Just Haven't Seen it Yet

Race Day Journal

7:30 AM

I'm not sure how I went from "That's it, I'm not going to run. It's not worth it," at 3 AM to the starting line laughing with my teammate and Daniel, but here I am. I honestly feel so nauseous and nervous, but we did a warm-up, I'm standing here, and they are counting down to the canon blast to start the race (yeah - we use a canon not a gun in Roanoke - don't ask). Not quite too late to turn back now - but if I'm here, I'm at least going to start. I can always bail at mile 1. Or 2. Or at the turn.

John Carlin's voice keeps coming through the speakers and it's strangely comforting. I heard his voice all throughout my childhood and into adulthood. He was a runner, a really nice guy, and just so stinking calm - all of the time. I'm glad he's here, and glad he's the guy with the microphone.

That anthem, though. Wow. Um.

Moving on.

Oh gosh. 2 minutes. I'm going to puke. What am I doing?

One last pre-race photo. That's what.

7:35 AM
BOOM

That canon blast is something else. Running through the smoke afterwards is an experience too.

But HERE
WE
GOOOOOOOOOO

I spent the first 10 minutes telling Daniel to slow down a bit, and making sure people didn't knock him over. Surprisingly, this year there were some rude people literally pushing people aside, passing them on the sidewalk side with less than an inch between them and the sidewalk, or tripping people as they cut drastically in and out of runners. It was insane. I have never seen such behavior at a Roanoke race and it was not appealing at all. Don't be one of those people. The ones hugging the sidewalk are trying to give you room to run down the middle of the road however fast you want to go. No need to EVER physically lay your hands on anyone or tell anyone to move, like someone did to my teammate. You're faster - so go around. Don't be obnoxious. We started where we were told to start and stayed to the side as requested. Did you follow directions? If you had, you shouldn't have been directly behind us moving that fast. The faster runners were supposed to be front and center. Maybe you underestimated yourself? But anyway...

One of the times I said "Slow down," Daniel replied with, "I've never run so slow in my life." I started to explain he'd be glad he did in about 20 minutes, but I figured he'd figure it out himself in less time than that. He asked if we were in last place, because there were so many people in front of us. I told him, "turn around and look." He looked back and got a shocked look on his face. There were three times as many people behind us as in front of us. He's never run a race this big. That was fun to see.

The uphill start quickly turned downhill (and easy), and we turned towards the Walnut Avenue bridge.

This is one of my favorite parts of this race. You can see runners heading up the first hill, you can see the star where you'll be in 30-50 minutes, and it's a sea of people conquering the toughest road race in America, together, as a huge blob. I should have taken a picture, but I was too focused. These don't give the full vantage point and don't come close to sharing the awesomeness of it, but they're all I've got.

(photos from 2017 courtesy of Blue Ridge Marathon)

(picture from Lori K of group going up Walnut Ave)

We started up the first hill. We made it! But Daniel started saying "my calves!!" We made it a little further and he was ready to walk. So I picked a sign and told him to run to it and we'd walk a minute.

We passed mile 1 - 12:08. Slower than I probably would have gone on my own, faster than my coach probably wanted to see, but good. We'll go with it.

By the way, band at mile 1 and 5 - AWESOME. Loved it.

Up the next incline. Three steps in Daniel was complaining. I said pick something up there somewhere. He chose a sign. I said run to it and we'll walk again.

We did this most of mile 1-2.

We saw the mile 2 sign. I let out a loud cheer. Others echoed. I knew in that instant I was going to finish this race. It just clicked. I didn't care how long it took me. I just knew right then, in that moment, that it IS possible. That's a pretty awesome feeling, especially when 5 hours ago you were determined you were not going to be able to run at all.

There's a long stretch from 2-3 that is pretty even and not a steep incline. I tried so hard to get Daniel to run it, but he was complaining about his calves hurting. So, we took it really easy. I knew the worst was yet to come. Sure enough, that tough part at 2.5 hit. That stunk. That hill hurts. Buns. Of. STEEL. Just saying.

As Daniel got further into the race he picked it up a little. He commented on how he was holding me back and that I could totally beat him up this mountain. I explained I didn't care and I'd rather go up it with him than try to run faster, plus, I was supposed to be taking it easy going up and using walk breaks. I was really enjoying this time with him, watching him face his biggest challenge yet, and coaching him through it. Plus, the perk was, the more I focused on coaching him through it, the easier it became for me and the less I thought about myself. I just enjoyed the run.

Other runners who were alternating between running and walking to conquer the mountain would start conversations with us. Most, finding out it was Daniel's first 10K, would comment on how well he was doing, and how insane it was that he chose this race as his first 10K!!

I spotted the bus and got really excited. We made it to the turn!!!

"All of the fully insane, crazy people stay straight. Everyone else - turn right!!!"

This always gets lots of laughs.

Some guy tried to tell me we were 0.7 away from the turn. I pointed and said, "It's right there." Then he got really excited. I then explained we were 0.7 from the top. He took off. We passed him less than 2 minutes later.

That last climb, from the turn to the top of the mountain, is extremely steep and long. It's by far the hardest part of the 10K. There was a sign there that said, "Run your race in such a way that you may seize the prize and make it yours." I was half-convinced my coach put it there, and I had to stop and take a quick picture.

Then, we started up the horrible climb. We ran about 20 seconds and walked. Then did 15 seconds running. Then walked. Then hit 30 seconds running. Then walked. The entire way up.

We saw mile 3. Pure adrenaline rush. We are almost halfway!!! Mile 3 - 16:26. Yeah - it stunk. It was hard. But we did it!

Then, I saw the volunteer at the top directing runners onto the trail, and pointed him out to Daniel. I said, "we walk to him, then we GO." He asked if that was the start of the trail around the top, and I said yes, and reminded him to be careful on the mud, roots and rocks, since they'd be slick. We hit the trail and he took off. I said, "Are you leaving me?!" I heard, "I don't know," and then he disappeared. He jetted down the mountain. I was okay with that, and just yelled, "be careful!"

I came to the last little incline up to the star and there were so many people there. I quickly grabbed an orange slice and a water, had the orange in my mouth, and then saw the photographer. Horrible placement photo people!!!!!!! Fix that next year. Really. Please. Just a little bit down the path to your left, you could have had amazing shots with star behind runners. Bad angle as it was, I shifted things, smiled (I'm sure with orange pulp stuck in my teeth) and moved on. Threw away the rind and cup, and took off. I began passing so many  people. That's a weird thing for me, because it rarely happens. I was flying. And it felt wonderful. (found out later I moved up 15 places in my age group alone from the 2.7 mark to the finish line - that astounded me) 

I reminded myself that I needed to tighten my skirt before we had a wardrobe malfunction. So on one of the watch beeps for a walk interval, I decided to take that minute and actually walk, fix the skirt, catch a few deep breaths, and get ready to run as far as I could from that point. I was ready by the end of the minute and took off again, as carefully as I could at that speed due the potholes, uneven asphalt, debris on the road and wetness. I let myself lean into the momentum and just go - but I also tried to hold back just a tad out of caution.

Mile 4 - FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!! Already?! 13:25. You know what that means. Mimosa signs start appearing.

I ran. And ran. And enjoyed every second of feeling like I was flying down the mountain. I saw a man slow in front of me and then stop. He was hurting. I yelled, "You've got this. Keep going!" He picked back up. Just in time for the mimosas at the Brown house.

I saw the crowd, waved at the people handing out the drinks and kept going. I was in a groove and didn't want to stop. I'm pretty sure I moved up about 50 places overall there. SO many were just stopped, hanging out and drinking together. Mid-race party?

I kept flying down the hill and before I knew it, I saw mile 5 and the turn. Mile 5 - 9:28!!!! Score!!! Third fastest mile ever. I'll take that.

I grabbed one last water, only took a quick sip, threw the cup, and kept going.

I started the downhill and spotted Daniel up ahead, starting onto the bridge. Thankful again for the awesome musicians set up there - they were great.

Kept running. I felt wonderful.

I made it to the bridge. It dawned on me. I have done this. I did it. I am going to finish. I'm making good time. I'm on track to get there around that 1:20 mark. I feel fantastic. I did it. I'm really back!!!

I got to the bridge, ran about 1/3 of the way up and took a walk break. I knew a big uphill was coming before the last little downhill finish.

I started feeling the nerve pain creeping into my feet. Then instant numbness. I looked at my watch. I still had 10 minutes to get there and not hate my finish time. I'd be okay. I walked a little more. I could not feel my legs. I started to think about what the doctor said, looked at my watch again, and saw I had just 0.7 to go. I decided to run to a light, walk again to the top of the incline, and then book it, knowing I still had plenty of time and was well within reach of my goal time.

I made it to the light. Began walking. Could not feel anything below my waist. Could not feel my feet touching the pavement. That was supposed to be an instant stop running from the doctor. But I was so close. Sorry, Doc. I focused on keeping my feet under me and moving. A police officer asked me if I was okay. I promised him I wasn't drinking, just couldn't feel my legs. He laughed and said, "why not? Everyone else is?!" I laughed, thankful for the distraction and humor, and kept moving. I got to the top of the incline and the officer there shouted to me as I began running again, "Get it girl! You're there now!! Go!" I pushed.

I saw the brick entry to the finish chute. I turned and heard the announcer saying "Welcome Kristi Casey from Knoxville, TN to the finish line. She is running for team CareRunners and is running in honor of the thousands of 9/11 responders who are sick and dying from 9/11 related illnesses." I thought, "cool -they read the whole thing. Glad no one is finishing at same time as me. Oh crud, everyone's looking at ME then!" I heard some people start cheering and screaming. I still could not feel anything below my waist, and was hoping not to trip, hoped my wardrobe wasn't malfunctioning anywhere, and just decided to smile and go. I saw the clock and said to myself "Oh my gosh!!! HOW?!" That made my smile bigger. My coach and I had said 1 hour and 20 minutes was a good goal, based on the recent Achilles issue, nerve stuff, and where I was in training. My time when I crossed the line was 1:20:17. I could not have nailed it any closer. I was right on target. (Did not realize I had my own chaser bike on my tail.) 

I kept smiling, tried to stop without falling, and Daniel was there to give me a high five. He said, "good job Mom" and I replied with "I can't feel my legs!" I stopped, stood there, got my medal and a cupcake (yes!!!), and told Amanda "I can't feel my legs." I could barely stand. My legs were shot. I couldn't feel myself walking.

Daniel and I were asked for a finish line photo with our medals, took the picture, were handed a water, and then walked to the photo booth. We waited in line and devoured our cupcakes (which were amazing). I sent a text to my coach and got a message from Lori, so chatted with her a bit.

Daniel and I got our photos and I still could not walk or feel anything. We went to get food, piled our plates high, grabbed drinks, and went up to the VIP balcony. Walking up there, especially up the stairs, was an interesting feat.

We got to the balcony and Daniel immediately sat down. I told him he was going to regret that. He didn't care. He was wiped out. I stood and ate. Took the shoes off. Ate more. Drank water. Ate more. Kept texting. Patrick joined us. He sat down and said, "I'm so sore." Daniel almost went across the table to choke him as I said, "Don't you even say that - take your little volunteer shirt and go get these runners another drink." Daniel was mouthing off worse than that. Patrick's lucky to still be able to walk and talk. Note to others - if you did not run a race - do not stand next to people who just finished running up a mountain and say that anything hurts or is sore. Just don't do it.

Eventually I decided to go walk to the car and get my duffel bag so I could change into something more comfortable. Daniel decided to walk with me and get his phone. We stopped on the way back to get more food for him, and another chocolate milk for me. Back up the stairs we went. Ugh.

Lori had finished and was at our table. We celebrated a bit and then I took my shoes off, put on my flip flops, and went inside to change.

When I came back out, I finally sat down. I then decided to tell my coach that I was ready to go run it again. He replied with "Um. Go eat some more." I cracked up. He probably had a good point. My brain functioning was not at its best at this point. But I was starting to have feeling in my legs again.

I tried to eat a little more but then felt nauseous. I could feel the energy just being zapped completely out of my body. I was tired.

We made plans to get together at 3:00 and go to an early dinner so Lori could get back for the concert and the boys and I could possibly leave for home when we dropped her off at the park.

When we got to Dad's, I immediately took a shower, then wrapped both legs with huge ice packs. I sat down on the bed and organized and packed my stuff. I could feel my eyes getting heavy. I uploaded pictures. Could barely stay awake at this point. We decided to leave then for dinner, because if we waited 20 more minutes, I'd be sound asleep.

We met Lori at the parking garage near the park and then headed over to El Rodeo. The restaurant had obviously changed ownership and did not live up to the standard we'd come to expect after 20+ years of going there. But, we had a good dinner, good conversation, and some down time.

We dropped Lori and Amanda back off at the garage and headed back to Dad's. On the drive back, I thought about the lyrics to the song "Just Haven't Seen it Yet." I smiled and thought, "but I'm starting to see the rays of light from that sunrise." I thought about the day and asked myself if I would change anything about how it went, or any decision I made. The answer was no. I was perfectly happy and content with the way things went and had absolutely no regrets. It was a great race day. That feels good to say.

At this point, there is no way I'm driving 4 hours to Knoxville tonight, so we are just vegging out and hanging out with Dad and Nellie. I don't know how long I'll be able to stay awake at this point, but it's so nice to just stand (not sitting or I'd be asleep) and talk.

I'm sure I left out some details and will remember other things to add later, but for now, this is my race recap. More pictures are sure to come and I'll post more tomorrow.



Daniel's finish photos:

Disaster in the Making?

We drove up the race route after dinner. When we got to the top of Mill Mountain we parked, got out, and walked around. Daniel jogged a little of the path around the top. The rest of us took a nice stroll, stopping for photos and just making conversation. Walking up the path back to the car, I felt some cramping in my calf and some nerve pain on the outsides of my ankles.

We took Lori back to her hotel, drove to my Dad’s, said goodnight to Amanda, and retreated to our rooms.

8:30 PM - I was ready to call it. Text to coach.

9:00 PM - In tears, torn between what’s safe, what keeps me running, what’s just irrational fear, and what is just emotion taking over. By this time, both of the twin coaches were trying to get me refocused, but I could not shake the nagging feeling that I really should not be doing this race tomorrow. Deciding not to run is agonizing for me. This time is especially difficult because it doesn’t just impact me. Daniel is looking forward to this attempt at the toughest road race in America. I get it, and I want to do it too (again), but right now I’m questioning the sanity of this attempt.

10:15 PM - Calmer. Knew I was going to at least show up for the race. Decided to get sleep and hope things look and feel better in the morning.

1:19 AM - Jolted awake by searing nerve pain throughout my lower body. By 1:40 AM everything from my waist down was on fire. By 2:00 it had traveled throughout my entire body. I had to get out of bed and move around. Then the numbness began in the typical places - face, tops of forearms, various spots along legs.

2:45 AM - The pain is easing, but now the tingling around my scalp tells me a migraine is not far away. I have now had just 3 hours of sleep, there are signs that the nerve pain and numbness will be at their highest levels of intensity again today, and I’m back to wondering if I should even attempt to run.

As a runner, pre-race anxiety is nothing new. As someone who has dealt with this crazy autoimmune neurological stuff for seven years, nothing I’m experiencing with the pain is new or different. But reconciling the two and figuring out if I can (or should) run through this is daunting.

Now that the worst of the pain has eased and there’s more numbness than pain, I’m going to attempt to get another hour to hour-and-a-half of sleep. I really hope the next blog update is a lot more cheerful and fun.

Least Expected Change of Plans

This morning was one of the most painful I've had in a long time. Every nerve in my body feels like it's on fire. I was barely able to stand, much less walk, when I got up. I had a fitful night of sleep and was awake every hour. It's been a while since I've felt this bad.

Every shooting pain reminds me of why I started on this journey again. Why I decided to run again, despite the odds. Why I decided to go full in and put the Anthem 10K and the Rock Tahoe Half on my race calendar. The fact that I can feel the pain means I am still here and still moving and able to try. The more I move the easier the pain gets. So no matter how much it hurts this morning, I know by mid-day or afternoon I'll be moving better and with less pain, so I keep moving. 

My sons and I have been enjoying the fact that they have the same free 30 minutes every morning when they get to school as I do, and we've been texting quite regularly every morning about random things. This morning the discussion was what to pack for this weekend in Roanoke, as both boys have decided to go with me. 

Daniel then started his own conversation with me. He asked if he'd be running a 5K this weekend. I explained there wasn't one, but he could do the 1 mile if he wanted. He asked what I was doing. I told him 10K. He asked if he could do it with me. I explained that it is a very difficult run, the first 3.5 is up a mountain, the second 2.5 is down a mountain, and that he could not sprint this or try to win this. He expressed his understanding of all of this but said he still wanted to do the race with me.

So, it looks like I'll have a running partner for the 10K. Not one I ever dreamed of having - but SO excited about it.

How Did We Get Here?!

I cannot believe there's only two more days and then race day!!!

How on earth did we get here so fast?! These past four months have flown by, though at times they definitely seemed to be creeping by. Slowly. Really slow on some days (miles).

So where am I medically and physically going into this race?

Not where I wanted to be. But so much further than I was four months ago.

The past few days have been very painful. The nerves are not liking the current heat wave. Yesterday's run was excruciatingly painful, and had to be cut short. Tonight's run hurt a lot - but it was more manageable than yesterday. Right now I want to go sit in a bathtub full of ice to numb it all.

I had an MRI  yesterday. Achilles seems to have healed. Doctors are pretty sure it's all nerve stuff from the autoimmune neurological mess again.

Medically I am still getting a green light and told to enjoy the race. I go for three more follow-ups with three different doctors/specialists next week when I get back. No end to that fun in sight.

I've noticed a huge difference in my running and level of pain based on the weather. It's been enlightening and frustrating at the same time.

Despite the pain, I'm ready to run. I've had a bunch of ups and downs emotionally in the past couple of weeks, as notification after notification of more responders dying from 9/11 have come through, and as I was contacted regarding the lack of WTC care in TN. I am so incredibly thankful for the people like John Feal who are out there fighting for us. I honestly could not fight on my own. It's all I can do to get through the constant medical exams and treatments, get up each day and get everyone up and out the door on time, go to work and do the best I can to do my job, come home and take care of my family, house, yard and daily life, and squeeze run training in on top of it. Running has become my therapy again. Some days it hurts like crazy - but it still helps with the emotional healing. Some days it is wonderful - and those highs get me through a lot of the darker days. I have this insane group of people, including my coach and one of my best friends, who have kept me laughing through it all the past week, and I've noticed how much better my attitude has been because of it. I'm so grateful for them and their friendship.

So, physically, I think (and am almost certain) I can survive the 10K up and down Mill Mountain - but I don't think it's going to be easy or as fun as I'd hoped this year would be. Emotionally - I'm ready and thankful I can run.

Now... as far as packing, knowing what I'm wearing on race day or being ready to actually drive four hours to Roanoke and get through race weekend.... I've got some work to do. Guess I should go get started.

Water Recovery

I love the pool. I love swimming. I love water.

I was feeling a lot of aches and soreness from yesterday's run. My back, my legs, my abs, my arms (?!) and my whole body hurt. But by noon, all I wanted to do was go to the pool and relax.

I grabbed my pool bag, got my girls ready, and the three of us headed to the gym. The indoor pool was almost completely empty. Yay. I knew the outside pool was open, but it was a little cold, and I wanted the comfort of the indoor heated pool. I let the girls go do their thing and started swimming some easy laps. Within the first few laps I felt the muscles relaxing and my mind calming.

With every stroke, I relaxed more and felt the anxiety, stress, doubts, fears, worries, and frustration leave my mind. I also felt the muscles as they effortlessly propelled my body in the familiar motions through the water.

There is some powerful healing that comes from water. It has always been a soother of my soul. I don't know why I don't spend more time at the pool or at the lake.

Oh - that's right. It's because my time is already so limited that it is nearly impossible to squeeze in time to go be in or on the water. But - summer's coming. I will definitely have to work on the water time this summer.

38 minutes and 1400 yards later, I was wiped out. But in a good way. I got out, dried off, called for my girls to get out of the pool, and spent a few minutes talking to a couple of the swim coaches. By the time I got home, I felt like a new person. A very tired person, but so much more "chill."

We spent a lazy evening as I got things together for the week of work & school, figured out lesson plans for an upcoming unannounced observation, and got the boys birthday banners hung.

I'd almost completely relaxed when everything came crashing down around me. I just took a deep breath, sighed and acknowledged that I should really enjoy those fleeting hours when they come, because they never last.

As exhausted as I was, the sudden upheaval had me wanting an outlet. I couldn't run. Shouldn't do the elliptical. But I could do something. So I worked on my arms until the point of exhaustion again. By the time I was done, and had vented to my best friend, I was ready for bed. I couldn't fix the problem tonight and was determined to forget about it. So, I got in bed and watched my fave show.

I drifted off fairly easy. But, here I am, 12:30 AM, and I'm wide awake. I'm not in the mood for continued discussion with friends, am too irritable to focus on a book or anything, and don't want to wake anyone else up. So - I decided on my next favorite go-to activity -- writing.

Now that I've poured it all out on "paper" - I'm going to try to sleep again. Of all weeks, this is not the one that needs to have disrupted sleep or crazy chaos going on. But - again - there's nothing I can do about it tonight - so off to bed again I go.

Ugh. Hills. Double ugh.

That was brutal.

That was insanely hard, frustrating and defeating.

Those hills were horrible.

But I made it 3.5 miles. Some of it was walking. Mostly walking uphill. But it was still 3.5 miles.

I managed to start off relatively slower, and my lungs were fine with the easy pace, but my legs were heavy and tired. I even managed to run most of the way up the very long hill 1. But my lungs were ON FIRE by the time I got to the top and it took forever to recover. By the time I got to the start of hill 2, I wanted to quit. My goal changed to just surviving 3 miles. I decided to walk up part of the hill. It still took forever to recover. Hill 3 almost did me in. By the time I got to the top of the street and turned to go downhill, I was exhausted. I knew I still had to make it home though. I decided to get through the downhill portion and let myself walk again when I got to the street in my neighborhood. Once I got there, walked a minute, and started running again, I felt somewhat better. I ran a tiny bit up the last hill and instead of turning towards home, felt like I could go ahead and run a little more. So my 3.0 turned into 3.5. I felt much better at the end of the run than I did on the hills, but it was still very difficult, and definitely didn't feel great.

I cannot stop wondering what's going to happen next Saturday. These hills were 1/10 of what I'm going to be doing going up Mill Mountain. Everyone keeps telling me I'll be fine, and I'll be ready, and I'll do great, but I can't get my own brain to wrap around those thoughts. All I see is the giant struggle trying to do little hills here and struggling to get through 3.5 miles.

Tomorrow's another rest day, but I can swim if I want. I'll be lucky if I can move or walk tomorrow. I'm definitely going to feel this run.

3.5 miles; 44:20; lots of uphill; 12:43 pace
11:51, 13:11, 12:22, 6:35

Breakthrough or Breaking?

All day long I fought a sinus headache, nerve pain, fatigue and some irritability. I thought I was supposed to feel better after a rest day. Nonetheless, I headed out for a 2 mile run. I thought I was holding back and wasn't going too fast, and actually felt like I was going in slow motion, but my lungs protested and begged to differ. My legs felt great. But my lungs burned the entire time. I knew at the end of the 2 miles, there was no way I could have held that pace another minute, much less another mile. I knew I needed to figure out how to slow down and hold back. I have no idea how I'm going to make it 3 miles tomorrow, much less 6 miles next Saturday, if I can't figure out how to pace myself.

I ended up going 2.07 in 22:13, with a 10:43 average pace.

My coach's reaction was about what I expected. We came up with a plan for me to add some hills tomorrow to slow me down and mimic next week's race a little more closely. I'm not sure how I'm going to survive 3 miles, especially with hills, but I guess we'll see.

The good news is - I felt much better after my run than I did before it!

Better Together

Group Run has grown on me. I've found that even when I can't keep up or have to stop earlier than the others, I still enjoy that time with other runners. Tonight I only did 2 miles as promised, and it was tough to get through those two. My lungs are still trying to catch up with my legs. But, I kept a good pace near 11 min/mile and got through the entire 2 running. Progress.

Gradual increase

Today's goal - hold back and run slower than yesterday - but go a further distance.

Check.

1.52 miles in 16:50; 11:07 pace

I'm okay with that.

Especially because I was able to run the entire 1.5 without a walk break (though it was a lot more difficult than yesterday), and there was no pain or numbness.

I'm not where I was or where I want to be with the race 11 days away - but all things considered - I'm good. I'm just happy to be able to run again.

Tomorrow I attempt to go back to the group run - but I've already promised to not try to keep up with the fast kids and do my own 2 miles. Then - Thursday - I don't think I'm going to complain that it says "rest day" on my schedule.

GREEN LIGHT!!!

My morning started off as crazy as it possibly could have. It was insane. My ortho appointment got moved from 3:30 PM to 10:30 AM. I had an IEP meeting at 8:30 that I knew was going to take a while. I needed to catch my coach up on the sudden battery of tests and things my doctor was doing, I needed to catch up with my co-teachers. But all I could do was rush to my meeting, rush out the door to the doctor, blindside my coach from the waiting room (still cringing), and rush back to work and finish my work day.

So... about the doctors. The ortho decided to do the x-ray and MRI as planned. There was no structural damage to my leg or foot. No muscle issues. No bone issues. The ortho agreed with my doctor that not running for 12 days after running 4-5 days a week likely caused the nerve flare up. It’s also likely the Achilles injury inflammed some nerves and tissues. For now, they are going to wait on the nerve conduction study. They want me to get back into my running routine. They think the peroneal nerve is slightly compressed, but that once I get going again, it will decompress itself. They ruled out road impact causing any of this. They encouraged me to keep swimming, try biking, and stretch and ice as needed. But, the ortho said he wanted me to run. He also gave me some new “rules” for running. There are several more things I have to be on the lookout for, but I can, and should run. I asked a billion questions. The ortho my doc sent me to was as awesome as she is. He took his time and answered every question. He had a very calming voice and was very thorough. He has obviously dealt with a lot of athletes. He also understood the 9/11-neurotoxin exposure chaos, and knew I was not going to be a textbook case. He carefully outlined my med plan, which includes another MRI, a potential muscle reactory exam (ouch), the potential for a nerve conduction study later down the road, and possible decompression of the nerve if it doesn’t decompress itself. By the time I left I felt my doctors had this entire mess under control and I really was okay to run. But, it’s funny, doctor says okay to run, ortho says okay to run, coach says okay to run, and then I say “I don’t want to run! It’s going to hurt!” After days (weeks) of begging to hurry up and let me run. Go figure.

I relayed all of the new rules to my coach, who had no concerns about following them, and we made a tentative training plan and discussed race plans. Then I freaked out. Race day in 12 days... there’s no way I can be ready for 6.2 miles, including 3 uphill. Coach was much more confident than me.

The plan was volleyball tonight, first run tomorrow, but volleyball got canceled, so that led to... 1 mile run today.

Gulp.

I was literally trembling. I was terrified to run. What if they were wrong? What if the Achilles tears? What if the ankle hurts? What if the nerve pain and paresthesia get worse? What if I can’t run? What if I can’t go a mile? It took 3 months to get me to 4.5 miles. There’s no way I can be ready for 6.2 in 12 days. Why should I risk it?

As I fired questions at myself, I got my running clothes on. Pulled back my hair. Laced up the sneakers. Put on my watch. Walked out the door. Took a hundred deep breaths. Hit start. Began running. My watch beeped “ahead of pace.” Slowed down. Tried to hold back and settle into comfortable, slow rhythm. Focused on watching every step and regulating my breathing. Didn’t look at watch again. Felt legs burning a little. Felt lungs burning. No pain. No numbness. Kept running. Got to turn back. Debated a walk break. Neighbor at end of road was at mailbox... turned and said, “You’re looking great. Good to see you back.” I managed a smile, a thank you, and a “have a great evening “ reply. I kept running. I kept smiling. I turned back into the neighborhood. Smiled bigger. Turned on our block. Heard my kids screaming “Mom’s running!” Heard watch beep 1 mile. Looked at watch. Burst into tears. While still smiling huge like a fool. I’m so glad I went for a run. The top and side of my ankle were tender and sore, but no pain. I ran my entire first mile back!

1.01 in 10:14

What?!?!

I thought I was running cautiously. I thought I was holding back. How was I faster?!

I went inside, grabbed a water and my giant ice pack. Plugged in my watch to upload data. Text my coach even though I knew he was busy at track. Cried again.

This is what caused the second round of happy tears...

 

I can’t stop smiling.

But... I can breathe  again.