Countdown to [Hip Labral] Surgery

A shot of novacane inserted into my right hip.

No one likes being injured. I would imagine even fewer people are fans of surgery.

Nearly two and a half years ago, I began experiencing a pain in my right hip that got increasingly worse in a matter of weeks. It came out of nowhere with no event to attribute it to. Suddenly, it hurt to run.

So I stopped running and went back to physical therapy. It was a routine I knew all too well in my distance running career. A few weeks of PT and I'd be back on track to run the Chicago Marathon that fall. Unfortunately that was not the case. I remained in physical therapy for six months returning to the doctor several times with no resolution outside of a possible strained or torn muscle. The marathon came and went. Over time, I moved on from running and focused on yoga. Though my hip continued to bother me at times (periods of long sitting at work, sitting in low chairs, certain yoga poses), I wasn't in severe pain and had accepted this was my way of life.

As more time passed, I missed running. So when my new team at work mentioned earlier this year wanting to start a run club to train for the Corporate Challenge (a 3.5 mile race), I was game. We found a couch to 5K program and started training. It felt good to run/walk and work up a sweat. I was hopeful to run again. Within a few weeks, I was back to the familiar pain I'd experienced before. This time, I had had it. Something was wrong. If Northwestern couldn't get to the bottom of the problem, I would find a doctor and hospital that could. 

A few weeks later, I had an MRI which shown a torn hip labral. Next, appointments with surgeons at Rush and Northshore specializing in hip labral surgery. Both told me the same thing - My hip's genetic structure had lead to a tear in two places of my hip's labral (the cartilage in the hip). The body cannot repair the labral on it's own, so I had two choices - Reduce my activities enough to escape pain (which I had already attempted by not running or limiting yoga over the last two years) or have surgery.

A month later, I had a shot of novacane inserted into my right hip and was then instructed to exercise. I ran. I jumped. I handstanded. I arm balanced. It didn't hurt. I felt like superman. This was a test to see if I would be a good candidate for the surgery.

Shortly after that test, I scheduled surgery for September. In the last few months, I have noticed new causes of pain for the hip outside of exercise. I know it's getting worse instead of better - and it's time to do something about it. 

Over the course of this experience, I have heard a lot of "Well, it's because you ran/marathons." As if that's a valid reason to be in pain. (Why do people say stuff like that?) Truthfully, that is not my case nor the case with many others experiencing this.

Last week, I happened to catch a segment of Good Morning America. I never watch GMA, so it was truly remarkable that I was a captive audience when Lara Spencer's story came on about her hip replacement surgery. It brought me to tears. "It's not just me" was the first thing I thought. Hip injuries happen to young people and they account for 10% of the hip replacement surgeries. 

Though my road to discovery has been a bit long, I am looking forward to recovery and returning to the activities I so miss. One day at a time. 

If you haven't watched Lara Spencer's segment, you can see it here. 

Talking to a Future Marathoner

Last night, I talked with a guy who is training for his first half marathon. He explained his training so far. I tried to offer up tips on recovery weeks, gu and when to buy new shoes. He said he thinks this will be is one and only half, but then later mentioned the marathon.

Each story is unique. We come in all shapes, sizes and ages. We run for different reasons.

This story happens to be mine. All nearly 20 years of it.

In the fall of 1997, I was a freshman in college. That October, I witnessed an incredible event - my uncle ran the Chicago Marathon.

Watching someone you know and love take on a marathon makes the spectating experience a very personal one. First, you're likely on the sidelines scanning for one familiar face. Second, you know this person is not super human. They like Oreos and beer just as much as you do, though maybe not together. Watching this regular person you know run a marathon means that maybe, just maybe, one day you could call yourself a marathoner too.

Somewhere in between the first few miles of that race to when we met him in runner reunite, I'd decided I wanted to run a marathon.

But we all know that talking about doing something is much different than training for something. I ran on and off in college, but not more than a few miles and never with enough regularity to make it habit. I had plenty of excuses why I didn't have time.

After graduating in 2001, I bought my first book on marathon training, the Non Runners Guide to Marathon Training. The title appealed to me as at the time, I would not have called myself a runner. I read most of the book and xeroxed its training plan. That spring, I made my first unsuccessful attempt at training for the marathon. I barely made it through the pre-marathon training program and had hung up any chances of the race by June. Good thing I hadn't registered, I thought.

Though I know now I'd been making a lot of rookie mistakes, I had experienced my first true runner's high. Just enough to want to chase training further over the next few years.

In those early years, I was building knowledge on distance running though I wasn't running long distances. No more cotton socks or running shoes from Kohl's for this girl. I started working with a trainer and doing a mix of lifting and running. Later I introduced yoga.

Three years to the day after I graduated college, I ran my first 5k - a Reindeer Run at a Lifetime Fitness. That experience was rewarding enough to sign up for more 5ks the following spring and summer. The next year, I ran a 10k.

Now in grad school and closing in on ten years since I spectated the marathon, I needed to formulate a plan to make my marathon dream a reality.

I ran a few half marathons in 2007 with varying success. In 2008, I took the plunge and registered for the marathon. I would graduate that spring and felt that the time I'd spent studying for the last four years could now become training time. On an early October 80 degree day, I completed my first marathon.

Through the CARA (Chicago Area Runner's Association) Marathon Training program, I met like-minded runners who became friends. What I thought was a once-in-a-lifetime experience turned into six years of training. Six Chicago Marathons, one Marine Corps Marathon and over twenty half marathons. Distance running became my thing (hence the blog). I have some incredible memories, funny stories and great trips all bound by racing.

Who would have known watching a marathon would lead me down that path. Maybe the guy I talked to last night is next.

What if Everybody Ran?

Have you ever wondered what the world would be like if everybody ran? 

Truthfully, I hadn't. But the ad folks over at Mizuno had. 

I love infographics. Maybe it's the designer in me or the feeling that I'm somehow gaining more information by reading less. Regardless, this small ad I pulled off of Pinterest today has me wondering if all the information could be held true if everybody ran.

Ok, maybe suggesting everyone should run is too lofty of a goal. Some people can't run. Or they really hate running. But what if everyone who could run did? Just a mile a few times a week for starters. It wouldn't have to be fast. They'd just have to complete it. I think we would find members of the group who would find joy in the sport and would increase their mile to two or three. Maybe they would find it relieved stress or made their dog happy. 

And for everyone else. Maybe they really hate running, or, for one reason or another can't. That's ok. "Running" can be transformed into other activities (walking, swimming) to fit everyone's abilities. 

What if everyone's "running" did transform their lives (or their dogs)? 

What if it made our overall quality of life better - What if there were less trips to the hospital, less smoking, and less weight? 

Wouldn't that be pretty amazing?

Finding Time

Oh time...why does the mere thought of saying the word out loud launch me into an overplayed Hootie and the Blowfish song? Since we're already there - as the song says - time, you ain't no friend of mine. (And for the record, Darius Rucker, I really do prefer you as a country artist!)

I'm someone who hates to miss an opportunity, so almost to a fault. I rarely say no. I want to squeeze everything possible into my day, week and month. I don't want to miss anything if that's an option. I believe in getting up early and beating the crowds to a great breakfast spot. To be the first to arrive and the last to leave a theme park. To rise before the sun to run, even if I was out late last night.

I recently saw this graphic on Pinterest and thought it fit my "Burn the candle at both ends" take on life rather well:

Whether you're good or below average creating time, we give preference to our goals. 

Yes, it does take time to train for a marathon. Heck, it takes time to work out period. Whether we're talking a few hours a week or 15, that time can be found regardless of profession, marital status or age. 

Sometimes when I'm at a gathering with some of my running friends, it's interesting to me to think of how different we are. Yet we all have a common fitness goal. We decided that we would run a marathon that year (or a few half marathons, a tri, an ultra, or maybe an Ironman), and we're doing it. No or not possible is not an option, and so, we find time.

Here's to New Year's goals and keeping to them. Welcome, 2014.

Marathon Maniac

Once you've run a few races, you've undoubtedly seen the bright yellow singlets signaling a member of an elite club - Marathon Maniacs.

In my life, I've gotten to know two maniacs (and they just so happen to know each other). 

My friend George recently completed his quest to run a marathon in every state. You might wonder (as I had): "How can someone do that and work?"  Here's where the maniac mentality really comes in to play; George systematically plotted his 50 state journey, sometimes tackling two races in a weekend. I've read Facebook posts over the last year that went something like this - he flew to Wyoming and ran a marathon on Saturday. On Saturday afternoon, he got in a car and drove to South Dokota to run a marathon there the next day. Following Sunday's race, he flew home. 

To close out his roundabout of states, he ran five marathons in five days this summer while raising money for a Greek American charity. 

George is a running machine. A true maniac at a completely different level. As George would say "I Love Running and Running Loves Me."

One of my coworkers used to work with George. She's also completed a marathon in each state. Among other accomplishments, she has run every day for the last few years. Every day. I can't even fathom that. I wonder how many pairs of shoes she goes through in a year...I digress. 

Following the Marine Corps Marathon, I received an email from another co-worker, our Ironman General Counsel. He takes is training pretty seriously and is quite fast, and so, I blush whenever I'm grouped in the same category as him in conversations around the water cooler. Truthfully, he's at a complete different level than me. Maybe one I can aspire to be at if I only didn't love chocolate and beer so much. Then again, that's what's makes this all for fun, right?

His email was brief, but went something like this:

Congrats on your Marine Corps Marathon finish. You've completed two marathons in less than 16 days. That makes you a Marathon Maniac.

Really? I'm a Marathon Maniac? I'm not plotting to run races back to back or in multiple states. Is he sure? Siri, what's the most basic definition of a Marathon Maniac?

BRONZE LEVEL

2 Marathons within a 16 day time frame.
3 Marathons within a 90 day time frame.


And there we have it.  Who knew Jeff and I would accomplish such a feat last year? Actually, this is Jeff's second year running two marathons in 14 days, so it's safe to say he's a two-time Maniac.

http://www.marathonmaniacs.com/are-you-a-marathon-maniac/maniac-criteria

The Day Running Stopped

Over the last six weeks, I've been struggling to explain to myself what happened to the runner in me. I crossed the Marine Corps Marathon finish line and essentially hung up my running shoes.  I've never done that before. 

Around Thanksgiving, I wrote a post explaining the beginning of this experience. How strange it is not to run. Or have a desire to. For the first time in many years, have runners pass me by and I've not been jealous. 

Since that post, I've run zero times.

Does this mean my running career is over? I keep thinking back to the scene in Forrest Gump where he suddenly stops running. 

Maybe this is me (minus the facial hair). 

But today, like any, is a new day. For the first time in a number of days, it's a balmy 29 degrees and the sun is out. To top it off, I'm off work today. 

Maybe today's the day to say hello to running again. I'm going to charge up my Garmin and iPod, then put on my cold weather gear. I'll head down the route I've taken countless times over the last seven years and I'll see what happens. It might be a little bit awkward like a first date, but hopefully running understands that sometimes we need to give it a break. 

November: What a Difference a Month Makes

In an evening, October changed to November. Along with it went my desire to run.

How can someone spend so much time running and then shut it down in a matter weeks? 

When I had this feeling last fall, I decided it was a sign (and time) for a break.

I read up on taking a break from running. Runner's World and other sources recommended it in varying lengths. It seemed like the thing to do, well, or at least try.

Before I could even experiment with a lot less running, I needed to find an activity that could fill my workouts (because in the back of my mind, I was on the path of a Marathon to Couch Program)

So I rode my bike on the bike trainer and got back into a routine with yoga. Some people would say the cross training is enough to do for a period of time. Months even.

But I couldn't let it go completely. I kept with a weekend long run and tried to do a mid-week run to keep with some type of schedule.

This year and very quickly after Marine Corps, the weather changed to winter in Chicago. A few years ago I would have told you the cold weather didn't stop me from getting outside. But I'm singing a different tune this year. I've been getting over to The Lab about twice a week this month. A nice change of pace from running and truthfully some of most challenging workouts I've done in some time.

Last Wednesday was November 27th. A month since the Marine Corps Marathon. Since the marathon, I've run three times. Each effort was a poor existence of a run. Runs in which I wanted them to be over soon after the start. I could blame it on a lot of things, but I think an off season training plan of little running is in order. At least in the short term.

Two weekends ago I headed downtown for a yoga arm balance and inversion seminar. As if I can't find enough injury in running, I'm now finding fascination in poses that cause bruising and falling. I saw a few runners as I drove out to the studio. Normally, I would see a person running and think how I'd like to be running, especially if I hadn't yet that day. But on that day, I was happy to not be running. I really didn't have any desire to. I was more interested in checking out this yoga seminar for the afternoon.

So I'll take that as a sign. We'll see what happens with this not running (or not running very much) thing. It could be good. Maybe the not running thing will allow me to grow in yoga. 

Marine Corps Marathon

Sunday was the day. We had traveled to Washington DC with one goal in mind - to complete the Marine Corps Marathon.

Jen and I woke up around 5. We had breakfast and put on our race outfits before heading to the Metro at 6. We boarded the train to see it filled with other race participants. More got on at each proceeding stop. When the train reached the Pentagon, there was a mass exodus.

 We followed people in front of us up the Metro's stairs, through the exit fare turnstile and up onto the street. It was still dark out as we walked along a road and eventually into a parking lot. The parking lot set up looked similar to other race staging areas, but instead of volunteers, there were Marines. 

We met up with Carl and Jeff before dropping our bags off at designated UPS trucks. From there, we followed the crowd onto a highway which was the race's start corral.

At first glimpse of the field, I could see this race would have a different feel from Chicago. Many participants wore red, white and blue shirts for military and veterans charities. Some had laminated photos safety pinned to the backs of their shirts. Photos of fallen heros. 

The National Athem was sung in a way I've never heard before. It was the perfect accompaniment to the spectacle before our eyes - military veteran skydrivers with large Ameican flags. We were in awe.

Shortly thereafter, the race started. We crossed the start line under the large Marine Corps marathon arches and headed into Roslyn. The course quickly began it's hilly climb in the first few miles. As we headed up the second incline, we saw the first struggling hand cycle participant. The wheelchair and hand cycle participants has started a few minutes ahead of the runners, but the hills proved challenging for many. A few people ran around the hand cyclist helping to clear the way for him as we all continued up the hill. Other participants yelled ahead "make a hole" to which the field parted to make way. As the hand cyclist passed participants, people clapped, cheered and yelled encouraging Marine sayings. 

The participant camaraderie was like nothing I'd ever experienced during this race. It reminded me that the meaning of this race went beyond the 30,000 individuals participating that day. Each aide station was staffed with Marines handing out Fluids and Marine medical staff at first aide. As we continued out of Roslyn and into Georgetown, we saw individuals and small groups of men in Marine fatigues. Some wore full gear. As they passed, other participants gave them words of encouragement or thanks. Once again we were reminded. 

The steep hills in the first few miles lead to smaller hills, and eventually to semi flat land. That is, until there was a bridge to cross. Some areas were heavy with spectators and some were desolate. I remember wondering if the lower level of crowd support might be a downer, but is enjoyed the section through the tree lined streets around the National Zoo. 

We headed back in to Arlington and reached mile 15. Signage appeared on the left side of the road for a charity called "Wear Blue Run to Remember." For a solid mile, signs were placed about every five feet. Each sign stood for a soldier lost in combat. The sign contained a photo, name, home town, unit/base. As we approached the signs, I heard a runner behind me say she was fighting back tears, and soon, so was I. We found a way to run a bit faster that mile. 

We crossed over a bridge and eventually onto the National Mall. We headed towards the Capitol building, rounded a corner, and then headed away from it. We cross the 20 mile mark and kept chugging along. 

Along the way, I saw a few runners who had pinned signs to their shirts about running the Chicago Marathon two weeks ago. I tried to talk with them a bit. Crazy can only seem normal if it finds another crazy, right?

In the last few miles of the race, we crossed over what the race refers to as "Beat the Bridge." Keeping in mind that even moderate hills can seem monstrous as this point in the race, this bridge was a might one indeed. 

We headed into Crystal City, then down the highway we had started on. I prepared myself for the hill I had heard so much about. I had heard it was huge. A half mile, oh no, a mile straight up. And so steep...I'd probably never seen anything like it. As we moved down the highway, barricades and signage appeared. It can't be long now. We turned off the highway and I saw the hill. It was steep, but it wasn't long. And if I was thinking about walking, well, there were Marines, of course. 

As I ran up that final stretch, I tried to look at each and every face in uniform lining the curb. I wondered where they're form. Are they stationed in DC right now? Did they travel far to get here? How did they decide they wanted to be a Marine?  

Then there was a finish arch and the memorial. I was congratulated by several Marines, then presented with my race medal. I was thanked for my support, had the medal placed around my head and then saluted. Again, I teared up. Wow, this is just an incredible day. 

I finished about 12 minutes behind my time in Chicago two weeks earlier. Overall, the 2013 Marine Corps Marathon was my median marathon time of seven. As I walked up to the memorial, I wondered if I could have pushed myself a bit harder. Inspiration was everywhere.

What a great birthday. 

More on Wear Blue Run to Remember

http://www.wearblueruntoremember.org/ 

Thank you to Jeff Reardon for the great photos.

The Big Question

The question of the summer and fall was, could a person of moderate fitness run two marathons in 14 days?

The answer? A surprising yes. 

I wasn't sure, back in the spring, if I would be able to pull it off. So much can happen in training, and they're all things that have happened before - injury, head cold, heat.

The million dollar question was, could a person train for one marathon but, in essence, then run a second, "bonus" marathon? 

Why yes, you can. 

Following the finish at Chicago, I stepped onto unfamiliar ground. Instead of the finish line marking the end of my training, it was instead a highlight in the journey. 

Post Chicago was much like any marathon I've run. I was sore and stiff. After a number of days, I went to yoga to stretch out. All in all I felt good, but like I was carrying lead in my shoes. That Saturday, I went on a 6 mile run. Again, I felt a lot like I knew post marathon week to be. 

Yet I had another marathon on the horizon. 

I was semi-following Hal Higdon's plan of "training in between marathons" but more that that, I was practicing the art of not freaking out. What will be will be. 

Until Jen and I started to set our clothes out the night before, it didn't seem real anyway. I'd never run a marathon outside of Chicago. I was on vacation as far as I knew. 

As morning came, reality came quickly as we grabbed our gear and shuffled to the metro. This was it. Race day two. 

A year ago, this race was just an idea. One that I thought fitting I run. Now I had four friends joining in the experience. 

I had thoughts of uncertainty along with some nervousness, but overall I knew one thing - I would finish. Hopefully, I would finish strong. I would do this because it's what needed to be done. Today wasn't about what I did two weeks ago, it was about the cause today. I would be reminded of that with each mile. 

And so, the four of us stood on an unassuming highway in DC. We heard a perfect rendition do the Star-Spangled Banner as paratroopers jumped out of an airplane with flags strapped to them. We were about to start on one of the most patriotic journeys do our lives. And in that moment, I knew I was ready.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Reardon

Race Day [Chicago Marathon 2013]

Sunday was the day, October 13th.

A day I've trained for 18 weeks for.

Marathon morning.

I laid everything out the night before and slept surprisingly well. Maybe the nerves settle over time as you form a routine with a race.

I walked to the train around 5:30. This year the marathon required that all participants use the expo issued bag for gear check. I walked into the station and up to the platform. It was filled with people carying the same bag. It amazes me to see all these people, likely my neighbors, have all been training for the same race I have. We've run on the same streets for hours over the summer. We are just one section of one neighborhood of Chicago.

The reach of the Chicago Marathon never ceases to amaze me.

I head downtown a bit earlier that morning planning extra time for added race security. I meet up with Jeff and Ann on the train. Jeff and I exit the train and walk into the Chicago Hilton around 6:30. The hotel is a marathon runner mad zone. We run in to one of our pace leaders and reshuffle the items in our gear check bags. The bathroom line is crazy, so we head out to the super secret CARA porta potties. We arrive at the location to no line. Every year I think to myself that having quick access to a restroom this close to the start line is worth it's weight in gold.

Shortly after 7 we are set up in Corral G. The 7:30 wave starts, but we're too far away to hear the gun go off. There's a good 20,000 runners in front of us. The mass moves forward and the Start line structure grows larger. By 8:08, we've crossed the start line.

From the start line on out, much of the race is a blur. I feel good. Jeff and I are talking as the miles click away. We see my Mom, uncle and Dave at a few locations on the North Side. On the way back south, we see my friend Sara. We maintained our pace well back through downtown and the out and back west.

Through UIC is where my body started to realize we were nowhere close to done. We kept up a good pace in the next few miles. During this time, I began to feel cramping coming on in my left foot. I've had this feeling while sitting or sleeping, but never while running. As we pass mile 21, the cramping is growing more pronounced to where I'll have to walk it off. Our pacing has been great up to this point. We're on pace to break last year's PR by eight minutes. I look to Jeff and tell him to keep going. He should PR today. I don't want to hold him back with whatever my foot has going on.

Kim jumps in with me through mile 25. That's where the best laid plans can fall apart. I am always so grateful to have her there on Archer. She tells me the runner tracking system hasn't been working well this year. We talk in small spurts about how I feel, how the elites did (they've been finished for hours by now), funny posters we saw, and keep working our way through miles 22-25. I walk through the aid stations and any time my foot ceases up.

During this time, I continue to switch my watch back and forth between current pace and overall time. I'm checking in to see if I can still make it in under last year's time. I watch the minutes pass until I realize it's not possible. Then, for a short time, I'm mad. I should have been able to do this. Then I realize what I'm doing to myself. I'm running a marathon. I have trained for months for these 4.5 hours today. I've been looking forward to it. Now I'm spending time being mad at myself for not PR'ing? Seriously? Why do I even care that much? I flush these thoughts away and focus on the positive. I'm doing this. Every step I'm closer to done, no matter how I get there.

As we reach the final mile, Kim turns off the course and I continue north on Michigan. One more mile. I can do this. After I finish this mile, I don't have to run for awhile. There will be beer at the finish. I inch up the Roosevelt bridge until I can see the Finish line just around the corner. Suddenly I can run a bit faster until my foot hits the sensor mats.

Finished. Chicago Marathon 6. 

Marine Corps Marathon Video

In the unlikely event that I wasn't excited enough or had my doubts about the Marine Corps Marathon, this video provides all the confirmation I need:



Bring it. I just hope my road to recovery puts me in a good position for a week from Sunday.

In Between Races

This year, I'm mixing things up.

I waiver between thinking my change of pace is completely awesome or completely and utterly dumb.

I've registered for two marathons...14 days apart.

The Chicago Marathon is this Sunday, October 13th. I'm proud to say this is my hometown marathon. 

When I first started training for a marathon, my goal was to run Chicago once. I was inspired to run Chicago after watching my uncle run the race while I was in high school. Talk about a memory that has lasted nearly a lifetime.

I've thought about not running Chicago. I could, per say, run a marathon somewhere else. Maybe another big city marathon. But the thing that always brings me back is what a great, I mean fantastic, race Chicago is. How can I not run Chicago when it's so damn convenient? 

It would be like me telling you I don't like the new Trader Joe's location in Evanston. It has everything every other TJ's has but its in my backyard. No more traveling to Lakeview or Glenview for my Orange Chicken, Mango Salsa, Cookie Butter and everything else uniquely Trader Joe's that I now cannot live without. Location is key. Being in my car less makes me happy. Big win for TJ's Evanston (even if your parking lot is sort of a nightmare).

No really, Chicago truly is an outstanding race.  One in which I am lucky enough to sleep in my own bed the night before, jump on the same train I take often to work and can navigate downtown better than any other city. Huge pluses, er stars. 

So when Chicago's registration opened in February, I was one of the lucky few who got in without registration issues. Chicago Marathon #6 was confirmed. 

A number of weeks later, registration for the Marine Corps Marathon opened. This was the race I had my eyes on this year. Though the registration process proved challenging, I had a registration confirmation before the race sold out. 

And then, back in March, suddenly I had two marathons two weeks apart. 

So, to the question everyone is asking me - How are you training in between?

Well, that's a great question. One in which I've done maybe a half hour of research on so far. My first source was Hal Higdon. Hal's the man. His training programs have gotten me through five marathons and probably two dozen halves, so if he says he has a plan for two marathons two weeks part, I'm just going to go with it. One day, after my thirty minutes of research concluded, I wrote down the run schedule on a napkin and pinned it to my cork board in my office. Very official. 

I've talked with a few friends who've done multiple marathons in a condensed period, including my friend George, a man who knocks out two marathons in two states in a weekend on a regular basis. The wisdom passed along to me so far has been to pick one race as my goal race.  The other is just for fun. What if goal race and fun effort are the same? I'm trying to wrap my head around that. 

My plan thus far goes something like this. Run Chicago. Don't die. Don't get sick. Don't get injured. Run a smart race (mainly this means listen to your body - my body doesn't like heat). Drink beer after crossing finish line and start honing in on best recovery practices for 13 days. Go for a long massage the next day. Maybe another before boarding the plane to DC. Drink lots of fluids. Stretch. Try to jog it out like Hal instructed. Attend a moderate yoga class (tone down the arm balances or inversions at The Lab if needed). Eat a lot and anything I want, cause, I just bought myself two more weeks of it. 

The end. 

Let's see how this works (or doesn't). 

Race Spectators & Support Crew

There's a lot to be said about training and racing (I think that goes without saying from someone who blogs weekly about it).

But one important aspect that I have written very little about to date is the spectator.

What would a race be with no spectators? I can tell you it's not a race I'd want to participate in.

Spectators can make two races on the same course feel different. They create an uplifting and inspirational vibe, often right when I'm feeling far from inspirational.

I may have gotten up early on race day to participate in the race, but those people on the sidelines, they got up early to cheer someone on. They could have stayed in bed. They probably have many things on their to do list. But on that morning, they made their way to the race site, grabbed a cup of their favorite coffee and established camp somewhere along the sidewalk. For the next hour to few hours, they have dedicated and volunteered their time to cheer.

From the Boystown Cheerleaders on the north side to the block party through Pilsen, spectators make every mile of the race different, just like the City we live in. 

They bring along balloons, funny signs and crafty comments. All are a distraction from the task at hand, so I welcome it, well, almost all of it. I have to fight back the urge to correct the guy at mile 20 who tells me I'm "almost there." Almost where? I barely know my name right now, where am I going? Or the ones who give false information about how far to go. I know they're trying to be helpful. But right then, in that moment, it takes everything in me to not correct them.

My Mom has spectated every marathon I have ever run. My Dad and best friend are right behind her. My boyfriend and a list of friends have been a great group of support as I've ran around Chicago in the last five years.

I've never known a marathon to be any other way.

What would it be like to run knowing there was no one out there trying to pick me out of the pack? It's a truly foreign concept, but yet, I'll find out in a few weeks in Washington D. C.

Bus Driver Cherio

Variety is the spice of life, and so, I create variety with how I travel to work.

My routine changes in waves, though I don't particularly relate it to traffic, the Cubs home game schedule or preference. 

When I feel like being an outgoing commuter, I ride my bike. Seriously, how cool is it that I can do that? Surprisingly, I can do it in about the same amount of time it takes people to drive the same route. I get exercise, didn't use gas and feel like a bad ass. 

Then there's the train. The train is solid. It also smells like piss sometimes. Though I appreciate the train for what it is, I think I've worked through any nostoglic connection to it after I hit a million rides on it. 

Finally, there's the bus. More specially, the 147 on weekday evenings. I routinely pick up the bus off of Michigan Avenue within a 20 minute window. More often than seems possible, I end up with a bus driver I'll just call Cherio.

He is awfully happy to be driving a bus which is a pleasant surprise. He takes his role seriously and acts as a cruise director while navigating the bus back up north. He uses the intercom system on the bus to provide traffic updates ("the drive looks like a mess. Get comfotable!"), call out stops (even though the CTA voice has been taking care of that function for 15 years) and gives rider reminders ("make sure you're not leaving anything on the bus!").

The last comment should go without saying, right? Who leaves stuff on the bus? Well, last week, that person was me. I left my backpack on the 147 bus. It had a variety of items in it including my running shoes. 

In what I can only call a stroke of luck or good karma, I was reunited with my backpack the next day. Not one item was missing from it. 

So Mr. Cherio Bus Driver, keep on with your announcements. You know better than I what we need on the commute home. Thank you for reaffirming that there are still good people out in the world. 

I Hate Running. I Love Running.

Last week, I was driving to work down Lake Shore Drive. For a short while, I was behind a Volvo SUV which had the following sticker on it's window:

I smiled at the sight of it. Ok, I thought. I get it. You're sick of seeing the patchwork of 13.1, 26.2, 70.3 and 140.6 stickers on proud endurance athletes' vehicles. Or, quite simply, you really hate running.

I hear "I hate running" or "I would run, but I'm not a runner" a lot. Let me first say that I don't believe every person should run. I believe each person has to be focused on living an active and healthy life, and thus, should find an activity that they enjoy doing. If golf, tennis or Pilates is your thing, go do it and do it a lot. Do anything that gets you moving.

My relationship with running is a love/hate one. I think most runners would say the same. How can you possibly love it all the time? Sometimes you hate it - you have a bad run, an injury. And then (hopefully a short time later), you rekindle your romance with it.

I don't believe I was born a runner. I disliked running most of childhood. Even in high school I didn't like running - and I was on the track team. I had to decide that maybe running was ok before I started running, for lack of a better word, fun. It was a number of years after that before I fell in love with running and would call myself a runner.

Through the highs and lows, life carries on. As does your relationship with running. Maybe the "I hate running" people's journeys will evolve in time, too.

To Jam or not to Jam?

For as long as I can remember, I've loved music.

Vinyl albums as a young child and cassette tapes in grade school. Then came along the dual cassette player (and the ability to create a mix tape). CDs in junior high and high school. CD burners and MP3's in college.

I remember bringing my cherry red GE walkman to elementary school. I'd received it as a Christmas gift from my aunt and uncle along with my first Madonna tape. When recess time came, I walked around listening to music instead of hanging out with other kids. It was handy on the bus throughout high school, too.

In college the no-skip Discman was a backpack utility as I walked to and from class. Not to mention a great aide as I labored for hours in the design and photo labs.

 

The digital music player invention changed the way many of us worked out. Being mobile with music was no longer any different than moving around the world without it. Your digital music player could be Velcro'd around your arm and provided an hour or two of music (and unlike it's predecessor, no skipping).

Today, the iPod (or iPhone) has become as much a part of the runners outfit as shorts and shoes. So the question of this post still remains - Do you run with music or without? And it's ok if you say both.

Throughout my training career, I've come and gone in waves with music. There's certain activities where you can't have music (cycling, yoga and swimming), some where you can (lifting, running) and others where it's a gray area (races).

My current habit is to run with music when I'm running alone and run without music when running with someone. I seem to get the best of both worlds this way. My latest playlist keeps me moving during those early morning weekday solo runs. Then I enjoy catching up with a friend or discussing our breakfast plans with the CARA training group.

If I ran with music all the time, I'd probably catch less of each conversation. There would be a lot of jokes and happenings I would have missed over the last eight or so years. Those moments created memories which created friendships.  I may have missed an important safety notice on the lakefront path like "bike back" or "group passing" which could have led to yet another avoidable injury.

 So, though music and I have had a lifetime love affair, I'm going to use it sparingly while running.

Morning Run Motivation

August begins tomorrow. What comes with the month of August? The continuation of marathon training.

I gathered a few quotes from Pinterest to help keep training going on the right foot (or left perferably, in my case):

One for those early Saturday mornings:

For those August and September mid-week 8 and 10 milers:

To stay focused and dedicated:

 Running clears the mind:

The Big Hill of the North Side

Did you know there's a big hill on the North Side of Chicago?

Before I tell you about it, I'll need you to get into my frame of mind as I approach the bottom of the mountain (ok, maybe it's just a big hill?):

I'm in the last quarter mile of a run varying from 5 to 18 miles. It's likely warm and humid. My body and mind are probably not at 100%.

My terrain in the run so far (not including the North Avenue bridge) has been flat. I love Chicago for that.

I've spent anywhere from the last 50 minutes to 3 hours running. I'm probably ready to be done. I've consumed a relatively large quantity of water and Gatorade, not to mention Gu. A discussion has already happened about brunch (and I've decided what I'm having). A conversation on the topic of bodily fluids likely happened. On the smell meter, I'm somewhere between moderately offensive to homeless man on the El. 

I'm thinking of the big sigh I will let out as I lay in my bed an hour from now, freshly showered and full of post-run kibble. It will be glorious.

We turn off the main lakefront pathway and onto the spur that goes closer to the lakefront. The group gears up for Cricket Hill which comes into sight as we clear the viaduct. The group leaders yell something motivational about taking the hill so we don't wuss out.

Then we take on Cricket Hill. 

 

photo courtesy of emmers712.blogspot.com

The rationale is that if you run up Cricket Hill at the end of each long run then you'll have no problem with Roosevelt Street Bridge at the end of the Chicago Marathon. 

The strategy's worked for me, so I guess I'll keep on truckin' up the hill.  

Sometimes the hill comes easy. But most of the time, at least in my experience, it owns me. I get to the top of it short of breath and out of gas. Why is it that I do this? Yet I continue to do it, group run after group run. If running it once a week between June and September isn't enough, sometimes I hit it on a Wednesday mid-week run or on the off season as it's covered in snow. 

The duel between Cricket Hill and I continues (and I'll try to forget there's hill's in D.C.).

Running in Another Man's Shoes

As a senior in high school, I was a witness to an incredible event. My uncle ran a marathon. I remember it so well. He seemed to run effortlessly. He would pick my grandparents, my aunts and my mom out of the crowd of thousands lining the streets. We followed him with amazement.

He was the first person we knew to ever run a marathon.

He went on to run two marathons after that first in Chicago.

When I got into running, he became a great resource for any question I had.

Years later, we ran the Shamrock Shuffle together.

As life happens, sometimes we move away from one thing to pursue another. I don't think many people, at least not us middle of the pack runners, throw ourselves a running retirement party. Instead, something happens one day or year that changes our path - a new job, family, a baby, or maybe less inspirational, like an injury or new found boredom with the sport. Regardless of what the reasoning may be, a lot of us have been there or will go there one day.

So back to my uncle's story.

This past week, we traveled a long, long way south on quite possibly the most boring highway in the United States to see my Grandma. Illinois is a different world south of I-80, and it's a complete culture change as you approach Kentucky. Life is slower there. Cell phones barely work. There's no internet. For a few days, we spend time talking, sitting on the deck, eating and drinking. I find it relaxing on these trips to go on a shorter run on at least one of the mornings. I can run for four miles and see three cars. A big change from Sheridan Road.

One morning, I laced up my running shoes and headed out down a road which is named only by the material it's made out of and a number. I saw one farmer, seven cows, a deer, a fisherman, and two pick up trucks during my four mile run.

When I returned to the house, instead of rushing inside to change and get ready for work, I was able to spend some time stretching on the deck overlooking the lake. It was during this time that my uncle passed by me. He asked how my run was and how far I'd gone. I showered shortly thereafter and had a second breakfast.

A short while later, I was sitting outside with a small group including my uncle. He asked what size shoe I wore. I smiled. I knew where he was going with this. "My running shoes are an 11" I replied, which sparked a quick conversation about women's to men's sizing. Then I was asked if I had a pair of socks and maybe a pair of shorts? Lucky for him, I'm the build of the average man, so sizing was working out in his favor.

Shortly thereafter, he was suited up in my gear and off on the roads. He returned some time later saying that the shoes were a bit snug, but it felt good to get out there.

Welcome back to running, Mark.

Fearless

Remember when you were fearless?

You know, when you were a kid and you were willing to try things without worrying about the consequences?

Back before fashion woes, make up, or attraction to the opposite sex?

Before you were concerned about falling, a potential of hurting yourself or failing?

Can you think of a moment?

I found myself going back to middle school last night as I stared down an unassuming white wall in a yoga studio. Our instructor went over the set up for a handstand as I tried to reason with myself.

My first reaction was fear, and with it came anxiety and less confidence and physical stability. We were being asked to stay in the moment as we're tasked to do in yoga. Instead I went back there. Into the Rolodex of my memory to my last handstand. Where was I the last time I did a handstand? The truth is, I probably don't remember the very last handstand I did. It was probably something unassuming as a youth. Little did I know it would be my last one. I don't think any of us think that way as kids though.

What I did remember was doing handstands against the bookcase in my parents family room.

So I stood there staring down the wall and asking myself 'How did I used to do this?'

Then I tried. The worst that could happen was to fall and take out the girl next to me. That wouldn't be ideal, but I should proceed with that risk rather than watch others succeed because they were less fearful than me.

I tried a dozen or so times until I finally got the right momentum to get both legs up. Once I did it, I was able to hold myself there. I wondered, how tall was I the last time I did this? How much did I weigh? Most importantly, why did I stop doing this? This is fun. Certainly more fun than sitting on a couch or in an office chair. Why wouldn't I still be doing this?

Photo credit: crazybreather.blogspot.com