds slower than my goal. I know that I gave the race everything I had, and even more than I ever knew I had. Looking back, I am astonished that I held some of my fastest race splits during those 8 agonizing miles. I also cannot believe that I averaged under a 7min pace for the last 10K of the race. Those brutal workouts that I ran since Scandia when I was in pain and doubt and wanted to quit, yet still pushed through, hoping I wasn't making a mistake and instead building my pain threshold had paid off.

Right before I ran this race, the term "warrior" was being tossed around in a lot of conversations. Cassey, the woman whose Pilates blog I follow, wrote on her Facebook pages "Be a warrior, not a worrier." My boss told me that what will separate me from the others in the race is that I am a warrior. And Kevin, on many occasions leading up to the race, told me that I am a warrior in my workouts. Since the race, I have had time to reflect on what it takes be truly be a warrior. When I had been running the marathon and wanted desperately to end the pain and drop, I thought back to that quote, "Pain is nothing compared to what it feels like to quit." I know now that if I would have quit, I would have been disappointed with myself, even though at the time, it seemed like the best decision. Battling through the pain, giving everything I had in the moment, and not giving up, is being a warrior. I have no ill-feelings toward that 41 seconds. If anything, it's a motivator to train harder next time. When goals don't come easy, that's what makes them even the more rewarding to achieve. Part of what's scary about the marathon is the anticipation of pain and not knowing if you can overcome it. Now I know that I can run through pain that I never imagined that I could. Next time I just have to cut off that 41 seconds!

The Leech

I've never actually encountered a real leech before. They sound gross, though. Grabbing a hold of you, sucking out your blood, feeding off of your energy, YUCK! Yet, I have to confess, in my last race, The OTC 10 Miler, I acted as a leech. I fueled myself off my hosts energy, and I didn't let anything detach me from them.

Race day morning the weather was bad. It had been raining and windy all weekend. The weather man warned of gusts up to 40mph and 1-3 inches of accumulation before the weekend was over. I guess you could say we were fortunate because Sunday morning it was only raining lightly and the winds had calmed down to a mild 13mph. Also, there were no down trees on the race course and only one really massive puddle that you couldn't get around. The lack of intense wind gusts kept the remaining branches attached to their repective trees rather than flying through the air and taking out runners.

We had driven down to Eugene from Salem that morning and Steve had been late picking us up. Then, I had an "emergency" pit stop at a gas station in Coburg on the way down which further delayed us. When we finally got to Eugene, my nerves, and possibly the steak fajitas from the night before, had gotten to me again and I had to make another pit stop at the bathrooms in park where the race was being held. I hate these bathrooms because the stalls have no doors on them. I only use them when it's a real emergency, and even though I had just gone, this was an emergency. As soon as Steve parked the car, I bolted. Another woman was heading in at the same time, and I thought, oh great, now one of us is going to have to walk past the other one while they are doing their business. "Hi," I said, trying to make this a little less awkward by exchanging pleasantries ahead of time. "Hi," she said, "there's no toilet paper in the bathrooms." "What?" I said as the blood left my face. I felt mortified. "There's no toilet paper," she said again, "I was in here earlier and left to go grab some from my car." I stepped inside every stall and checked. She was right, there was no toilet paper. "Here," she said, handing me a small clump from her pocket, "I brought a bunch." "Um, thanks," I said as I stared at the few squares in my hand. I was now panicking. This was not going to be enough. I debated for a second about running back out to Steve's car and telling the boys we needed to drive to the nearest Starbucks so I that could use their restroom. Maybe Steve even had TP in his car. But as soon as the thought had entered, I ran into a stall. I could not hold my bowels for one more second. I dropped trow and situated myself in a squat hovering above the toilet. I won't go into the details, but lets just say, it was a bad situation and the tiny little clump of TP I was grasping in my had was not going to cut it. My quads began quivering under my body weight. I felt like I had been holding Yoga Chair Pose for the past hour. As my brain scramble to figure out a solution to my toilet paper problem, I heard the the lady who had lent me some of hers flush. She walked past me making sure to keep her eyes forward. Oh man, was I really going to do this? "Um," I said meekly, "you wouldn't happen to have any more toilet paper, would you?" I heard her chuckle and she stuck her hand around the corner revealing a large wad of TP. "Thank you so much!" I finished my business, cleaned up the best I could, still mortified I had not done a good enough job and it may come back to haunt me in the race, and got out of there. As I jogged back to Steve's car, my legs felt like I had bricks strapped to my feet. The squatting had turned them into aching noodles. We only had time to jog for about two miles. We were dodging puddles the whole way and averaged about nine minute pace. The whole time I was thinking, I can hardly lift my legs. Boy I've screwed up this race.

After a weak attempt at some form drills, I filed into the starting line and attempted to shield myself on all sides with runners. Because it was in the mid 50's, I had chosen to only wear a singlet, shorts, hat, and gloves. A good choice for a 10 mile race, but not such a good choice for just standing around in. The race was late to start because the 5K lead biker was no where to be found. After an eight minute delay, the race was underway. Opposite from my race strategy at the windy 10K Scandia (there it was to race my own race), I tucked in behind Kevin and followed his lead. My goal was to run with Kevin and Steve as long as I could. They had wanted to start out at 6:25 and work down from there. I was thinking that if I could just average 6:25-6:30 pace, I would be thrilled. I knew my decision to leech onto these guys early on could ruin my race. I decided to take the risk and see if my body was capable than more than my brain thought it was.

We ran the first mile slow. Not intentionally, but because Kevin's Nike GPS was off. My watch had us at 6:35 pace, so I said to Kevin, "Hey, we're going a little slow." "No we're not," he said, "We're at 6:23. A little too fast." I asked a runner next to us what his watch was at and he agreed that we were going 6:35 pace. "Well, crap!" said Kevin as he began to pick it up. Steve and I followed his pacing, but we still hit the first mile in 6:35. I wasn't too jolted by this since I was just hoping to average a smidgen under 6:30 pace. If anything I thought this may help me hold onto the boys longer. There were two run-around-the-cone U-turns on the course, and at the first one we saw a runner in front of us slip and fall. "Take the turns easy," noted Kevin. I was glad we were starting out conservative, because I didn't feel adequately warmed up and my quads were still a little achy.

After the cone, Kevin picked up the pace and we hit 6:28 for the second mile. Then Steve then made a move and took the lead from Kevin. I kept my second position and now paced behind Steve. We passed several people at this point, including two women, which put me in contention for third woman overall. I was nervous about making this move so early, because I knew the women who I had passed were fast. Was I picking up the pace to early? Was I going to crash and burn later on? Then my watch chirped 6:28 for mile three and I knew I was still close to right where I had wanted to be even if I was running my own race at this point. Kevin took over the lead again and that's when we ran a 6:15 for mile four. "Balls!!" I shouted when I looked down at my watch. "That was a 6:15, boys." This split didn't seem to phase either of them, and they ignored my comment. My brain was doing cartwheels. Well I had made up for the first slow mile, but jeez, 6:15?!? At mile four?!? What was I doing running with these guys? Was this how it was going to be now? They had started out too slow, so now they had all this extra energy built up and they were going to run the last six miles of the race at my 10K PR pace? This is crazy! I debated falling back and just letting them do their own thing and I would do mine. At this point, we caught up to another group and despite our efforts to pass, one of the guys hung with us. Oh, great, I thought, now I'm pacing with three boys. This is not smart, Anna. Yet, I didn't back off the pace. I just kept running with them. I realized that seeing the 6:15 on my watch was more of a mental shock to my system, rather than a physical shock. My legs still felt fine, my breathing was under control, and my upper body was relaxed. I decided at that point that I was going to stay with our "wolf pack" (that's what the course marshals started calling our group as we ran by) as long as my body could hold out.

As we made our way off the second bridge in the race and took a sharp turn left, we were warned it was slippery and to stay to the left because the course would fold back on itself and we'd be seeing the leaders coming at us. As we ran toward mile six, where the last cone turn around was, I began to feel more confident that I had not made a mistake going out too hard. I had done a good job keeping up with Kevin and Steve at this point and felt like I could repeat what we had just done in the second half of the race. Then Steve took the lead again and kept us at an honest 6:18 pace through mile five. Instead of staring at my Garmin wide-eyed when the split popped up, and simply noted it and kept moving forward. I was a leech and I was not going to detach. As we saw the first runners on their way back, some of them said good job and others just waved. The greatest, though, were the ones that did a double take when I ran past. I imagined them thinking to themselves, was that Anna? What is she doing way up here? Wow! Ok, maybe they weren't thinking that, but if I saw myself, that's what I would have been thinking. Or maybe something more along the lines of, what an idiot!

During mile six, we slowed down to loop around the last cone and then began our four mile trek to the finish line- into the wind. As soon as I was around the cone, I looked immediately to my right to see who was coming up on us. No one was there. I  looked down the bike path ahead of us and saw no one. No one! I couldn't believe we had formed such a gap on all the people we had passed. Finally, I estimated it was about a minute behind us, I saw the two women that we had passed at mile three running together towards us. Part of me felt relieved that I had a decent size gap on them. Another part of my panicked because they both still looked fresh. I was wondering if they were saving themselves for the last four miles of the race. The wind and turns were going to make these last miles hard and my Garmin reflected this was the case after we ran a 6:20 and 6:24 for miles six and seven. I tried my best to file in behind Kevin and Steve as they took turns taking over the lead, but it was hard to stay completely out of the wind. At mile eight, Kevin was leading and said that he was really going to pick it up on the last two miles. I said, "Ok, sounds good." I felt like I still had some juice in the legs and I was looking forward to seeing just how much. We hit mile eight in 6:18 and Kevin accelerated. We hit mile nine in 6:16. Huh, I thought, uneventful. At this point, we had lost Steve and it was just Kevin, the random guy, and me. We approached the park where the finish line was, and I suddenly got giddy. We were almost done! "Whoohoo! We are almost done! Half mile to go!" I shouted. I surged a head of Kevin and my sudden endorphin rush took him by surprise. He hesitated for a second and then took the lead back from me. We lost the random guy and now it was just Kevin and I making our way around the duck pond, on the slippery cobblestone. Kevin kept inching away from me, and I did my best to keep up with him, but I was afraid I might slip if I got up on my toes anymore than I already was. There were a lot of turns and the footing was bad. I decided I would wait to throw down my sprint until we got on the concrete straightaway. I took one last look across the pond where I had just run to see if I could see any women coming up behind me. No one. As I made my final turn toward the finish line, I could hear the announcers cheering in two men. Wow, I thought, I had see no one in front of Kevin, Steve, and I for so long. We must have really picked up the pace on this last mile. As soon as our path was straight, Kevin took off and I followed. I got up on my toes and was surprised by how much of a sprint I had left for just running ten miles. As I crossed the line, I looked over at the clock and saw that I was at 1:03 something. I hit my watch and came to a heaving stop. As soon as I caught my breath I began screaming. "AHHHHHH!" I grabbed Kevin and gave him a huge bear hug. "Wooohooo! I did it, Babe! I kept up with you the whole time! Yes! This is amazing! Whooo!" I was so excited and I suddenly didn't feel tired at all. Normally, I finish a race and I'm hunched over, sucking wind, trying not to throw up on the person taking off my chip or bib tag. This time, the race officials had to get my attention to collect the proof of my achievements because I was too busy celebrating with my husband. We waited in the chute for Steve to finish, which was only about twenty seconds after us. "Come on, let's go cool down," I said to Kevin. "Let's go. Oh man, I'm so pumped! We need to keep running, come on..." I started jogging off and Kevin just grumbled. I was on a runner's high. I felt like I could keep going, keep running forever at that point. The rain had started to come down harder and Kevin had to keep yelling at me to slow down. "Babe, I can't run that fast right now, my hamstring is really tight." I just kept jabbering away when I hear him say, "What are you saying? I can't hear you up there. Anna, slow down!" I just giggled. I knew what he meant. Slow my cool down pace down. There's no need to run 7:30 pace or faster after just racing 10 miles. But another interpretation of what he was asking me to do had crossed my mind, and I thought, no, Kevin, I won't slow down. This is how fast I am now. You've got a little leech you have to deal with in races from now on. I'm your pace now.

After about a mile and a half Kevin headed back to the car and I kept running. I wanted to get in about 15 miles that day and I just needed one more mile to hit my goal. I ran on Pre's Trail and the bark was squishy from all the rain. I began to get really cold and wished I had put on a jacket before cooling down. I didn't rush back to the car, though. I needed this time to myself. I wanted to reflect on what I had just done. I had gone against my better judgment to prove that my body was capable of doing more than my brain thought it could. I realized that if I have a goal and give my brain no other options, then I can reach that goal. There was no workout leading up to this race that gave me a reason to believe that I was capable of running ten miles at a 6:20 pace. I had had so many horrible tempo runs earlier in my training that I was elated when I was able to average 6:25 pace for six miles just the week before. I had figured that would be the best pace I could average for the 10 Miler, but after pacing with Kevin and Steve in other workouts in the past two weeks, I decided to try to pace with them in the race as well. And it worked! My running block had been mental and even though I had known that, I still tried to blame it on other things, like just sucking in general. Now I didn't have any excuses.

I'm running my first marathon since spring 2011 in three weeks. I'm pretty excited to see if I can hit my goal of sub-three hours. I had gone into this training cycle thinking it was a done deal, but after struggling early on, I changed my goal to 3:02-3:03. Now I'm back on board with believing that I'm faster than I think I am. I'm ready to take it to the next level mentally and "unleech" myself by running the race solo because Kevin and Steve won't be there to pace me. It's just going to be me, my body, and my brain.

Never, ever, ever give up, like ever.

I don't mean to go all Taylor Swift on you, but I have come to terms with the idea that if you want to reach your goals you can't give up. Even when you really really want to and you are hating life at the moment because it seems like everything that could go wrong in a workout is going wrong, you need to hang in there. I'm speaking for myself, of course. There have been a lot of workouts in the past month that I wanted to give up during, and I mentally did give up during. There were many times when I thought about how it would be so much easier just to do one more interval and stop short of the 4 intervals I actually had left, but I am not a quitter. If there's one thing that nags at my ego more than not reaching my workout or race goal, it's quitting before I even try. Sure, there have been workouts that I probably should have stopped. There have been conditions that I shouldn't have run in. There have been surfaces that I shouldn't have tried to hit goal pace on. There have been people that I shouldn't have been trying to keep up with. There have even been races that I should not have entered, but doing those things anyway, have led me to now. Pushing through pain and mental fatigue, and completing even the smallest of bench marks along the way have led me to this point in my training.

Flash back to a month ago. I could not run a 6 mile tempo at 6:45 pace to save my life (literally, I think if a bear was chasing me on that late August workout, I would have been mauled without even putting up a fight). That day I just barely hit 6:47 average and I ran positive splits the whole way. Despite the idea being "tempo", I ran with a 5K effort the whole way and almost threw up on more than one occasion. I wanted to quit that day. The only thing that stopped me from bagging it early was the fact that I had to get back to my car somehow whether I walked or ran and running just seemed faster. I stubbornly finished the workout exhausted and sulking for weeks afterward.

In one month, so much can happen. Every time I ran a workout, I got very nervous. I would start beating myself up before it even began. Yet, I kept running those workouts. I kept pushing myself. I backed off and only ran 4 miles for my next tempo. My average pace was a little bit better: low 6:40's. I had a good ladder workout and hill workout in the subsequent weeks that really built my confidence. I tried to ignore the fact that these were interval workouts and I had rest in between to aid my faster splits. I ran a 5 mile tempo and brought my average down into the 6:30's. It was still hard and not how I felt a tempo should feel. Yet, I knew I was making progress and if I keep pushing myself, eventually I would not feel this way. Finally, last week, I ran the dreaded 6 mile tempo again....this time in 6:25 pace! It felt uncomfortably comfortable, the way a tempo should feel. What was even more incredible was that I paced with Kevin the whole way and finished my last mile in 6:10, and it felt good! Looking back at the past month, I realize that even though I was frustrated and tired, every one of those tempo runs I have run in between this one and the first one has been steadily getting faster and faster with less and less effort. I also realized that I had never given up, despite wanting to so many times. I just kept fighting and it paid off.

My long runs have been going in the same direction. I started out having a hard time hitting 7's in the middle of an 18 miler. Two weeks later I was able to average 12 miles at 6:54 pace in the middle of a 20 miler, but it took lots of effort and I wanted to quit early. My brain kept telling my body to only run 10 miles @ gmp and call it good, but I decided to push through even if some of the miles dropped down to 7 or 7:10's. Last week I ran 22 miles with 5 miles that were suppose to be at 6:50 pace and 2 miles at 6:30. The 6:50's felt really easy, and I was able to converse most of the way with the guy who had planned the workout. We hit all 5 miles between 6:45-6:50. Then the last 2 miles were between 6:20-6:30. Again, it felt challenging, but doable. This run followed two days after the 6 mile tempo at 6:25 pace workout and four days after a hill repeat workout.

This past Tuesday I had incredible heart burn and fatigue. The kind of stuff that made me concerned for my overall health. I had been under a lot of stress lately and felt anemic. I had been taking iron supplements, but I still felt lethargic and could barely bring myself run at all, let alone run 5x1600@hmp w/400m recovery. I did it though. On bark. In the pouring rain. Again, I paced with Kevin. He led 3 of the laps and I led 2. His laps took us between 6:18-6:23. My two laps were both 6:15's. (So it ended up being a 10K pace workout if you factor in the mushy trail). Again, I felt crappy from the waist up, but my legs felt fine despite slipping all over in the mud. My brain kept telling me to quit early. It told me I was sick and weak and this was not helping me but only hurting me. It came up with all kinds of excuses that cause the burning feeling in my chest to worsen. Yet, I pushed through the mental negativity since my legs felt good and finished the workout. Here's the funny thing, the next day my legs were sore from the mushy trail, but my heartburn and fatigue were gone. After focusing on how well I ran despite adversity and getting a good nights sleep, my brain calmed down and so did my anxiety and symptoms.

This Sunday I have a 10 mile race. I originally was going into this race with the mindset that I could not break 65 minutes and I would treat it as a workout. I still don't think that going in with that mindset is a bad thing if it helps keep me calm between today and race day, especially since were are suppose to face remnants of a typhoon for weather that day. Yet, after these past few weeks, I now believe that my body is capable of something greater (again weather permitting). My ultimate goal would be to latch onto Kevin and stay with him the whole way. I may take a more conservative approach, though, and start at 6:30 pace with our friend Steve, and work my way down to lower 6:20's.

I do have to take a moment hear to confess that my one rock through this training cycle has been Kevin. He's talked me off the edge of the cliff more than one time (more like 2 dozen times!), and having him there in workouts as a target to focus on has kept me moving forward. At first I would think, "just don't lose sight up him." Now I think, "just don't lose contact with him." Pacing with him has made running workouts fun again! When we can, we may muster a short conversation, or get competitive and push each other harder, or just enjoy the fact that we have someone to pace with after we've lost the rest of the group. I no longer have the ultimate goal of beating Kevin in a race (not that I won't try, because I always need to be challenging myself), but for now, just keeping up with him and putting enough fear in him that he keeps trying to get faster is my goal. You see, if I get faster than my training partner, then I won't be able to train with him. Kevin needs to keep getting faster, so that I keep getting faster!

No matter what happens in my upcoming race, I know that I will be giving it my best shot and will not be quitting. I'm over that mental quitting stuff! I have proven to myself that I am in good shape, that I've put in the hard work, and I can reach my goals. Yo, Brain! Get prepared because this body is ready to rock!

Losing it, gaining it back, and "losing" it

The human body is an impressive machine. It can be pushed so much harder than you mind ever thinks it can. I really believe we are all capable of more than we think that we are. It's our mind that usually holds us back and sets our limits. Yet sometimes you can tell your mind to shut up, and that's when magic happens.

At the end of 2012, I still had not quite figured out what caused my knee to flair up. My best guess was that my SI joint had been out of whack and I was landing harder on my left side. After constant manipulation of my low back, things seemed to be back on track. I was having less low back pain, I could now do a basic bicycle crunch without pain, and I had my range of motion back. After about a month of consistent running (and we'll consider running 4-6 miles every other day consistent at this point), I signed up for the Dash 'n Dine 5K. Time: 19:36. Whaaaaaat? Oh yeah, I have blogged about this kind of stuff before, don't use it, don't lose. I went into the race with ZERO expectations. I wasn't even paying attention to the pace on my watch while I was running. I just ran at my best effort and was 7 seconds off my PR, the PR I had said on flat, fast, Hayward Field. The Dash 'n Dine course had hills in it, including one steep one in the last half mile. The next five months were a whirlwind of PR's. I had begun doing speed work again. Short speed work and with a training group. This was exactly the type of track stuff that I used to stay away from because 1) I am a marathon runner and 2) I'd get injured. Yet, it seemed to be the strength that I had been missing in my training. I kept my mileage low (40-60) and the paces even lower. I was the rabbit in the group, just trying not to get caught.

February 12: Mardi Gras 5K: 19:34

March 3rd: 10K that I got sent on the wrong course, 6.3mi in 40:18 (nothing like having a kid who you passed in the last mile of the race waiting for you in the finishing shoot. Nice kid, though, he let me go in front of him to get my correct placing.)

March 17th: Shamrock 15K: 1:00:50. This was the big shocker. I have NEVER been a good hill runner and I kept a 6:40-7:10 pace on the 4ish mile climb.

April 14th: Corvallis Half Marathon: 1:26:30. Felt like sh*t from mile one. I was shocked that with zero tempo runs in my training that I was able to maintain this pace.

April 27th: Eugene Marathon 5K: 19:04. Crushed my PR and again on a course with hills.

At start of June, I ran an impromptu marathon with over 1800ft of elevation gain on mostly trails in 3:30, laughing and talking with my training partners the whole way. I went into July with even bigger goals: a 5K in 6:00's. An official sub 40 10K, and a 5:30 mile.

June 21: Summer Solstice 10K: 39:01 (Last year I ran a 40:00 in August)
July 4th: Butte to Butte 10K: 38:51. Whaaaaat???? I still wonder if someone snuck me an illegal drug to pop out this PR on THAT course.
July 11th: OTC All-Comer's 5K: 18:41 (6's on the head. Last year I ran a 19:29 in July)
July 25th: OTC All-Comer's 3K: 10:54 (that's 5:50's! Last year I ran a 11:14 in August)
August 1st: OTC All-Comer's Jogger's Mile: 5:30 (Last year I ran a 5:43 in August)

During late July-early August, I was focusing on tapering for these shorter events. I dropped my mileage down to the mid-50's and eased off on the length and intensity of my Tuesday speed workouts. On July 8th, I got a hint that I had reached my peak a couple of weeks back and couldn't hold onto this speed much longer. I re-raced the mile, hoping to go under 5:30 and ran 5:31. Two days later I ran a flat, windy 10K and could only muster out a 39:16. Worry and depression set in. Had I lost my racing edge? In my last race, I gave up mentally. I got a side stitch in the first mile and it carried with me until the end. I couldn't battle the wind anymore and I just gave up. Rethinking all of my training and goals, I took 6 days off from running to let my body heal and rest. I was now moving into marathon training and was hoping all of my mileage and hard work over the spring/summer would translate into a sub-3 hour marathon. I was there last year fitness-wise and I knew I could get there again, especially now with this much faster base I was carrying with me.

The problem was... is... I have lost it mentally. I really attribute 50% of my PR's to my mental strength. The other 50% is the mileage and the workouts, losing 15lbs in the last 2 years and eat a gluten-free, dairy-free diet, and sticking with Pilates. But that "Toot Toot" training run I wrote about last year, that workout changed my life. I summoned strength that I never knew I had and it changed the way I looked at training and racing forever. Losing that now, is like losing a major part of my training. I now give up on myself quicker. I don't care if someone passes me in a race. I don't fight the demons trying to slow me down, I allow them to get into my head and fester there. I realize this is going to be a BIG problem if I want to run my goal of sub- 3 hours. A marathon is a long long ways to be beating yourself up mentally. If I can no longer run a 10K without losing it at mile 4, how am I going to run the marathon?

My training partners tell me this is a normal stage of training. I've just hit a lull and once I get my mileage up consistently, I'll find the workouts get easier again and I have my strength and stamina back. The question is, will the mental strength and stamina come back as well?

Continued from "What goes up must come down"

(written in retrospect in 2013)

A week later I saw Stan James at Slocum. Stan is the man of diagnoses. He was the only one who properly confirmed my plica injury without an MRI. I trusted him and figured he'd know what the problem was and help me fix it.

Well, he didn't. He was baffled because we couldn't mimic the pain in the office. I said, "I can make it hurt if I walk up and down stairs." So off he sent me to climb stairs for awhile. Sure enough, 2 flights latter, my knee was throbbing. He assumed it was tendonitis of my semitendonosus and sent me off with a prescription for Voltaren. He told me to try running again in one week.

So I rested, stretched, applied creme, and waited. In one week I tried running again. This time I got 3 miles on a walk/jog style run. All 3 miles were painful.

So, I quit running. I decided to wait 6 weeks in case I did really have a stress reaction in my knee. In the meantime I continued with Pilates, but I noticed that I could not do the bicycle crunch, squats, or many leg extensions without a lot of pain. I also took a Yoga class and couldn't do many of the moves because they were so painful to my left knee.... and my left hip. Hmmm, I got to thinking, if I cannot do a basic straddle stretch without massive pain to my left hip, perhaps there's something greater going on here.

After 6 weeks of no running, I tried running again. I had sharp pain in my knee immediate from the first step. How was this possible? I just didn't understand. I decided to seek the opinions of some physical therapists. Their advice was helpful, but when I tried to apply it on a test run, the pain was still there. It was on one of these test runs, that I turned my head/body to the left to see if a car was coming up behind me and noticed my knee screamed at me even more.

Wait. Stop just there.

My brain began working like crazy. Maybe it wasn't me knee, or my sartorius, or my semitendonosus. Maybe it was my back. Specifically my SI Joint. When I got home from my run, I did some twisting exercises I had learned from the past to adjust my SI joint. The next day I went for a run...and had less pain.

I immediately made an appointment with Kelly. When I got to his office the next day, I told him I that I thought I had figured out what was wrong, but I wanted him to try to figure it out without my bias opinion. I told him to do a full body alignment check on me. Everything seemed to be normal, except when he had me sit at the edge of the table and bend forward, the bones in my right low back were slipping way up. He then noticed that laying down on the table, my right leg was a clear inch shorter than my left leg. After some work, we got everything back in place... and the rest... is history.

It took many weeks and I had to constantly work on adjusting my SI joint and to make it stay in place, but I began running pain free again. I also had full range of motion back in my hips and Pilates and stretching were no longer painful. You know the phrase, "hindsight is always 20/20". Well, looking back on things, it's obvious that my SI joint slipped out of alignment back on that "Toot Toot" run. I complained after the run of right low back pain. It was so bad, I could not sit in a car afterward. It hurt for 3 days and I thought I had bruised my back with my water-belt, but there wasn't a mark. A week later, Kevin made the comment to me while sitting on a park bench with my feet dangling, "Wow, your left leg is a lot longer than your right leg."

Sigh.

Anyway, coming back from this injury, I'm taking it really slow. I decided that I am going to focus on short distances for awhile and stop marathon/ultra marathon training. Hopefully I have better luck and this stupid alignment problem made me smarter.

What goes up must come down

(Written in fall of 2012)

It's the law of gravity: what goes up, must come down. In running, it's the mantra I use when I'm attacking a huge hill to remind me that the pain and suffering of climbing the beast will eventually come to and end with the sweet reward of a downhill. In life, it's what reminds us that we are not invincible, and no matter how careful we are and what steps we take to ensure that no trouble will come our way, that life is full of unexpected twists.

Egos go up and then come down.

I was getting fit and fast, as in I was getting fit really quickly and I was getting damn fast. I never imagined that I would accomplish the running feats that I accomplished this summer. What a sweet reward to come back from a controversial knee surgery and be faster than I had ever been before, without much of what I would consider a speed base. And, I was running injury free. I was listening to my body and doing what it felt like I could do at the time, but being careful not to push it too hard or too soon. I thought I was being smart.

No one is invincible. No matter how careful you are, something could come into your life to alter your training. You could trip and fall and tear your meniscus. You could get in a car accident and break your leg. You could come down with a bad case of the flu and be laid up for a week in bed. Or, like me, you could go for your first bike ride in 2 months, sit for 4 hours, forget to stretch after a Pilates workout, and have your sartorius muscle tighten up on you, causing friction in your knee. Ok, maybe it wasn't totally random, but from all the articles I've been finding online, pes anserine pain is more common in athletes who participate in cutting sports or side-to-side activities, and runners with weak hips or poor shoes. Neither were may case, but it's possible my form was beginning to deteriorate slightly from all the mileage. Or... since this came after a down mileage/easy week, the sudden introduction of cycling into my training regimen and the lack of stretching after hours of shorting my hip-flexors had suddenly caused a huge hiccup in my running.

I have had pes anserinus problems In the past. Back then it was due to a tight hamstring muscles. I'd stretch, massage, and even get dry needled. The muscle would loosen up, time would pass, and I'd be back on my way down the road. This time, I decided to address the pain myself rather than running to massage for help. The pain was so slight and dull that I thought I could fix it quickly with some self massage on the foam roller, lots of stretching, and a few modifications to my training. I rolled and rolled, both on a tennis ball and with the foam roller. I regained a lot of flexibility in my hamstring. Yet still, I had pain on my easy runs. I did discover that when I ran fast intervals or when I ran uphill that I had no to very little pain. Hmmmm, perhaps this was not an issue with my hamstring after all. Now I began leaning towards quads.

On Saturday, 5 days after the onset of the pes pain, I got a massage from Kelly. He determined my knee pain was actually due to a tight sartorius muscle. He worked on it pretty aggressively up in the hip and even some directly on the tendons in the pes anseranus. I left his office thinking I had been magically cured once again.

Nope.

On Sunday, I went forward with the long run I had planned. 20mi easy- but subject to change if I had any pes pain. I wasn't going to be deviated if I needed to shorten the run a bit if my knee was a little tight. I had a race in a week and I didn't want to compromise my time by running too far the weekend before. I though perhaps even 14-16 was smarter if all things felt good.

Kevin and I drove to Champoeg Park that morning for an Autumn Leaves course simulation run. Kevin had an easy 23 miler on the docket and he didn't feel like running it all over our normal Salem routes. I don't blame him. But I was scared. What if I could not run for very long. I would be stuck at the car in Champoeg Park for 3 hours waiting for him to get done. Nothing like leaving that kind of lasting impression on the course that I was trying to break the women's record at. I was now determined to run as long as I could, so long as my knee allowed. As we pulled into the park, we noticed a huge lineup of cars also arriving. Here there was a half marathon going on that day. This was going to make our run a little more interesting, but we welcomed the company.

We parked in an nearly deserted parking lot away from the race start. The bathrooms were vacant and we prepped with some last minute fueling/clothing stripping. I took a deep inhale before we took off. I was very nervous that this was not going to go well. I was wrong. The first 2 miles were great. No pain at all! Normally after about a quarter mile into the run, I would feel the dull ache near my pes anserinus set in. THis time nothing. But then, after 2 miles both knees began to bother. I took this as a good sign. Each side hurt evenly. Kelly had worked on both sartoriuses so they were both going to be a little sore. I stopped after two miles to stretch as Kevin relieved himself in a bush. We resumed running and all was good. No pain at all on the right side. A slight tightness on the left, but not as bad as last week. Again, a Kelly miracle massage had worked!

We jumped onto the race route which hadn't started yet. The course was the same as Autumn Leaves. We crossed the wooden footbridge and began climbing a steady hill. My knee had been steadily growing tighter, but I was looking foward to this uphill climb because I knee it caused me no discomfort.

Not this time.

My knee began to hurt more running uphill. If it was any consolation, running downhill hurt about the same as uphill. We turned around at an intersection around mile 3.5 and headed back towards the car for water and a GU. My knee was really getting sore, so I stopped and did some stretches Kelly had taught me. They helped for the first few strides, but then the pain came back. My knee was now more sore than it had been all of last week before the massage. This was really not good.

While heading back to the car we ran into the race. Everyone cheered us on and told us good job as though we were the leaders, telling us good job. I began to get angry. Didn't anyone notice we were not wearing bibs? I was in so much pain and had to keep stopping and yet people would cheer for us. I wanted to just disappear. My life felt like it was crumbling down around me and here I felt like I was the center of attention. What a mistake to come to Champoeg on so many accounts. We finally got off the course and back to the car. As Kevin took a Gu, I streteched. We went to the bathroom and after about a 5min break, I decided to give it a go again. My knee felt fine walking and standing. It's as if nothing was wrong.

As we started out, everything felt good. I had a sudden burst of endorphins. Perhaps I had just tightened up again and need to stretch the muscle when it was warmer. That endorphin rush ended real quickly though. Just like before, after about a quarter mile, I got intense pain in my pes anserine area. It picked up just where it had left off, very painful. I pushed through for awhile and then said, "that's it." I stopped and walked back to the car. Kevin walked with me and tried to keep my spirits high by saying "It wasn't painful at at for the first two miles. I had got an aggressive massage directly on the tendons, and they were probably inflamed. I was only upset because I didn't get to run as far as 'I' wanted to, but I still got to run." I tried to believe what he was telling me, but I was so frustrated. How was it worse now? Hadn't the massage done anything to relieve the stress off my knee? Had my form, which I had worked so hard to perfect with Pilates and a slow mileage build up really gone to sh*tter in the last week? Had that one bike ride messed me up this much?

Kevin took off to finish his 23 mile run and I stayed at the car stretching. My knee pain had calmed down so I decided to do what Kelly always suggests when you can't run... I went for a walk. I walked for an hour pain free. Not the slightest twinge. Whenever I thought I was miraculously healed, I would try to jog a little and be in pain right away. As soon as I walked, nothing. Well, at least I knew it wasn't another plica ;).

I got back to the car and Kevin was still running, so I grabbed a blanket out of the trunk and sat down in the grass to stretch. I stretch for about a half an hour. I could tell the insertion of my sartorius into my hip was very sore and tight. I worked at the area for awhile until it completely loosened up. My knee was again feeling better, but decided not to test it again. Kevin finished his run and joined me on the blanket. He told me not to run for the next two days and then see how it feels. We determined that Kelly's massage directly on the inflamed pes anserinus really flared it up and it just needed time to calm down. I believed this theory on the surface, but deep down, I didn't know how this kind of pain would "calm down" in just a few days.

When Wednesday rolled around, I got another massage from Kelly. He did not massage directly on the tendons this time, but rather worked the sartorius, gracilis, and semitendinosus. My sartorius was still very tight, but everything else seemed to be in working order. After the massage he checked my flexibility and I had a much better range of motion in the sartorius with no pain at all in the knee. He suggested a test run in the evening that involved alternating one minute walking and one minute running. I was nervous to try it but went forth anyway since everything was feeling so much better.

I got home from work and changed into my running clothes. I was a nervous mess waiting for my Garmin to locate a satellite. What if this did not go well? Then what? Then were would that leave me? Finally my watch was ready and I headed out the door. The one minute of walking went great. The one minute of running hurt like h@#%. Right from the get-go I was very sore. I conintued with one minute of walking and tried to run again, thinking maybe I just needed to loosen up. Nope. Immediate intense pain. I turned around and walked back home. As any psychotic runner would do, I first blamed my shoes. When I got home I put on a different pair of shoes and headed out the door again. Same problem. Ok, it wasn't the shoes. I was devistated. I called Kelly and told him about the failed running attempt. He said something that would shatter my world,

"I think it might be a stress reaction."

I didn't hear much else after that. After I hung up, I began balling. I called Kevin and told him the news. For the first time, Kevin did not have all the answers. He didn't make any jokes. He didn't tell me everything was going to be fine tomorrow and just sleep on it. He was silent. I excused myself to make a doctor's appointment online to get a proper stress reaction diagnosis. I lucked out and my doctor had an opening Thursday morning. I then made a phone call to two of my girlfriends who wanted an update on how the test run went once I was done. My friend Liisa told me the one thing that really helped. I have climbed a ladder during my training. And I'm the highest on the ladder than I have ever been right now. Just because I step back down a few rungs for a bit, doesn't mean I start again back at the bottom of the ladder.

Thursday morning, I went to the doctor. He listen to my story and then had me do a series of basic diagnostic tests to rule out a meniscal tear or stress fracture. Walking like a duck didn't hurt. Jumping up and down on one leg didn't hurt. But basic walking was about a 2 on the scale of pain and running was a 9. He poked and prodded around the knee and found my patella was tracking correctly and I had no crepitis in the knee. He did notice quite a bit of swelling and localized pain on the pes anserine bursa. He diagnosed it as severe bursitis. He told me one of my options was getting a cortisone injection into the bursa. It would bring rapid relief to the pain and swelling and I could be running again in a few days. I immediately ruled this option out. I know enough to know that anytime you put a needle into a bursa that you have a higher risk of infection.

He believed with rest, cross training that did not bring on pain, and the use of a special homeopathic oil called "Pain Away" that I would be back running next week. Wow! Wouldn't that be great? If only I could believe it for myself. I went from being completely broken hearted to having faith again. Autumn Leaves was not out of the picture yet. I went home and began a strict regimen of icing, taking Ibuprofen, using pain away and arnica on my knee.

Nothing worked.

(to be continued...)