Do I Dare Hope???

I ran yesterday and my heel only hurts a teensy bit! I managed 5 miles and I even kept my pace below 9:00/mile--not too shabby considering that's the farthest I've run in two weeks. I'm heading back to the gym tonight; I don't want to push the injury, after all, but I'm pretty stoked right now. Could the worst be behind me??? Let's see what the podiatrist says tomorrow.

Stiff Upper Lip and All That

I'm trying. I'm really, really trying. I'm trying as hard as I can to not let this injury get me down, but...it's getting me down. I realized today that I've been avoiding the blog so I'm back with a little update.

I ran 3 miles last Monday and my heel felt great. Honestly, it felt as good as new. I was on cloud nine. So, I went out for 4 miles on Tuesday. What's that Julia Roberts says in Pretty Woman? "Big mistake. Big. Huge." Yeah, I was basically crippled again.

I took Wednesday as a rest day and hit the bike on Thursday. My heel was doing a little talking the last part of the week but I wasn't limping. I talked to Coach Crazylegs and he said to try 7 miles today. I made it 3. (In all fairness, I cut it short after the other members of the running club had a little freak out over the fact I was running at all.) Now my heel hurts. Still? Again? I don't even know. It's a blur.

I made an appointment with my podiatrist for this coming Wednesday.

My marathon is in 8 weeks.

Paying the Piper

I knew I was in trouble this morning when my first words to my husband, as I lay wallowing in bed, were "I'm spiraling into the abyss." (Heck, you should know by now I have a flare for the dramatic.) I indulged a few more minutes, picturing my running group on their 20-miler, before I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and headed out to my new sweaty, nasty, funky (not the good kind of "funky") gym trying to maintain as much cardio as possible.

Not being a bike person, I managed to endure half an hour of burning thighs before I got bored of pedaling and staring at the jiggling buttocks on the dreadmillers in front of me. I moved on to the elliptical, and my heel hurt for the first minute or so but seemed to adapt pretty quickly. After forcing myself to finish the 32 minutes I initially signed up for, I found myself returning to the bike. I couldn't help but think about all my friends out there running 20 miles and I think I started punishing my body for getting injured. Isn't that sweet? I managed another 30 minutes on the bike--hill routine this time--then moved on to abs and free weights.

Pretty good workout, I admit, but I still keep thinking how much better those 20 miles would have been.

:(

After consultation with Coach Crazylegs, tomorrow's 20 miler has been cancelled. In fact, all running this weekend has been cancelled.

On the bright side, this turn of events gave me a good excuse to renew my gym membership. Now I get to nurture my burgeoning relationship with the stationery bike.

I'm Kind of a Big Deal Around Here

For your viewing pleasure, I submit further evidence of my total and abject running dorkdom. I will be sporting this for the next several nights. Hot, no? I plan on wearing it the next two nights of until I can actually bear weight on my heel or tolerate a stiff breeze blowing past it. Oh yeah, there's tons of breezage in my heel region. Yours too, right?

Now, for the totally geeky cool part. My daddy-o, saint that he is, went to the local running store to pick up that hot messiness for me. When he mentioned he was buying it for his daughter, the salesclerk said "Oh, you must mean Runner Girl ." (Except, of course, she used my real name.) I s'pose I should share that Coach Crazylegs, who seems to know every darn tootin' person in the local running community, had called her and spoken to her about my condition. Still, if only for a few fleeting moments, I actually felt almost famous! As Sally Fields sort of said: They know me! They really know me! Now, if only I could be known for some act of great selflessness or human achievement rather than a running injury. Still, I'll take what I can get.

And, yes, I'm still planning on a 20-miler in less than forty-eight hours. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Sidelined.

Well, crap monkeys. It looks like I have plantar fasciitis. The fact I haven't been able to put any weight on my heel since Saturday night without it resulting in stabbing, shooting pain was my first indication. When I tried to work it out last night during a five-mile run and came back in even more pain, I got the second indication that something really isn't right. I talked to Coach Crazylegs today and he actually told me not to run for the rest of the week! The same man who demands you run through ungodly cold temperatures, pouring down rain, white-out snow conditions, nausea, and mild diarrhea told me to rest for FOUR days! Oh, the humanity!! I was taking the whole thing pretty well, stiff upper lip and all that, until he had to go and get all dramatic like that. Now I'm in major freak out mode. To make matters worse, he told me to ride a stationery bike a few times so I don't lose cardio conditioning for Saturday's 20-miler. That's right, I'm looking at 20 miles this weekend. And I don't have a gym membership. I gave that up when running took over my life. Fortunately I'm able to glom on to the guest access at my parents' gym and hit the bike, but I'll only be able to do it once this week.

Somebody tell me this is no big deal. Please!

Holy crap...

do my legs hurt! I mean, super ouch. Wowza. I've already popped three ibuprofen; I could have maxed out at four but I wanted to leave a glimmer of more potential pain relief on the horizon. Seriously, my legs hurt like they haven't hurt since I got roped into some sadistic BodyPump class that consisted of nothing but squats for an hour. I ran 15 miles with the group today and that distance itself shouldn't cause pain--but, those hills. Lawd, those hills!! Coach Crazylegs is a sick f#$k for creating the course he did today. And I can't help but think, if it hurts this much now, what will tomorrow be like? Y'all know the second day is always worse. Thankfully the weather here was warm enough today to warrant an official "Margarita Madness" night at the Runner Girl household. These legs should be feeling pretty good, and wobbly, realllll soon.

Coach Crazylegs Was Right

Blast him. He proclaimed that I must always attend the obscenely timed 5:30 a.m. track workouts because I would never push myself as hard on my treadmill. Yeah right, I thought, he just doesn't know my masochistic tendencies yet. The theory was put to the test this week when five inches of snow caused track cancellation. Like a good little dedicated runner, I turned to my hamster wheel for some speed intervals. And ya know what? (You see it coming, I know you do.) I didn't run as fast as I do at track. I hate to be wrong, especially when it's combined with a weak performance on my part, but when I found myself singing along to Britney I knew I wasn't running fast enough. Yet I didn't increase my speed. It continues to boggle my mind that I can be both a marathon runner and lazy at the same time. How is that possible??

Oooh, better log the rest of my dreadmill miles for the week. Thank god they're over. Have I mentioned how much I dislike that thing?

Tuesday: 5.25 miles

Wednesday: 6 miles

I Need Some Wine with my Cheese

With the Blizzard of '09's five inches keeping us housebound today, I found myself heading for the basement dreadmill to log a few minutes of sanity. Not being a true devoted fan of said dreadmill, I am constantly looking for new forms of entertainment to help ease those miles. Today, the burden fell on my dear beloved iPod shuffle. I started by finishing the FreshAir podcast, because I'm edgy like that, from last Thursday's run, but then I decided I needed some tunes to bring it home. That's how I ended up listening to Coldplay's Viva La Vida and imagining myself ruling "the world" of the marathon course in Cleveland. The next thing I knew, I was waving at imaginary spectators, giving my dad a thumbs up while he snapped photos, and tearing up as I neared the finish line. Unfortunately, the finish line was imaginary, but the tears weren't. God I'm a dork.

Today's miles: 5 (yeah, I figure I better start posting them again--it'll keep me honest)