Takes More Than A Bum Leg To Keep Me Down
I am running a marathon. And it will be this year.
That has become my mantra. I repeat it when I swim, with each poorly formed stroke. I silently repeated it when my alarm clock went off at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, and as I dragged myself out for an eight-mile run, which should have been easy after last week’s 12-miler.
It’s incredibly frustrating to have your body get in the way of your goals. Before now, my experience with that feeling was pretty much limited to times when I got too sleepy to keep partying when my friends were going strong. I certainly got a taste of it when I broke my leg a few years ago, but I knew that was so temporary. I needed a mantra because, in it’s absence, another phrase sneaks into my head:
Plenty of people just can’t run a marathon. They aren’t equipped. Their bodies’ resist, balk, refuse.
I started the run Saturday full of optimism. I had rested for a week, except for the swimming. My mother had sent me some information about avoiding shin splints by relaxing your legs below the knee. That didn’t work. Instead, I tried to send “work hard!” vibes to my upper legs and my butt. I don’t think that worked, either.
After a little over a mile, I was in too much pain to continue. I walked about four more miles. Then, I went home a laid a bag of frozen peas over my shin. Sunday morning, I was limping.
I am running a marathon. I am running a marathon.
This week, I have two PT appointments and appointment with my orthopedic doc, who will give me an MRI to make sure there is not more damage than just inflammation.
Coach Rich told me that swimming will keep my heart and lungs even more fit than running would. If we can get me back in fighting form over the next two weeks, I will be fine.
It will be this year.
That has become my mantra. I repeat it when I swim, with each poorly formed stroke. I silently repeated it when my alarm clock went off at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, and as I dragged myself out for an eight-mile run, which should have been easy after last week’s 12-miler.
It’s incredibly frustrating to have your body get in the way of your goals. Before now, my experience with that feeling was pretty much limited to times when I got too sleepy to keep partying when my friends were going strong. I certainly got a taste of it when I broke my leg a few years ago, but I knew that was so temporary. I needed a mantra because, in it’s absence, another phrase sneaks into my head:
Plenty of people just can’t run a marathon. They aren’t equipped. Their bodies’ resist, balk, refuse.
I started the run Saturday full of optimism. I had rested for a week, except for the swimming. My mother had sent me some information about avoiding shin splints by relaxing your legs below the knee. That didn’t work. Instead, I tried to send “work hard!” vibes to my upper legs and my butt. I don’t think that worked, either.
After a little over a mile, I was in too much pain to continue. I walked about four more miles. Then, I went home a laid a bag of frozen peas over my shin. Sunday morning, I was limping.
I am running a marathon. I am running a marathon.
This week, I have two PT appointments and appointment with my orthopedic doc, who will give me an MRI to make sure there is not more damage than just inflammation.
Coach Rich told me that swimming will keep my heart and lungs even more fit than running would. If we can get me back in fighting form over the next two weeks, I will be fine.
It will be this year.
posted by Daphne at 8:27 AM
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