This is a good omen to me.  I bore witness to the last new day of the year that I am thrilled to say, is over.

I drove to the trailhead to meet the gang for the usual Saturday Morning Run.  I arrived, parked the car, and decided not to run.  Simple as that.  I didn’t have it in me to battle 40 mph winds and brave the cold.  After saying a quick hello and goodbye I headed back home, just in time to see the sunrise.  I pulled over and snapped a few pictures, glad that I was warm in my car and headed into the arms of a hot cup of coffee.

the last sunrise of 2011

Now, it’s 10:00 on New Year’s Eve and all is quiet. Okay I lied. Just heard a cough from my son’s room. And a little moan. But other than that, there is a whole lotta quiet around here.

Both kids are sick with the flu and my dog is having a little holiday over at the Emergency Vet Hospital this weekend. I’m sipping tea to combat the tickle in my throat and the slight pressure in my ears.

Tonight we talked a little about setting goals for the New Year, and we made a few notes as we sat down to watch an episode of Glee and sip chicken soup. One of my goals is to take my kids on some serious, kick-ass vacations. I spent a good part of my day calendaring workshops that I’ll be teaching this year, and figuring out where my breaks would fall. This year, I’m committed to taking my kids on more than 3-day camping trips. This year, we’re going to get out and see something of the world.

This year, I’m also committing to taking care of myself. This means getting a massage when my muscles are screaming, or making time to get to a yoga class when my brain and body have disconnected and I desperately need to reattach myself. It means making time to pop in on friends and have a cup of coffee. It means making my life simpler so I don’t have to move so fast. Mostly, it means slowing down.

Over the year just about everyone that knows me well has commented on how fast I make things happen. Apparently I am a master at changing things up and resetting the track that I’m on.

This year, I don’t want to speed things up. I don’t want to go faster, run harder, or squeeze more activity into my world. My world is really full as it is. What I would really like is to slow things down. I want to be more present for my kids. I think I can do this when I have my work and financial situation more secured. Therefore I’m going to spend the time necessary on those pieces, so that I can get them into place and then focus more fully on the people that I would give my life for.

So that’s it. My New Year’s Resolutions are pretty simple, actually. Keep going forward, slow down, work hard, play hard, and love fiercely.

That’s all I got. I won’t be ringing in the New Year at midnight. With any luck I’ll be asleep and won’t get woken up to the sound of someone coughing or puking.

Sleep tight, ya’ll. Happy New Year. See you on the other side.

I tweaked something in my legs recently, but kept running through it, figuring that the pain was only temporary.  More foam rolling, more stretching, more sleeping… for what?  So that I could post runs on DailyMile and see the numbers get higher?  So that I could assure myself that I’m a REAL runner, not some fly-by-night who just likes the clothes and gadgets but can’t make a real commitment?

I dunno.  The tipping point came when a friend, a husband (mine), a sports PT and a sports massage therapist all told me the same thing; sit down, shut up, and stop running until it stops hurting.

Now, to be fair, no one told me to stop moving altogether.  It’s just the linear running motion they want me to cut back on.  Cross training and easy stretching is fine, just don’t try to beat any records.  Easy is the key word in all of this mess.

When I think back on when the symptoms started, all I can think is “Marathon”.  I haven’t fully healed from the race and I’ve started a new training program.  I have high aspirations for the spring, and none of my goals have anything to do with sitting still.  I want to run a FAST half-marathon at the end of March, and six weeks later I want to do a super-cool 25-mile trail run in Buena Vista, CO.

My friend held the magic mirror up to my face the other day and said, “Do you want to be a February champion or a race champion?”  I didn’t really know what she meant, so she explained.  A “February champion” is someone who doesn’t let the down-time happen, doesn’t take advantage of the off-season, doesn’t let her body rest.  A race champion takes advantage of the off-season, lets her body rest, and rebuilds in time for the race.

The great big elephant in the room is the fact that I’m horrible at resting.  I really like running.  A lot.  I love the different seasons, the way the trail under my feet feels, the way the sun shines down on my sweaty face.  I adore the movement, the motion, the meditation of running.  I don’t get that anywhere else, and I crave it like water.

I’m going to cut back for the next week or so, and see how things feel.  I’m being told to cross-train and keep the mileage really low.  This will all give sore, achy muscles time to relax.  Now, if only I can get my brain to relax at the same time… that’s the tricky part.

Sometimes we think one thing and it takes hearing the same message several times, packaged in different ways, before we pay attention.  I’m no different from the rest of the average population; I need to hear a message many times before I’m willing to listen to it, especially if that message is anything different than what my little heart desires.

My heart and soul desire running.  I am a runner, pure and simple.  I am also human.  I need to rest and I’ll say it here; I don’t want to.  I want to run.

The body was not on board.  Let’s be totally frank about that and say that any thoughts I had of pushing for speed and strength were about to be blown away.  I have some residual soreness in my right leg from the marathon, and try as I might to ignore it, when I push a workout too far, the hamstring, glute, IT band and quad start talking.  The entire leg is cranky if it decides I have not been “nice”.

Saturday’s long run at the Res was 12 miles at an average 8:24 pace.  There were hills, and we took a few miles at a sub-8 pace.  Over the past two days I’ve stretched, foam rolled, stretched, etc., and had Bill dig into the hamstring to work a few knots.  But still… it’s sore.

I laced on the heart-rate monitor this morning and powered up the Garmin after a quick foam rolling session in the living room.  Then I went outside and said a surprised hello to the wind.  Oh wind, you can be the bane of my existence sometimes.  While I waited for the Garmin to finish syncing, I did a rapid mental tour of my planned route; yup, I would be doing hill repeats directly into the wind.  The only way I could do them with the wind at my back would be to drive to another hill, and I didn’t have time for that.  Okay Runner Girl, hills and wind it is.  Go.

After a super-slow mile warm-up from my house to Tyler Street, I was ready.  The hill is about a third of a mile long, approximately half a kilometer.  My goal was simple: run up the hill for a quarter of a mile, then walk back down and do it again.

After clearing the warm-up mile off the Garmin and resetting it to zero (I wanted to be sure to get the splits for the hill), I took off up the hill.  It’s great to have a goal like “hit a 5k-10k pace on the hill”, but honestly, with the wind and a sore hamstring, I was just happy to be running.  The pace would be whatever I could pull out.  Period.

Each repeat was hard.  The first minute of each repeat wasn’t a big deal, but then I started to slow down and had to push, push, push up the rest of the hill.  Between sets I walked down the hill and watched the sun shimmy its way closer to the horizon.  By the time I finished the fifth repeat, the sun was highlighting wispy clouds in the sky, offering texture to a black that had looked wide and impenetrable just minutes before.  My hamstring was not quite screaming at me like an on-coming temper tantrum, but it was definitely screwing up its face and getting into position.  I bagged the last repeat and slowly ran home.

Splits for 5×400 meter hill repeats (into a headwind):

1:57, 1:53, 1:57, 2:01, 2:04

This translates into a pace per mile of 8:14-8:40, approximately 45-60 seconds slower than target pace.

There’s not much to say about that, other than this is training.  This is practice.  It’s good to have a goal, but that goal didn’t say anything about sore hammies and a headwind.  I’m back at home now icing the hammie, foam rolling glutes, quads, IT Bands, calves and back, and doing gentle stretches on the hamstrings.

I’m at another crossroad.  I can either give up the speed training to heal the body, or I can gently work with the body as I train.  I’m learning new ways of cross training (aqua jogging!!) and this seems like an ideal time to get into the pool and do some no-impact workouts.  I CAN run, I WANT to run, I WILL run… but I also insist upon health and sustainability.  I want to be running when I’m 80.  I’m applying the principles of rest and recovery I learned during marathon training, and am incorporating the different stretches and strengthening exercises various people have taught me.

Why am I still running?  Because I love it.  I love the motion, the fluidity, the feeling of oxygen being sucked deep into my body and caressing my lungs before being expelled again.  I love running slow when my body is still warm from the bed, and how awake and alive I am after completing a 7 mile run sixty minutes later (think of that Zest soap commercial, where they guy sleepwalks to the shower, gets in under the warm water, smells the soap and perks right up like he’d just had a shot of adrenalin).

And now, to further my rest and recovery, I’m about to learn how to play Super Mario Brothers with my 8-year-old who’s sick at home with a gooby nose.  I’ll be the one on the floor stretching my legs!

“My body betrayed me.”

“This body’s limitations are not ME.”

“My will is stronger than this body… I can push myself farther and faster because I WANT IT.”

I say these things.  And I shouldn’t.  Because like it or not, my body is a part of me.  I don’t always like it.  And therein lies the problem.

My soul is healthy, passionate, curious and intuitive.  My body hurts, twinges, aches and at times, has pain.  It is mortal.  I want to disassociate from my body.  My mind wants to fly far, far away.  Often times, I don’t want to be in the present, and I especially don’t want to FEEL.

How sad.  There are so many opportunities in this life to FEEL.  Pain is real, but so are emotions.  Sometimes my face literally hurts from the perma-grin when I am ecstatically, wondrously happy or content.  I can’t and wouldn’t ever want to disassociate from the physical reminder of my happiness, just as I never want to forget those exquisite moments when my emotions and body work in perfect harmony to create that feeling of JOY.

Pain is different.  As a culture we’ve worked so very hard to stop any feeling of pain.  Having a baby?  Here’s an epidural.  Headache?  Pop an aspirin.  Feel sad?  Prescribe an antidepressant.  Break up with your boyfriend?  Drinks are on me.  Not only do we want to erase the feeling of pain, we actually want to erase all feeling.  Numbness is the only solution.  And then we mistake numbness for happiness.  Only when there is an absence of feeling can we relax.  We have completely separated from our bodies.

I wrote “Training Pause” a few days ago, and several wise people have written comments or emailed me personally about the forced break.  The words are varied, but the message is the same.  Take time.  Rest.  Recover.  Be good to your body.  Let your mind relax.  This happens to endurance runners. Feel the pain.  Feel the unsettled feeling that comes from waking up at 5am and NOT going out to run.  Sit with the stir of energy that wants to whirl you around like a hummingbird.  Be in your body.  Connect.

It’s the last word that’s the hardest.  Connect with a body that has aches and pains and its own needs?  My soul has needs and desires, but my body too?  How do I reconcile those things?  What if we’re not compatible?  Can I get a divorce and find a body that’s more in line with my soul?

No.  This isn’t dating.  This is what a true partnership is, and the old marriage vow comes to mind; “…through thick and thin, for better or worse, til death do us part…”

I can either choose to have a better relationship with my body, to work on understanding its needs, to nourish it, to baby and shower it with love and compassion, or I can punish it with every ounce of loathing and neglect my pathetic soul can dish.

If I’m capable of loving my own body, then it seems reasonable that I will be better able to have compassion for another person’s body and soul as well.  Love and compassion start here, with this one person.  When I’ve managed that one, then I can branch out.  Only then.

Marathon training has taken me into uncharted territory.  I’m trying new things, running farther and longer than I’ve ever run before, learning about rest, nutrition and balance, and discovering and feeling things that have probably been sitting dormant in the dark recesses of my psyche and soul for lifetimes.  I’ve struggled with trust over the years, and I’m coming to see that my reticence to trust others goes deeper… I’m scared to trust myself.  My body has wisdom that I’ve tried to ignore for much of my life, telling me truths about my capabilities and relationships that I didn’t want to believe.

I’m being told to Connect.  Connect to my body.  Let my mind and body come into balance.  Feel the pain of the body with the mind, and notice where the minds’ pain resides in the body.  Only then will I go further. I felt betrayed on Sunday when I was forced to stop running because I disassociated from my body.  My mind had an agenda my body couldn’t manage.

I rest so that I may run again.  When I take those first steps after this recovery period, I hope I’m a wiser person, a person who runs because the mind and body have consciously agreed that it’s a worthwhile activity.

During Sunday’s planned 20 miler, the second 20 miler on my training schedule for CIM, I had to quit running after 13 miles.  My left knee was killing me and my right IT Band wasn’t far behind.   I couldn’t hold pace, bonked every 30-35 minutes and had to refuel with Hammer Gel when low blood sugar gave me a headache and dizziness due to zapped glycogen stores.  If that wasn’t enough, severe GI troubles sent me into the tall weeds twice, even though I had taken care of business before starting the run.  This was the epitome of a crap-tastic run that wasn’t in the cards.

I hit the two-hour mark at mile 13 and finally stopped, something I should have done four miles prior when the pain exploded.  Not knowing if this was a “push through it and finish” or “stop before you tear something” sort of situation, I dug out my cell phone and got advice from an athlete friend who is rehabbing a serious case of patellar tendonitis in her own knee.  I was told in no uncertain terms to stop running before I do any more damage and create more micro-tears in the muscle.

The 1.5 mile walk back to the car was wrought with emotion.  I was an hour away from my planned finish time and a full seven miles shy of the total mileage I was supposed to complete.  Both legs hurt in various places and my tummy was in an uproar.  I felt like the lamest piece of cake to walk around the Boulder Reservoir, especially since there was an adventure race happening that very day; 24 Hours…the Run.  People had been looping around Boulder Rez for 21 hours when I quit my piddly 13-mile run.  Talk about feeling like a lightweight.

All comparisons aside, I could feel that things were spiraling out of control.  Friday’s run of 12 miles was a walk in the park with zero pain, because I had rested for two days prior.  My muscles were fresh and glycogen stores weren’t tapped.  Saturday’s 5-mile recovery run was fine, with just a little patellar achiness that was easy to ignore once my muscles were warm.  But Sunday’s run, taken after the cumulative effects of the previous two days, was a disaster.  My muscles were shot and the low glycogen stores in my body contributed to the winning combination of slamming me against The Wall time and time again.  Eventually, I stopped bouncing.

I woke up this morning with one word in my head; BETRAYED.  I feel totally betrayed by my body.  My will power can’t get me through this one.  I have a goal, desire, support systems, the time and the tenacity to accomplish a training plan and get me to the Finish Line of CIM, but my body is rebelling.  And that, my friends, is a betrayal.  I thought we were in this together.

Coach Gwen wants me to lay off running for a full week at the very minimum, and all exercise for at least four days.  I’m seeing Bob Cranny of Altitude Physical Therapy on Thursday for a full evaluation of my issues, and will have a better idea of my current challenges after that.  Gwen said that after the appointment she’ll rework my training plan to take into consideration whatever program he wants me to implement to get my strength back.

I’m seeing Jennifer of Dragonfly Acupuncture on Tuesday, and we’ll discuss my diet, Leaky Gut issues, and how my low-carb (read: NO CARB) diet is affecting my glycogen stores.  She told me at the beginning of marathon training that because of the intensity of the exercise and how much I would need to refuel on a daily basis, we could really only hope to maintain my current level of digestion.  We could not hope to improve the situation until after the marathon, when my activity level could be curtailed and true healing could begin.

The body is a miraculous machine, but it has its limits.  Athletes regularly push to find those limits, and then work quietly each and every day to expand the limits.  Today, I’m seeing what my physical limits are.  My body has reached its capacity to endure more training and work, and my spirit is being forced to honor the limitations.  I’m not happy about it; truth be told, I’m pretty cranked.  I’m being forced to rest, forced to be quiet, forced into inactivity.   Gwen talked to Bill yesterday when I was in the shower, and apologized to him for forcing me to rest; “It’s going to be like living with a caged animal,” she told him.

The only thing I can hope for is that this period of quiet will lay the groundwork for healing my body.  Maybe the inflammation in my muscles at intestines will diminish.  I might actually gain a pound or two back, which would be a good thing.  The stress on my body will cease and I might actually be able to come back stronger.

I don’t know what Jennifer and Bob will tell me, but by the end of the week I’ll have a plan of action.  That being said, I still feel betrayed.  I’m not a hypochondriac.  I’m not a quitter.  I have goals, dreams and a serious passion for living that doesn’t like being reminded of the limits of the human body, specifically mine.

My right hip is notoriously weak; eighteen years ago, while hiking through the muck of a Costa Rican rainforest during Winter Break in college, my sacrum was pushed severely out of alignment from the constant pushing and pulling of my feet through the mud of the soft ground.  I didn’t notice the injury until we were seated on the bus several hours later.  When I sat with my butt firmly against the seat of the bus, the right leg was an inch and a half shorter than the left.  It took 24 hours and a LOT of tears, twisting, pulling and stretching to pop the leg back to its normal position.  Ever since then the sacrum and adjoining tissue are much weaker than their left side counterparts.  The gluteus maximus on the right side is weaker, and the right hip joint doesn’t have as much flexibility.

Over the years my athletic tendencies have strengthened that side so that I don’t notice the deficiency unless I’m doing yoga.  Then, every muscular deficiency comes out in blazing glory and I literally fall over when trying to hold certain poses that require strength and stability in the right hip.  My body has compensated for the weakness over the years.

“Stemming from the fibers in the gluteus maximus, gluteus medius and tensor fascia latae muscles, the IT band wraps around the leg, becoming the thickest on the outside of the thigh as it travels down to the knee and attaches near the knee joint.” Runner Times

During the past two weeks the IT Band on my right leg is starting to whine.  Nothing hurts until approximately nine miles into a run, then WHAM.  Owie.  I’ll stop and stretch the leg, then continue on my run.  The stretching helps for about a minute, then the soreness is back again.  It starts with tightness at the outer edge of my knee, and after a mile or so, the right glute will chime in with either fiery pain or complete numbness that feels like someone is pushing their fist into the large muscle right behind my hip.  As soon as I stop running, the pain goes away.  This is a classic case of ITBS, also knows as Iliotibial Band Syndrome.

I’ve asked several people in the athletic community for advice, and I’ve heard a resounding vote for “stretching” and “foam roller”.  These are both things I’ve been doing on a daily basis, spending about sixty minutes in small increments throughout the day on both these activities.  My intuition tells me that the issue probably started because I wasn’t cross-training or strengthening those muscles in a balanced way.  So, I did some further research.

Running Times ran an article by Mackenzie Lobby on IT Band issues and prevention exercises.  He interviewed a doctor and found that “research… shows that only 12 percent of runners have a tight IT band. Interestingly, he also discovered that 80-90 percent had weak hip stabilizing muscles.” Well, this is me in a nutshell.  So the question remains; what do I do about it?

Dr. Ferber of the Running Injury Clinic has injured runners do the following exercises.  There are more than can be done, but in Mackenzie Lobby’s article, he identified these as the most important:

“1. Hip Abductor Strengthening: Tie a theraband around an immovable object. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart next to the object. Wrap the band around the ankle of the leg furthest from that object, with the other leg behind the band. Move the leg with the theraband attached outward with the knee straight, like a side leg lift. Hold for two seconds and slowly bring leg down. Switch sides.

2. Hip Gluteus Medius Strengthening: With the band still tied, face the immovable object and pull your leg back to a 45-degree angle. Hold for two seconds, bring the leg down, and switch sides.

For injured runners, Ferber prescribes three sets of 10 reps, three times a week. He also suggests that healthy runners do these exercises once or twice a week….”

I did these exercises yesterday while standing in the kitchen waiting for my soup to finish cooking.  I did not use a theraband, as I don’t have one, and I thought that initially, the weight of my own leg would be resistance enough.  I was right about the resistance, and felt that familiar burning sensation deep in the Gluteus Medius when I hit the third set of exercises.

As impatient as I am to rehab the hip and gain strength for the last four weeks of HARD marathon training, I am listening to the advice from fellow runners and Dr. Ferber of the Running Injury Clinic; only do the exercises three times a week (well, I might do them four times a week, on an every-other-day basis).  The muscle needs a chance to heal and rest, and pushing it too far will only lead to further injury.

As well, I have an appointment with a sports Physical Therapist next week, to evaluate my overall muscle condition.  I’m hoping to walk away from the appointment with a list of strengthening exercises I can do at home or in the gym to get my muscles into peak condition for the race in six weeks.  Did I just say SIX WEEKS?  Now is NOT the time to be injured!  I need to be completely pro-active in my strengthening, conditioning and rest.  The good news is that I’m not “injured” yet (knock on wood).  The IT Band aches after 9-10 miles, which means that this is an overuse issue, nothing some strengthening and cross-training can’t solve.

That happened to me on Friday.  Bill and I decided that since it was my “rest/cross-training day” of Marathon Training, we would hike.  He worked late Thursday night so he could play hooky Friday morning.  We got the kids off to school and headed into the mountains.

It was about 9:15 when we started hiking.  I had to be back in Louisville for a 1pm appointment, and we figured we had oodles of time to hike a 7.4 mile route.  We typically hike about 3 miles an hour; we would be back at the car by noon at the very, very latest.

The plan was to do a loop around Bear Peak.  My 2003 copy of “Hiking Colorado’s Front Range” said we could do a 7.4 mile loop around Bear Peak with about 1000 feet of elevation gain (online maps say the elevation gain is more like 2400 feet).  The plan was to actually summit the Peak, then drop down 2000 feet, loop around the north side and descend through Fern Canyon.

Things went swimmingly for the first two hours.  We hiked at a good clip (Bill wanted to be sure to get his heart rate up) and chatted easily.  I stopped and took pictures when the mood struck.

Pretty things along the way

The sun on my body felt divine and I felt light and airy.  My old Adidas trail runners were gripping the dry dirt of the trail perfectly, and life felt pretty much perfect.

More beautiful scenery!

Neither of us had ever been up Bear Peak (gasp!!!  I’m serious.  Sorry folks, even hard-core Colorado people haven’t seen every trail, nook and cranny of this beautiful state), and didn’t have first-hand knowledge of the time, distance or difficulty of the trail.  This didn’t seem like a big deal, as our guide book was telling us exactly what to expect.

When we reached the east side of Bear Peak there was a post with a sign, telling us we were at the Peak.  We took a snap of ourselves and checked the time… 11:15!!!  I gulped a few times while my head calculated the time/distance of our return.  We had to get going.

Bill and Lara, at the East side "Peak" of Bear Peak.

This is where we stopped following the book. Bill thought he saw the Fern Canyon turn-off a little way down the loose rock we had just ascended, though I was confused… I thought we kept going?  We didn’t look at the book again (Why?  Did we get cocky?  Lazy?  Stupid from lack of oxygen?  Possibly all of those reasons combined.) and retraced our steps.

Ten minutes later we were off the hard scrabble and back onto solid trail.  The angle of the terrain was still very steep, but not enough to tweak a knee.  We paused for a moment and were surprised when a hiker came up from behind… where had he come from?  My stomach sank when I realized that the trail we were supposed to be on was BEHIND us, not in front.  The hiker pulled out his well-worn trail map and the three of us studied it, pointing out a route for him and getting a clear visual on the route Bill and I needed to take to get back to our car.  We thanked him and went on our way.

After a minute of trying to walk quickly down a steep trail, I said what any sane trail runner with a time constraint would say:  “How do you feel about running?”

“Good,” Bill said.  And that started the I’m-5-years-old-and-I’m-running-down-a-mountain, quad-blowing, laughter-inducing, happiness-and-relationship-changing, run that got us off the mountain in 45 minutes.

I led.  It was steep, it was long.  We backtracked a good 5 miles to the car, turning our 7.4 mile loop into a great 10 mile workout.  Remember how this was supposed to be my REST DAY?  Oops.  Yeah, that didn’t happen.

We ran down the mountain, following the switchbacks that cut sharply into the edge.  I ran ahead of Bill and caught him in action as he came through the trees.

Bill running down the mountain.

Let me digress here, and say how totally, amazingly AWESOME it was that he not only ran with me, but kept up almost the entire time!  A year ago, he couldn’t have done this.  In the past twelve months he’s lost over 20 pounds and turned into a triathlete!!  His core, ankles, and overall fitness level is the best it’s ever been, and it was so fabulous to have my man with me, running down a trail at light speed, smiling and laughing as we jumped over rocks and kept our footing the entire way.  I LOVED THAT!!!

We finally got off Bear Canyon Trail and hit the Mesa Trail, where there’s a slight ascent again as you climb the backside of the hill to NCAR.   Bill was a total trooper and powered through the final ascents, and we jogged back to the car.

It was 12:15, on the nose.  We did it.  We cut an hour off our time by running down the mountain, and had such a blast doing it.  At home I had 15 minutes to shower, blow-dry my hair and shove lunch into my mouth before heading out to my appointment, which I reached at 1 pm exactly.

Saturday’s run called for an easy 4 miler in preparation for Sunday’s 12 miler.  It’s a dial-back week on the miles, so this was an easy shake-out.  I had already committed to running Kohler Mesa with the Saturday Morning gang, and kept it easy for the duration of the 5.5 miles.

By mid-morning on Saturday, my quads were KILLING ME.  I pushed the coffee table out of the way and lay on the floor with the foam roller, trying to work out some of the knots in my muscles.  I called my friend Lynn and scheduled a massage for Monday, knowing that this amount of tightness and pain needed some serious attention if I was going to be worth anything for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday’s workouts.  It was totally apparent that I blew out my quads with almost 16 miles of trail running in two days.

By 3 pm Saturday I decided to cancel my Sunday run.  My legs needed a rest.  I pushed them too hard and too far on Friday and Saturday.

It felt good but totally weird to rest on Sunday.  After only a few weeks, my brain is wired to get up early and do a Church of the Long Run.  My quads loved the massager with the heat setting I used on them yesterday, and loosened up a tad.  After another good night’s rest, I woke up today at 4 AM, HUNGRY and ready to run.  Except, I said I wouldn’t.  I said I’d give my quads two days of rest and recovery, so that this week’s workouts don’t suck.  And, I’m getting a massage later this morning.  So no running for this Runner Girl… today.  I’m being super-good and resting today.

Tomorrow’s another story.

After having my second child (8 years ago in July) my body went through a ton of changes.  Foods that I used to be able to tolerate suddenly made my digestive system forget what to do.  I was bloated each and every night for many years, with so much cramping and gas that I would lie in bed at night and cry from the pain.  I was eating healthy foods, too; yogurt and granola for breakfast, whole grain sandwiches with hard-boiled eggs and goat cheese for lunch, salads with mixed greens and kale, organic veggies, and chicken or fish and dark chocolate for a treat.  No soda, chips or junk food, ever.  What was wrong?

In a nutshell: everything.  Through lots of diagnostic tests I learned that I have intolerances to gluten, dairy, yeast, mushrooms, soy, rice, sesame, coffee and eggs.  Not only could I not digest gluten, but I couldn’t eat the gluten-free substitutions either because they are typically made with rice flour.  I’m down to veggies, fruits, nut-flour baked goods, quinoa and gluten-free oatmeal, and meat or fish proteins.  To top it all off, I’m not hungry most of the time.

After exercising I know I should eat within 20-30 minutes, but it’s hard to get around to it when I don’t feel the hunger pangs.  I typically never eat before I run, even if I’m heading out for 10-12 miles.  My post-run breakfast is light and I move on with my day.  No carb-replacing, goo’s, gels, gatorade, and never a big pasta dinner the night before a race.  If I’m racing and the race starts at 9 AM, I’ll eat a light breakfast of a banana and juice, maybe some gluten-free oatmeal if I’m not in a hurry, but that’s it.  I don’t have a “nutrition plan” for running, for re-fueling, racing… anything.  If I can find something to eat, I’ll eat it, but otherwise I’ll skip it.  The results seem to be the same.

No, I’m not anorexic.  Not even close.  I’m thin but not skinny, and I have more padding on me than some runners I know.  I’m picky about my food because when it doesn’t agree with me, it REALLY doesn’t agree with me.  I can count on one hand the number of days my belly has NOT hurt, bloated or distended in the last 8 years.  I have a love-hate relationship with food; I love food, it hates me.

I went to Ashland last weekend for a get-away.  I left the family in Colorado and visited two dear friends who work at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.  While I was there, a funny thing happened; I started to get hungry.  The first morning I was there I woke up hungry.  Usually I get up and head out the door to run; I couldn’t even consider doing that in Oregon because I was famished.  I wouldn’t have made it a mile.  I ate big bowls of creamy buckwheat hot cereal (buckwheat is naturally gluten-free) topped with homemade granola, bananas, dried fruit and almond milk.  A few hours later when Gwen and Michael rolled out of bed and round two started in the kitchen, I was trolling for food.  Quinoa with stir-fried kale, zucchini, spinach and bits of diced chicken were good; so were the yam chips smeared with peanut butter, big glasses of orange juice, the buffalo burger and yam fries, and fish, potatoes and grilled Brussel Sprouts for dinner at Omar’s.

I slept well when I was there, and even took naps.  Normally I never nap because going from a vertical to horizontal to vertical position again in the middle of the day ensures massive bloating and I lose my appetite for the rest of the day.  Lying down will stop up my kidney and intestinal function like nothing else.  In Oregon, I napped and woke up feeling great, so good that I could run in the evening and enjoy dinner a few hours later.

When I mentioned to Gwen that I’m not usually very hungry she looked me in the eye and said “You’re over-stressed.  This is how your body has compensated for stress in your life.  You’ve been carrying around so much stress for so many years that there was no room for nutrition.  Now that you’re relaxing there’s room for you to nourish your body.”

So. 

I ate, slept, relaxed, ran, read, relaxed, ate, and slept a little more when I was in Oregon.  I ran three out of the four days I was there; not because I had to, but because I wanted to.  Because it felt good for my body to run in 80 degree weather on a trail in muggy conditions.  Because it felt good to run 10 miles at a 8:06 pace on a clear morning.  Because I wanted to.

I got home and haven’t run since.  I’m too tired.  I’m back to eating nibbles of this and that through-out the day, because I’m not hungry and that’s all my body will tolerate.

This past week taught me that I know nothing about proper nutrition for Momma runners.  I know how to get my body through the day but it’s not in a “normal” way.  My body has adapted to the stresses of my life by not allowing much nutrition, and this is not the way a healthy body functions.

I am utterly and truly aware that I need to make changes in my life.  I am not happy living like this and can no longer stay on my current trajectory.  Something’s gotta give.  I am starting to figure out what needs to happen.   This summer is going to be a time of digging really deep to see what I’m made of.  Runners do this all the time in races; now, I’m in a race for my life.  Bodies will only withstand so much wear and tear before they break down from chronic problems.  I’m lucky that I’m still functioning, but don’t want to assume that this will be the case indefinitely.

I’m a runner, and I know I can do better.  The training begins now.

I started seeing an acupuncturist a few weeks ago about some digestive issues that have plagued me for years. After her assessment and a few treatments, she announced that my body has been in a low level state of “fight or flight” for almost 20 years.  This stress pulls blood away from the internal organs and sends it to the head, feet and hands, which eventually creates a chronic state of unrest and ill health in the body.  “Fight or flight” is great when you’re at risk of being eaten by a mountain lion, but after you’ve made it to safety your body needs to come back down to a place of relaxation.  Problem is, my body has forgotten how to do that.

I have a heightened sense of awareness almost all the time.  When I’m around people I have no filter; I’m picking up on what everyone in the room is feeling at any given time.  I’m absorbing their energy, their intentions, and processing that within my body.  By the time I leave the gathering I’m wiped out, emotionally and physically.  My body has come to adapt to this, but in an unhealthy way.

My acupuncturist says that I HAVE to start doing meditation and/or yoga on a daily basis, to give my body a break.  I have to re-train myself release stress and find a place of calm.  I’ve said many times that I need to stretch more, find time to do yoga, and now I’m getting a literal prescription that instructs me to start taking better care of myself!  How crazy is THAT???

It’s been increasingly hard for me to get out and run lately; you may have noticed a dip in the number of posts I’ve written lately.  I couldn’t figure out anything to say, other than “Feeling depressed” or “Yup, things are still crazy”.  It seemed stupid to keep beating a dead horse, so I didn’t say anything at all.

Interestingly enough, this past weekend all of the stressors in my life came to a head, and I went into total overwhelm.  I was very depressed and cried several times a day.  A conversation late in the weekend solidified the notion that I am in total overwhelm and need to make some major changes.

I spent Monday sending out emails and making changes to my schedule.  I’ve pulled back from all but two commitments in my life; the work that I’m contracted to do this summer, and my writing.  Other than that, I’m focusing on my family, my health, and me.  I extended too far and lost my balance. 

So, this is me, trying to re-learn how to find my own center and live in that place, rather than in other people’s energy. I will always be sensitive to other people, and that’s a good thing, but I need to learn how to take care of myself.  Thank God I’m not dead yet, as I still have SOOO much to learn.

I hope to get back into a running routine soon, but I’m giving myself permission to take it easy.  I’ve been super-tired lately, the kind of tired that sleep can’t touch.

Thanks for understanding.

All that being said, I’m not convinced I need an antibiotic yet.  I took some cough medicine this morning and a decongestant, and plan to leave it at that for the moment.

So my big question is, when do YOU know you need antibiotics?  What’s the defining moment when you finally throw in the towel and say “I’m not getting any better, I must have a bacterial infection.”

I tend to wait until I feel like death warmed over (this takes about 10 days to fully kick in), and then it’s another week of recovering from that snot-induced, cough-racking place where I’m utterly exhausted and worn down.  And, how does a person keep the virus from turning bacterial?  I know I’m a slow learner, but I’m still trying to find that magic tipping point and keep myself on the viral side of things.  So far, not working so well.  Do I keep trying, or is that the very definition of insanity, to keep doing the same thing and expect different results?