Wednesday
A Successful Two Miles
Who would have thought running a clunky, sluggish two miles could make me so happy? Well, when my calf didn't tighten during or after I not only feel excited, I feel like I can conquer the world! :)
Monday
Active Recovery
It's been one week since Chicago. Other than the aforementioned left calf, I've recovered nicely. However, I hadn't yet gone out for some active recovery and my left leg was getting more achy by the day. Spending Friday night and 10 hours on Saturday sitting on bleachers at my daughter's volleyball tournament certainly didn't help. When I wasn't sitting I was standing since there weren't a lot of places to go. Plus, non-cheering time was spent dealing lecturing/consoling/combatting my teenage daughter. This, in turn, meant my mom spent her downtime listening/consoling/comforting her teenage granddaughter AND her not-feeling-so-grown-up daughter. My 7-year old and my dad wisely kept their distance. We had some good moments, though, and I had plenty of opportunities to embarrass her.
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| "Awkward Mom Photo" |
Sunday was much better for my leg with some unexpected active recovery. My second grader really wanted to go apple picking “before winter comes” and Sunday was our day to go. The teenager opted to stay home leaving just me and my little man to brave crossing the Cheddar Curtain for some apples, pumpkins, and fun. I was happy to be walking normally, although still a little stiff from the bleachers and my injury. Our day at the Apple Farm turned into a reminder that active recovery doesn’t need to take the form of going for a run. Little Man insisted on trying the pedal carts and was super excited to see a double one that we could pedal and ride together. After some time in the playground, getting lost in a corn maze, and munching on an overpriced lunch, we journeyed via wagon ride to the Enchanted Forest where we searched for the perfect apples to fill our bags. We meandered over uneven ground through the orchard, even stopping at the pumpkin patch to pick out two pumpkins before making our way back to the orchard entrance. I realized by the time we go back to the car that my leg wasn’t aching any more. In fact, it felt fantastic! I’ll still break from running for another few days…maybe up to another week, but I feel encouraged. Encouraged that with proper rest I will run again. Encouraged that I can be active in other ways without prolonging my full recovery time. All thanks to my Little Man for insisting on a trip to the orchard and for being the best part of my unexpected active recovery day.
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| Pedal Carts! |
Saturday
"Let the pain be your guide"
"You know the marathon was only three days ago," the sports doctor said to me as I explained the extreme tightness in my left calf.
"I know," I replied. "But I've been running long distance since 2008 and this is a new pain that started two weeks before the marathon." I told him I had taken two weeks off prior to the marathon, how I couldn't walk well afterwards even though the "marathon soreness" had subsided, how my attempt to loosen the muscle in a whirlpool had resulted in my leg swelling up like I was 9 months pregnant, and how my family has a history of blood clots due to a protein deficiency, for which I have tested negative. Oh, and I mentioned my hypochondriac tendencies.
"I can't always feel a clot with a physical exam and I could order a test for that if you really are worried, but I don't feel a 'cord' in you leg that could indicate a clot and you have a very valid reason for a muscle strain. Taking two weeks off of running was the best for healing, but running a marathon angered the muscle. Rest, icing, stretching, and no running. Try biking or swimming until your leg feels better."
"How long should I not run?" I queried.
"Let the pain be your guide," this doctor, who also runs, replied. "If you were 62, I would say it would take awhile, but you're young enough that you should heal fine. You're not in danger of tearing or snapping anything.
Thanks, Yoda... "Any idea?" I asked again.
"When's your next race?" he responded to my insistance.
"Two and a half weeks. And I'm stubborn," I said.
He smiled. "I'm the same way."
Let the pain be my guide...
Patience...
Thursday
The Chicago Marathon
Chicago
I’ve waited for you for five years.
26.2 miles of city streets
26.2 miles of city sights
26.2 miles with 44,999 other runners
26.2 miles of 1 million spectators
26.2 miles
Chicago
You did not disappoint.
It’s been four days now since finishing the Chicago marathon and it’s taken me these four days to be okay with my run. I finished in 5:32:57. One minute and 43 seconds off of my best time. The first half was amazing, crossing at 2:30:36 on track for close to a 5 hour marathon. Then I made the mistake of getting my hopes up. Having not run for two weeks, my legs felt pretty good. My problematic left leg had been tight the whole time, but was mechanically working. I thought I was in decent shape to grab a PR at least. I was enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. The spectators were amazing with a constant sound of cheering. The weather was perfect. I even had Batman and Batgirl in my start corral. I would see Superman and Captain America later in the race, too. But just as in my last marathon, the second half quickly became the opposite of the first one.
It started with my right knee, which probably was a result from compensating for my tight left leg. I had taped my knee and had a knee strap with me, which I decided to add. Then both calves were feeling tight. Finally by mile 22, my adductor muscle (I believe…) in my right thigh Charlie-horsed causing me to pull up short and cling to a near-by light pole to keep from collapsing. One thing I knew in that moment, if I went down, I wasn’t getting back up. And there was no way I wasn’t finishing.
Not finishing was not an option.
I went into the Chicago marathon knowing that there would be pain. In my first marathon, I made it 21 miles before the pain in my heel was too much for me to continue running. I finished with a run/walk and a stress fracture. In my second marathon the heat was my enemy, I started hyperventilating at the halfway point and walk/ran the remaining, unable to calm my respiratory system despite the faithful companionship of Bethie. So here I was. Mile 22. In pain. The tears were starting. I was being to hyperventilate again. Only this time, my only companion was a light pole, probably covered in germs. But I knew another thing in that moment… “forward is a pace”.
Not finishing was not an option.
I took deep breaths to calm my breathing down. I gently stretched my thigh. I cursed.
And I continued on my way.
Slowly
It’s only 4 miles. You can run 4 miles.
At mile 23 there were people handing out cups of beer to runners. I took a cup. The aid stations were also handing out pieces of banana. By this point, the banana was more helpful to me than the shot bloks I had been using. There were an increasing number of cameramen taking official race photos. I smiled at each one I saw.
Finishing was the ONLY option
Throughout the entire run, the motivational signs intended for other runners pulled me through. Several of my close friends were receiving text updates of my progress as well. Each time I crossed a timing mat I imagine the data being blasted out to my loved ones. There was no way they weren’t getting that final text…
FINISH
It was within sight. The route had been counting down: 800 meters to go… 600 meters to go… 400… 200… 100… There were announcers calling out names of runners. And then I heard it:
“Julia Markworth!”
Me!!!
I raised my fist in the air at the announcement of my name. I raised both as I crossed the final timing mat.
26.2
Chicago
There are many things I would have liked to have gone better. But I can honestly say that I gave it everything. In those moments, those steps, each stride, each pain, each smile…I left it all out there. I may have journeyed this marathon without someone physically by my side, but I was never alone. With the support of friends and family cheering me on, the claps on the back by strangers, the smiles from the race volunteers…I had Run Chicago. And I would run it again in a heartbeat.
John Bingham said it best:
"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."
Thank you for your love and support. I would not have had the courage to start without it.
I’ve waited for you for five years.
26.2 miles of city streets
26.2 miles of city sights
26.2 miles with 44,999 other runners
26.2 miles of 1 million spectators
26.2 miles
Chicago
You did not disappoint.
It’s been four days now since finishing the Chicago marathon and it’s taken me these four days to be okay with my run. I finished in 5:32:57. One minute and 43 seconds off of my best time. The first half was amazing, crossing at 2:30:36 on track for close to a 5 hour marathon. Then I made the mistake of getting my hopes up. Having not run for two weeks, my legs felt pretty good. My problematic left leg had been tight the whole time, but was mechanically working. I thought I was in decent shape to grab a PR at least. I was enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. The spectators were amazing with a constant sound of cheering. The weather was perfect. I even had Batman and Batgirl in my start corral. I would see Superman and Captain America later in the race, too. But just as in my last marathon, the second half quickly became the opposite of the first one.
It started with my right knee, which probably was a result from compensating for my tight left leg. I had taped my knee and had a knee strap with me, which I decided to add. Then both calves were feeling tight. Finally by mile 22, my adductor muscle (I believe…) in my right thigh Charlie-horsed causing me to pull up short and cling to a near-by light pole to keep from collapsing. One thing I knew in that moment, if I went down, I wasn’t getting back up. And there was no way I wasn’t finishing.
Not finishing was not an option.
I went into the Chicago marathon knowing that there would be pain. In my first marathon, I made it 21 miles before the pain in my heel was too much for me to continue running. I finished with a run/walk and a stress fracture. In my second marathon the heat was my enemy, I started hyperventilating at the halfway point and walk/ran the remaining, unable to calm my respiratory system despite the faithful companionship of Bethie. So here I was. Mile 22. In pain. The tears were starting. I was being to hyperventilate again. Only this time, my only companion was a light pole, probably covered in germs. But I knew another thing in that moment… “forward is a pace”.
Not finishing was not an option.
I took deep breaths to calm my breathing down. I gently stretched my thigh. I cursed.
And I continued on my way.
Slowly
It’s only 4 miles. You can run 4 miles.
At mile 23 there were people handing out cups of beer to runners. I took a cup. The aid stations were also handing out pieces of banana. By this point, the banana was more helpful to me than the shot bloks I had been using. There were an increasing number of cameramen taking official race photos. I smiled at each one I saw.
Finishing was the ONLY option
Throughout the entire run, the motivational signs intended for other runners pulled me through. Several of my close friends were receiving text updates of my progress as well. Each time I crossed a timing mat I imagine the data being blasted out to my loved ones. There was no way they weren’t getting that final text…
FINISH
It was within sight. The route had been counting down: 800 meters to go… 600 meters to go… 400… 200… 100… There were announcers calling out names of runners. And then I heard it:
“Julia Markworth!”
Me!!!
I raised my fist in the air at the announcement of my name. I raised both as I crossed the final timing mat.
26.2
Chicago
There are many things I would have liked to have gone better. But I can honestly say that I gave it everything. In those moments, those steps, each stride, each pain, each smile…I left it all out there. I may have journeyed this marathon without someone physically by my side, but I was never alone. With the support of friends and family cheering me on, the claps on the back by strangers, the smiles from the race volunteers…I had Run Chicago. And I would run it again in a heartbeat.
John Bingham said it best:
"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."
Thank you for your love and support. I would not have had the courage to start without it.
 |
| Good Morning Chicago |
 |
| Before the race: Ready to run! |
 |
| Here we go! |
 |
| Still smiling! |
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| The hardware :) |
Sunday
Activation Energy
This is the last quiet moment. The final pause in time before I embark on the adventure that is the Chicago marathon. Right now I have only potential energy. The story is yet to be written with its ending still a mystery. As I breathe in and breathe out I revel in this moment, this time, this chapter. Soon it will be kinetic energy, striding toward a goal. I will revel in those moments, too. I am thankful for those who support me, love me, and cheer for me. They will carry me through the miles.
And now I feel my activation energy.
Happy running friends
Friday
Pain in the Leg
“The only guarantee in endurance sport is it’s going to hurt. And in endurance sport, you pick your level of pain. You have to learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable. Yes, there is the matter of talent and training, and you train to delay the onset of pain. But it’s gonna come. And it comes down to who can tolerate the most pain.”
Professional triathlete, Chris Lieto
The above quote was quoted in the Fleet Feet article: Cry and Move On
I was drawn to this article because I have been unable to run in the past week and a half due to an intense knot in my calf muscle. And the marathon is in two days.
Two.
I'm beginning to panic. I want so badly for the race to go well for me. My 20-miler was a dream. I enjoyed the run, the day, the scenery...all-in-all a great run. And I haven't had one since. Just pain. Shuddering up my leg. I can't even make it a quarter mile let alone 26.2 miles.
What to do?
Time to buck up. Run with my heart, my determination, my excitement, the enormity of the Chicago event...run with no other expectations than to finish. Finish strong. Run the best to my ability given my current circumstances.
The author closes with, "To give in, to relent, is to hide not only from the pain, but from your true potential. Don’t sell yourself short because of pain. Don’t adopt a habit of surrender. So it hurts—so what? Pain is just a feeling, and feelings pass. Are you going to let a feeling beat you?"
It's been 5 years since I've dreamed about running the Chicago Marathon. And pain or no pain, I will run.
Professional triathlete, Chris Lieto
The above quote was quoted in the Fleet Feet article: Cry and Move On
I was drawn to this article because I have been unable to run in the past week and a half due to an intense knot in my calf muscle. And the marathon is in two days.
Two.
I'm beginning to panic. I want so badly for the race to go well for me. My 20-miler was a dream. I enjoyed the run, the day, the scenery...all-in-all a great run. And I haven't had one since. Just pain. Shuddering up my leg. I can't even make it a quarter mile let alone 26.2 miles.
What to do?
Time to buck up. Run with my heart, my determination, my excitement, the enormity of the Chicago event...run with no other expectations than to finish. Finish strong. Run the best to my ability given my current circumstances.
The author closes with, "To give in, to relent, is to hide not only from the pain, but from your true potential. Don’t sell yourself short because of pain. Don’t adopt a habit of surrender. So it hurts—so what? Pain is just a feeling, and feelings pass. Are you going to let a feeling beat you?"
It's been 5 years since I've dreamed about running the Chicago Marathon. And pain or no pain, I will run.
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