The right brain

The spiral fascial line.

I am pleased to report that the mystery source of the knee pain that has plagued me for months appears to be solved, and I am just ecstatic that I found the right brain to help me figure this mess out.  The mark of a good healer is someone who can find the hidden issue at the source of the chain of symptoms you might be experiencing.  Up until yesterday, I had been treating the symptoms of my problem.

This new Miracle Worker is Dr. Justin Lau of Elite Spinal and Sports Care.  I know Dr. Lau and have seen him in the past for treatment of minor niggles including recovery after a car crash in 2009.  He is very good which also means he's hard to get in to see.  Two weeks ago, I was lucky enough to get in to see him.   A quick inspection was all it took for him to locate the massive knot in my left quad, and he worked the bejesus out of it.  It seemed pretty straightforward that a tight quad and IT band would pull on my kneecap and cause the pain that I was feeling.  He told me to run the next day and let him know how it went.

I ran the next day and my knee hurt.  Since I got the cortisone shot in my IT band, I have been running, every other day, for a few minutes at a time with walk breaks for up to 15 minutes total.  When I ran last week after Dr. Lau's treatment, the pain in my knee started up within the first 1/4 mile.  This pain was a sharp, biting pain that felt like it was coming from my kneecap.  I was disappointed, to say the least.

I sent Dr. Lau a message that day, and he told me that this was good information.  He explained what he thought might be happening.  It is very clear that my quad and IT band are tight, but they may be tightening to stabilize my body because of imbalances elsewhere.  He said on the next visit, he would work on my spiral fascial line only rather than my lateral fascial line.

I was in a holding pattern for a week, waiting for an appointment to see him, and I got really anxious about the lack of progress I was making.  My knee was now hurting me when I walked around a lot.  The time it felt best was after swimming, but it was now starting to hurt after I rode the elliptical.  What I did discover on my own during that time was that, when I iced my butt, I felt immediate relief in my knee.  So, the light bulb started to come on for me that the pain in my knee was somehow connected to my butt, which doesn't hurt.  I also found some little gremlins inside my butt muscle when I rolled around on a ball.

I was starting to get desperate and decided to try to rule out any structural reasons for the knee pain like a torn meniscus, or chipped patella.  If I needed surgery, I wanted to know sooner rather than later.  I was able to quickly get in for an MRI yesterday (Friday) after calling my doc on Wednesday.  Thanks, Kaiser!  The results are still pending, but I have a feeling they will be negative.

Because…

I got a call from Dr. Lau's office Friday morning offering me an afternoon appointment, and I snatched it up quickly.  Dr. Lau worked my lats, obliques and butt muscles (not sure which ones exactly, but it hurt like hell).  At the end of the treatment, I asked why he didn't touch my quad and IT band.  He explained that he wanted to see whether or not treating the other stuff relieved the pain in my knee.  It was a little experiment.  He sent me on my way and told me to run and report back.  He also gave me stretches for my butt, lats and the outside of my leg.  I wasted no time and went directly to the gym to run on the treadmill.  I had my bathing suit on underneath, expecting I would end up swimming soon after I started running.

I started at about an 8:30 pace and 1% incline, and it felt a little weird: like my hips were moving around a lot.  I watched the distance click off and just waited for that stabbing pain in my knee to hit.  I got 1/4 mile into it and felt no pain.  Awesome.  I thought I started to feel something cropping up soon after, and I was hoping to make it to 0.50 miles.  That came and went.  Then, the 1.00 mile mark passed, and I still felt great.  I wondered how long I should go.  Should I stop and walk a bit?  Nah.  I kept going for 2, and then 3 miles with no pain.  I got the pace up to 7:45 min/mile and that felt great.  Dr. Lau had mentioned that I needed to make sure I wasn't running artificially slow because that would throw my body out of whack.  I was built to run faster and running slower would cause more problems at this point.   He didn't mean that I should go out at 5:50 pace, which I probably couldn't hold for long now anyway, but I had been trying to run 9 minute pace thinking that was a good thing.

I got to that 3 mile mark and decided that was a good test run for the day.  I then jumped in the pool for 30 minutes of swimming.

Today, I feel no pain in my knee at all.  I suspect my body will go back to its old ways over the next couple of weeks, but I know what I need to work on.  As long as all goes well, I will start ramping my mileage up, gradually, over the next couple of weeks and be back to hard training in no time.  I watched the USA 1/2 Marathon Championships this morning and didn't feel a bit of sadness about not being there.  It was just cool to have qualified to race in it.  I'll be there next year anyway to run three loops of that course!  

I think (hope) I'm on the road again, but I still say that this holiday away from running has given my body a needed break.  I am not at all worried about coming back.  I actually think I will be a faster runner as a result of all of this.  And, I found another Miracle Worker in Sacramento.  We are lucky people, living in this town.  I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again out on the bike trail!

For Buddy

I lost one of my best friends on Monday of this week: my 10-year-old Coonhound, Buddy.  The thoughts of the happiness Buddy brought to my life are just beginning to supplant my sorrow, but I wanted to honor Buddy by filling this space with memories of his happy soul.

Buddy in the cat bad.

Buddy came to me from Yuba City, California.  I saw him on line when I was looking to adopt a companion for my rambunctious puppy, Sadie.  From his dogmatch.com photo I could see he was beautiful, mostly white with large black spots on his body in all the best places.  When I contacted his foster dad about him, I said I was looking for an energetic companion for my other dog.  I could sense the reservation in his email response when he said that Buddy might not be the best guy for that job.  

Buddy in the Sierras.

I learned that Buddy had been found wandering the streets of Yuba City and was nearly starved to death.  I believe Buddy might have been owned by a hunter originally.  The problem was that Buddy was terrified of gunfire.  I suspect he ran off after shots were fired never to be found by his owner again.  Or maybe he was dumped off somewhere when his fear was discovered.  Buddy had separation anxiety that eased over the years but never quite went away.  When his foster dad took him in, he weighed 35 pounds.  He got Buddy up to 55 before I became his dog mom.     

Buddy and Sadie.  Friends for life.

The picture on the right was taken the day I adopted Buddy and the day he first met Sadie.  From the very instant they locked paws, they were inseparable.  I love these pictures from that first meeting because they so vividly capture the joy in their doggie eyes.  The two of them spent no more than 5 days apart from then on.

Nobody really knew how old Buddy was, and you certainly couldn't tell by the way he acted.  When I first adopted him, people would say, "Oh, look at that nice old dog," to which I would respond, "He's one."  He had a predictable, easy-going temperament and that's what endeared him to everyone he met.  Buddy loved to dance.  He greeted everyone he met by rearing up on his back legs and gracefully falling forward, trusting that his partner would grab his paws and engage in his waltz.   

Buddy hiking at Dye Creek.

Buddy was remarkable in that when his nose took over his body, he had the energy of a new puppy, even up until a couple of weeks before he died.  As a scent hound, he was a slave to his nose.  When I took him out where I could let him run free, his nose would turn on and his ears would shut off.  You would hear his hound dog bay in the distance for what seemed miles away.  I would call his name until I was hoarse, but he wouldn't return until he was done with his job.  

The Dog Van.

Buddy loved to go for car rides and became ecstatic when he heard the word Bu-bye from me.  He really didn't seem to care where we were going, he just didn't want to be left behind.  For a while, I had a VW Vanagon that I got specifically for my dogs, so I could let them lay down in the bed in back and snooze while we took off for some grand adventure.  We went on many camping trips in that van up until I sold it this last summer.  

Buddy at the top of Fiske Peak.

One of my favorite camping rituals was our annual Thanksgiving trip to the Capay Valley here in California.  There is a small campground near a challenging trail that leads to the top of Fiske Peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  I started taking the dogs there for Thanksgiving in 2003.  We would hike to the top of the peak, sign our names in the 'guestbook' stored in its protective glass jar, and then head back down.  Buddy always led the way up and down the mountain.  He also ran more than three times what I hiked, chasing anything that he could track.  At the end of our day, the pups would lay in the creek to cool themselves down and I would take them to McDonald's for a cheeseburger on the way home.

Buddy was a very gentle soul and loved everyone.  His personality was in stark contrast to his sister, Sadie, who likes few people and even fewer dogs.  When we would encounter kids that wanted to pet my "dalmatians" I would send Buddy in as the greeter.  He loved kids and would gladly roll over anywhere and let them pat his belly, scratch his ears or even pull on his tail.  He didn't care.  The video above pretty much exemplifies Buddy's personality.

Buddy and his pink purse.

Buddy was afraid of bed snakes.  He would sleep on my bed at night before I would get into bed.  But, when I went to get under the covers, the bed snakes would start moving toward him and his eyes would become saucer-like as he leapt off of the bed and headed to his futon in his room.  He would remain curled up on his futon until he heard me stir in the morning.  I could hear his little doggie nails on the wood floor clicking as he made his way into the bedroom and settled in next to me on the bed, waiting for his daily morning feeding and walk.  

Clever Buddy finds the cat food.

There has always been some question about Buddy's intelligence.  His pal Sadie can without question do calculus in her head, but Buddy always acted like a simple boy.  I now know that this was truly an act.  For example, Buddy was a mastermind at getting food off of counters when I would leave anything within Buddy reach.  Sadie no doubt got most of the spoils of his efforts but his climbing skills were certainly a benefit to them both.  Just a few months ago, I noticed that we were going through cat food like crazy, but the cats didn't seem to be gaining a proportionate amount of weight.  I was laying in bed one morning when I heard a clanking in the cat's room and walked in just as Buddy was exiting the convenient staircase I had given him to access the cat food.  I wondered how long he had been at this.  Clever boy.

Buddy loved to run and could go for miles and miles without tiring--as long as there was a scent to follow.  On a leash and at my side, Buddy lagged.  When I ran with my dogs, I would feel a little contorted with Sadie pulling on the leash moving forward, and Buddy dragging on his leash from behind.  I think buddy just wasn't built to be a hobby jogger.  His true running talent was reserved for the times when he needed to get a move on.

Buddy in his pillow nest.  The bed was made before he got in.  Really.

I still see Buddy on a daily basis when I walk past my bedroom and glance at the pillows where he would make his nest for his daily naps or on the futon where he would lay curled up at night in his room.  His hair still carpets the floor of the house and forms Buddy bunnies in the corners of every room.  I can't bring myself to vacuum it all up just yet.  My life will indeed go on but in a way that is richer for having loved Buddy.  

I miss you Buddy Boy.  

A Natural

I find it hard to believe that someone actually used this term to describe me in relation to my swimming abilities.  The words graceful and smooth were also thrown in there.  I thought this might be a fluke until I heard it again, and then again from complete strangers.  I’m not sure when or where, but at some point in my life (perhaps a previous one), I learned to swim.

 

In my last post, I reported practically drowning the first time I strayed from my pool running routine and attempted to actually swim—without a flotation device.  I was pretty embarrassed after that but was also somewhat intrigued by the challenge.  For a couple more weeks, I kept tacking on 10-15 minutes of swimming at the end of my pool running.  Then, pool running was taken away from me as a form of cross training because it was aggravating my illitobial (IT) band.

With my cross training options dwindling, something miraculous happened when I gave swimming just a little more practice.  I became good at it, and it became fun--pretty much over night.  I have worked up to swimming (mostly the crawl stroke) for an hour straight and typically don’t want to get out of the pool at the end of the hour.  I feel awesome after a pool workout.  Granted, I’m not going fast yet.  I’m simply swimming steadily, lap after lap.  I have even advanced to the “Michael Phelps” breathing pattern of one breath every 4 strokes alternated with two to one when needed.  I can even do a flip turn.

Oh, right.  This is supposed to be a blog about running. 

Well, I have not run for nearly 10 weeks now.  I have attempted to run to test my IT band, and I still have pain on the outside of my kneecap that tells me that I’m not fully healed.  Someone asked soon after the Athens Marathon (where I did this damage) whether I regretted running it.  I joked, “ask me in a month when I’m still not running.”  Prescient, I am.

It’s now been more than two months since I incurred this damage, and I still don’t regret it.  There have been some mighty lows in this injury roller coaster ride, but it has also been rejuvenating.  When I feel really low, like I’ll never be able to run again, I feel sorry for myself and wallow.  But, those times have been few and far between.  Mostly, I remind myself that I haven’t taken a major break from running in 6 years, have run 17 marathons and countless other races in that time and just qualified for the Olympic Trials.  A 10+ week break is merely a blip.

This injury cycle has made me look at myself differently too.  Whereas I used to call myself a runner, I now realize I am more than that—I am an athlete.  I have chosen to concentrate on running as my primary sport, but I enjoy being fit.  I enjoy working out.  I like trying new things and becoming better at them. 

The future is still unknown.

I’m not sure anyone aside from the Miracle Worker and me fully appreciate just how much damage I did to my leg during the Athens Marathon.  It honestly doesn’t surprise me that I’m still recovering, though that doesn’t mean I like it.  I think it’s kind of funny that, last fall I was questioning whether or not I was tough enough to handle the pain of running.  I guess I am pretty damned tough—maybe tougher than I should be if I want to run injury free.  The thing I do know is that I do not want to run with pain.  I will take whatever break is needed to get there.  There is no glory in running through pain.

A couple of weeks ago, Lino (aka Miracle Worker) took a look at my leg and told me it was time for a cortisone shot in my IT band.  Coach Tom concurred with this.  While my quad muscle is healing nicely, the IT band has been in a constant state of inflammation and needs intervention to break that cycle.  Lino explained that there is so little blood flow to the IT band that it is really slow to heal.  The inflammation at this late stage in the game further inhibits the healing.  

I was lucky to be able to get an appointment through my HMO for yesterday to get this done.  The shot was not very painful, but the injection site is still tender.  I have easy cross training planned for the next couple of weeks with a few trial runs, including a short (1 mile) run tomorrow.  I hope that pain and running will no longer be linked for me in the near future.  I promise to keep you all updated on my progress.

Happy New Year!

It's about time!

After a bit of a break, I am finally starting to ramp up my running again.  Let's be clear here: the ramp in my ramp up is closer to the ADA-approved end of the scale than a Mount Everest-like increase, but I did run 2.5 pain free miles yesterday.  These days, that achievement is like climbing a mountain.

I discussed in my last post how my adventure in Athens left me damaged.  A few weeks ago, I expected that a rest from running along with a sensible cross-training program would get me back to running fairly quickly.  I also trusted my self-diagnosis of a stressed out IT band.  Alas, until last week, my knee was not feeling better and every attempt to run left me limping in pain within a half mile.

I finally went to see the Miracle Worker.  As always, his enlightened analysis of my injury was key.  First, he pointed out that I have a "sprinter's legs" versus "marathoner's legs".  This means that my quads are meaty compared to the rest of my leg muscles.  The main injury I sustained was damage to one of my quad muscles, the vastus lateralis, and it was cramped up in a little ball.  He had me feel the suppleness of that same muscle on my other leg as a comparison.  The balled-up nature of the vastus lateralis was pushing out on the illitobial (IT) band.  The IT band cannot stretch, per se, so it pulls at the attachment points and rubs along the protuberance on the end of the femur causing my knee pain.  So, until I got the quad under control, I could roll and stretch my IT band all I wanted to no avail.  He prescribed regular rolling on a tennis ball (not a quadballer or foam roller) to break up the adhesions in the muscle and relax it.  I am finally able to roll on it without crying, and my IT pain is gone.  I can now run until my quad balls up again and irritates the IT.  That amounts to about 2-3 miles, every other day.

The Miracle Worker also pointed out that my favorite form of cross training, bicycling, was not doing my injury any favors.  He did not tell me to stop doing it because he really doesn't like to restrict cross training activities.  He made it clear that I would be exacerbating my problem by continuing to train hard on the bike and stress my quad muscles.  That news sucked to hear because it eliminated one of my cross training options.  I am now left with pool running and the elliptical machine.

I have added some spice to my elliptical training by reading books on my iPad.  This actually really helps to pass the time, especially when the book is good.  I've read the first book in the Stieg Larsson Millenium trilogy and am part way through the second.  I can't read and do hard intervals, so I try to limit my elliptical training to the days where I don't have a workout to do.

I save my workouts for the pool.  I do all of my running at the local YMCA where I buy a $10 day pass.  I throw on my floaty belt, my waterproof iPod headset, my pre-programmed Garmin 310 XT, and I'm ready to roll.  One of my favorite hard workouts in the pool is the pool ladder, where I do 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 minutes hard with 1 minute easy running in between.  I don't mind the tedium of pool running when I have a job to do in the pool and find it to be a really good workout.  The "hard" running amounts to moving my little arms and legs as fast as I can underwater.  This can become quite exhausting.

I became adventurous last week when there were very few people in the pool and decided I would spend my cool down swimming rather than pool running.  I started with a modest breast stroke and felt pretty comfortable with that after a couple of laps.   I then busted out my crawl stroke.  I wasn't quite sure how to breathe with this stroke, so I recalled that Michael Phelps used a 4 stroke to 1 breath pattern in the Olympics.  By the second stroke, I had exhaled all of my air, started taking water into my lungs, and began flailing around very excitedly in the middle of the lane.  At one point, I thought I saw the lifeguard running toward my lane with a flotation ring to save me, but he passed by to attend to something else on the other side of the pool.  I regained my composure and decided to try breathing with every other stroke.  That was much better.  I was able to make it the entire length of the pool without having to stop.  In fact, I was moving faster than the guy in the lane next to me.  I was feeling pretty good at the end of the 10 minutes alternating between breast and crawl strokes.  As I got out of the pool, I noticed that the "slow" guy in the lane next to me had hobbled over to an aluminum walker and used it to make his way to the locker room.  Perfect.  I was patting myself on the back for being a faster swimmer than a disabled person.  I felt like a huge loser.

You may have already gathered that I am going to have to pass on the 1/2 marathon championships in Houston.  This is really not a big deal to me.  It would have been nice to compete in a race of that caliber and preview the Olympic Trials course, but I will not be in any shape by the end of January to run a decent half.  Plus, I don't like the added pressure that having an upcoming race brings when recovering from an injury.  I want my body to determine when I'm ready to start training again.  That was a lesson learned from my achilles injury last winter.  I pushed myself to return to running pretty fast.  In a way, I think I am paying for that now.  My body needs to heal; not just my IT band and quad but the rest of me too.  And, I really have all the time in the world to let that happen.

A crampy aside...

I was reminded this week about a commonly held belief that many runners have about dehydration causing localized muscle cramps.  Several of my friends ran the California International Marathon and were blessed with fabulous weather conditions: temps in the 50s with no rain or wind.  It actually stopped raining within a couple of hours before the race, so the air was humid at the start.  The humidity started at 100% but dropped to 80% by the 2-hour mark.  The temperature never got over 60 degrees, at least during the first 3-4 hours.  There was a lot of muscle cramping going on at the end of the race which led a few people to hypothesize that the "warm and humid" conditions caused them to become dehydrated and that resulted in their localized muscle cramping.

I remembered that the Science of Sports bloggers discussed muscle cramps in a series back in 2007 on the subject.  Basically, there isn't a scientifically rigorous explanation for why muscles cramp at the end of strenuous exercise like running a marathon or triathlon.  They do cover why dehydration and loss of electrolytes are likely not a causal factor.  Here are a couple of teasers from their initial post on the subject:

• "Despite the theory that muscle cramps are caused by electrolyte and fluid depletion, it has yet to be shown that people who cramp have lower electrolyte levels or are more dehydrated than those who do not. In fact, the studies have found that "Crampers" and "Non-crampers" have similar electrolyte and dehydration levels. Something wrong with that picture...

• If cramps are caused by electrolyte and fluid depletion, which muscles would be most likely to cramp? Would it not be ALL the muscles, because you're losing electrolytes and fluid through sweat, so then all the muscle groups should be vulnerable...yet for some reason, we cramp in the muscles we actually USE. Again, something out of place there."

When I first read this series, I was blown away because I thought that dehydration causing muscle cramping was a law of nature.  It turns out that heavy marketing by big companies like Gatorade might be a primary reason behind why so many people still think this is true.  Happy reading! 

Hello, normal

When your nose is so close to the paper, you quickly forget that what you're writing is a novel and not just one word at a time. ~Me

I always find it interesting to come out the other side of a major experience or event and look back on the craziness that preceded it.  Of course, when I'm part of the craziness I don't realize how skewed my life is.  After running two marathons and having two of the most amazing experiences of my life, it's nice to finally settle into a lifestyle that feels somewhat normal again.

I haven't run since Athens.  Maybe I should say that I can't run right now.  Normally, I would be scratching at the cage, raring to get out and run.  Instead, I am perfectly content letting my body rest and heal.  This is part of my new perspective.

I made a rookie mistake after Chicago.  I did not respect the recovery that my body needed, and it rebelled in a big way.  I think I was equal parts drunk on my major accomplishment and tired from the stressful months that led up to the race.  As happy as I was that I had reached my goal of qualifying for the Olympic Marathon Trials, I was also relieved that I could rest for a bit.  But, I had another marathon to run 3 weeks later.

Instead of sticking it out for another 3 weeks and doing everything I could to allow my body to recover while maintaining my fitness, I short-sheeted the recovery bed.  I did nothing to aid my recovery after Chicago: no stretching, rolling, massage, ice baths.  Nothing.  Huge mistake.  I did however, start running again to keep up my fitness.  My body finally revolted during my long run the week before Athens.  I THEN tried stretching, rolling, massage, but by that time, it was too late.  You know how that story ended: a Pheidippidel assault on Athens and lots of post-race limping.

Lesson #1:  Respect recovery.

What I didn't take in recovery post-Chicago, I am taking now, and I am not the least bit sad about it.  I don't have that panicky feeling like I might be losing fitness right now because I'm not out there running.  I know I can cross train and maintain my fitness.  It's also kind of fun getting out on the bike and riding along the American River Bike Trail, seeing my old friend, the somnambulist lifeguard, at the local YMCA pool for my early pool run and reading e-books on my iPad on the elliptical at the gym.

I told The Genius in Athens, as I was paying little attention to what I was shoveling into my mouth, that I was going to let myself get fat.  He flipped his head around to look at me, and I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes.  I explained, "...relatively fat.  Like 2 pounds." Relief.  My point was really that I needed a break from the diet bookkeeping and the worry about not getting enough carbs, eating too much fat, getting enough nutrients and general fretting about being lean.

My Chicago Marathon experience actually taught me an important lesson about my previous conclusion that leaner = faster.  I think this is still true, but each of us has a personal limit.  As it turns out, I was about a pound heavier and slightly less lean going into Chicago than I was when I ran the Twin Cities Marathon the year before, yet I was fitter and ran much faster.  This wasn't for a lack of trying either.  I felt like I was pushing my lower limits in terms of caloric intake leading up to Chicago, but I just wasn't losing weight.  About a month out from the race, I abandoned my pursuit of a lighter physique and upped my calorie intake for fear of becoming either injured or sick.  That was the right move.

I have not tracked my caloric intake since Chicago and am quite happy about it.  I imagine I will continue to be happy until I notice the buttons on my jeans popping or people commenting on my Swiss genes again.  I don't have any factoids to back this up, but it just feels like body fat is a good thing to have around periodically.  At some point I'll bust out my iPad and get back to recording my food intake.  For now, I'm enjoying the mental break.  And the chocolate.

I don't have a training program yet with my new coach since we're focusing on healing, but I have set my first race for 2011.  My 2:45 marathon qualified me for the National Half Marathon Championships in Houston in late January.  I mentioned to Coach Tom that I was interested in running this but recognized that I won't have time to get into peak shape for it.  He agreed that the experience would be amazing and that I should go for it.  I don't necessarily expect great things in that race, but I also realize that the opportunity to compete in a National Championship race is very rare.  Last year, Shalane Flanagan won the race in her half marathon debut.  I will probably come in close to last, but I don't mind being close to last in a race against the best in the country.

I have also put a bug in the ear of The Nature Conservancy President and CEO, Mark Tercek, about landing a spot on a TNC staff team running the 2012 Safaricom Marathon.  He just ran his first marathon in 20 years at NYC and mentioned in this post on Treehugger.com that he plans to lead a team of TNC staff in the Safaricom marathon as a fundraiser for the Lewa Preserve in Kenya.  This is an amazing race that has you running in this huge nature preserve amongst wild animals on dirt paths.  As a grassland ecologist and a runner, this would be the most amazing experience I can imagine and the type of fundraiser that I could really get behind.  Mr. Tercek said I had a spot on the team if I wanted it, so you better believe I'll be reminding him of that!                      

Athens Classic Marathon 2010 Race Report: The Battle of Marathon

October has been a month of marathon contrast for me. In early October, I experienced one of the most enjoyable and relatively easy marathons in Chicago followed three weeks later by the hardest marathon I have ever run in Athens, Greece.  It seems only fitting that my hardest marathon would be run on the original marathon course where the sole participant died after completing the distance.  

Running the Athens Marathon was truly a great life experience but in many unexpected ways.  As a refresher, I ran this marathon as part of the 2010 World Military Marathon Championships.  Each year, these games are hosted by a different country with member countries sending their best active-duty military marathoners to compete.  The USA uses the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) as the competition from which to pick its team, and I won the military competition at MCM in 2009 earning my spot on the team headed to Greece.     

Every military event is steeped in tradition, military ceremony and lots of time spent mustering.  We were housed at a military installation near the town of Marathon, and the accommodations were fine--much better than the barracks we stayed in Belgrade, Serbia for the 2009 Marathon Championship race.  This one had its resident pack of stray dogs and cats, a common theme throughout the city,  supposedly the result of a government official firing all of the dog catchers in Athens decades ago. This led to the release of all captive animals, precipitated a breeding frenzy and ensuing population explosion.  Our military “resort” was right on the water and, aside from overgrown weeds and trash scattered about, it was perfectly livable. 

Me and my buddy Joanie.

The opening ceremony for the 43rd military marathon games brought a particularly wonderful surprise for me.  As we were standing in formation, listening to the Master of Ceremonies ramble in Greek about something unintelligible but very important, I heard the name, “Joan Benoit Samuelson”.  My ears perked up, and I craned my neck to get a better look.  Sure enough, Joanie was walking hand in hand with some other woman carrying the Olympic flame up the stairs and lit a larger torch in the stadium.  Her escort was Constantina Tomescu-Dita, the most recent female Olympic marathon gold medalist.  So, the race organizers decided to bracket the short span of time that women have competed in the Olympic marathon event by having the first and last Olympic gold medalists light the torch for our military ceremony.  Holy crap.  I was beaming like a star-struck kid and immediately began plotting my plan of attack for the perfect photo opportunity.  

It turns out that getting my picture taken with Joanie was a piece of cake.  I armed one of my teammates with my camera and approached Joanie with a big smile and outstretched hand, kindly reminding her that I had run with her for a short time in Chicago.  She, of course didn’t remember me and probably thought I was somebody that she had passed along the way.  She told me that she was also running the Athens Marathon, but this one was for fun.  She had also run (at least) one 10k and half marathon since Chicago, so I felt like a serious slacker having only run one marathon in the last three weeks.  I couldn’t stop smiling all day thinking about this crazy encounter as I stared at the picture of me and Joanie locked safely inside my iPhone.            

The course elevation profile.

The Race 

I knew this course was going to be a bitch, and I was mentally prepared for it.  According to Wikipedia, it is one of the most difficult major marathon races in the world.  The Marathon Start Venue was the actual start of Pheidippides historic run. The course was pretty much a straight shot all the way into Athens from there.  It is marked with a faded, solid-blue line that snakes along the roads leading from Marathon to Athens.  This is actually a pretty cool thing, because you can simply run on the blue line all the way into Athens and be assured that you’re running pretty close to the 42.1 km distance as measured.  

What the course lacked in turns it made up for in hills, both up and down.  I knew this was coming, having downloaded the course elevation profile from the web months earlier.  I was actually less worried about the 10-12 miles of constant uphill in the profile compared to the 6-8 miles of unrelenting downhill, with 6 of those miles at the end.

I was mostly concerned about this in the week leading up to the race after an overzealous long run the Saturday before the race left my left IT band sore and me limping.  I rolled out my muscles and stretched with feverish dedication, but could not seem to loosen up this tightly-wound band of connective tissue.  Every run I did last week, though they were all slow and short, aggravated this new niggle.  

I am typically a nervous nelly when it comes to niggles, always conservatively fearing the worst and doing everything possible to keep the niggle from leading to full-blown injury.  This one left me especially worried.  It got better with rest, but flared up with running.  I knew exactly why it had happened, what I did wrong and couldn’t do a damned thing to make it heal faster.  Even the day before the race, when I ran a 20 minute shake out, I could feel the tightness around my knee.  I tossed and turned all night on the race’s eve worrying that I would not be able to finish due to either catastrophic body failure or not being able to tolerate the pain that was sure to set in at some point in the race.  

This was absolutely uncharted territory for me.  I typically shake my head with a “tisk, tisk” when I hear of other runners that run races when they clearly have an injury or at least the makings of one.  I have always prided myself in not being that runner.  I think I better understand the type of thing that might motivate a runner to do something so foolish.  An all-expenses paid trip to a world championship race commemorating the 2500 anniversary of the original Marathon being held in Athens, Greece could be one of those things.

I’m pretty sure that the US military running uniform stylist drove a Delorean to the 1980s to procure our racing outfits.  I expected to have something vaguely rockin‘ and comfortable to run in and was stunned to see the skin-tight Brooks shimmel top and ultra-long, matching 1980’s-style basketball shorts that went with it.  I am honestly most surprised that Brooks makes those shorts and labels them as running attire.  That’s why I believe Michael J. Fox had something to do with this outfit.  My female teammates were much smarter than me and wore alternate bottoms with their uniforms.  Had I looked at myself in a mirror or just felt the material of these shorts after they got wet with sweat prior to race day, I would have done the same.        

Decked out in my basketball uniform, I lined up at the start with my teammates along with runners from around the globe, readying ourselves for battle with each other and this ancient course.  My team did a little motivational huddle and, with the first gun for the elite athletes, we were off.  I ran with two of my teammates for the first few kilometers, and held a nice even 6:30 pace.  I had absolutely no race plan, no goal time, nothing.  My only goal for this race was to try to place as well as I could in the military competition but to do so without literally breaking.  I was running completely by feel.  

  

Grabbing some water and on my way to 1982 to shoot some hoops.
(Thanks to Pano K for the photo) 

Stray dogs paced us for these first few kilometers but quickly had race officials on their tails trying to chase them off the course.  We passed a few small towns and circled out into a lollipop-shaped, 2 km course add-on that extended the original 25-mile course into the modern 26.22.  As I entered the lollipop, I watched as the lead pack of men exited, and they were moving.  

I was concentrating on staying loose and breathing easy.  Mostly, I was trying not to think about my leg pain.  Within the first 4-5 km, one of my teammates who was running along side me asked me how my leg felt.  I was very irritated with this question, though I knew she was asking out of concern for me and for our team in case I wouldn’t be able to finish.  I shot back a  curt, “fine,” but also said ”I was trying not to think about it.”  She told me she would only ask me once.  I already had a nagging ache in my left knee and did not want to be reminded of it.  I needed distraction.  

Relief and distraction came as we started into the uphill section of the course a little after the 10 km mark.  The uphills actually relieved the pain in my knee.  I felt surprisingly strong on these hills and was quite happy to see that they were not the steep, steady uphill experience that I expected.  They would go up for 1-2 km and then become less steep or even flatten out for a short bit, then head up again.  I passed a lot of people on those uphills and was actually quite surprised when they ended just after the 30 km mark.  I had in my head that I needed to make it through 32 km before the downhill started.  

I would find out after the race that runners unanimously struggled with the uphills and thought they were brutal.  I was just the opposite.  I felt the best on the uphill portion of the race.  I’m pretty sure this was because I was mentally prepared for worse than they were, I ran them by feel and refused to look at my Garmin or my kilometer splits while climbing.  I also think that the massive amounts of uphill training Coach Nicole had me doing for the last 3 years paid off in spades on this course.  Thank you, Nicole, for making me a strong hill runner--something I once dreaded most of all in races.

I mostly focused on hitting one km marker at a time and getting fluids and gu in my body.  It was a warm day with a 19 degree C start, but I think it cooled a bit as we headed into Athens.  I was not at all worried about the heat after my experience in Chicago.  


For most of this race, I was in no-man’s land, rarely pacing with other runners.  I did find a somewhat offensive use for the European male runners on the course.  Early on in the race while briefly drafting off of a pack of sweaty, undeodorized Euro-runners, I discovered an alternative to smelling salts.  My eyes watered slightly as the powerful essence of runner BO entered my nasal passages.  It did perk me right up, while simultaneously making me throw up a little in my mouth.  I thought this strategy of drafting off of smelly men might come in handy (ala Constantina Tomescu-Dita in the late stages of the 2008 Olympic Marathon) as a sort of smelling salt effect.  I tucked that little brain child into the back pocket of my extra long and baggy shorts for use later on in the race.          

As soon as I summited the last hill and started the downhill, I knew I was in trouble.  My left knee and calf were absolutely screaming.  I mean, on fire.  I was in pain with every step until my leg finally became numb and rubbery.  I started to feel concerning tightness cramp my left calf.  I breathed into the tightness with hopes of averting a race-ending event.  By this point in the race, I knew this was the terrain I had to battle for another 6 miles, so I better just suck it the hell up and press on with pride.  The supportive, calamitous crowds along the course saved me in the last 10 km.  I absorbed their energy and kept going.  I needed the distraction of the little kids standing on the streets with their hands out waiting for someone to slap them.  I slapped every hand I passed.  I waved and pumped my fist as the crowd cheered me on to my own personal victory in Athens.

I could not believe the support for me in my USA-emblazoned uniform on this course.  In the Belgrade Marathon in 2009, my Team USA outfit was met with calls from the crowd that “USA (pronounced oo-sah) sucks” and “Bush sucks.”  In Greece, I was a superstar.  Chants of “U-S-A! U-S-A!”, “Bravo oo-sah or (yoo-sah)”, “Bravo Bella”, and “Bravo America” were yelled from almost every crowd lining the streets.  The crowds were unexpectedly big and loud in numerous locations along the course, increasing in volume and intensity as we entered the city of Athens.  I was so proud to represent my country running in this race as I heard these cheers over and over.

Around the 36-37 km mark, I looked ahead and saw another female runner.  This gave me something to focus on since I hadn’t seen another female runner in the last 25 km or so.  I was now starting to hammer the hills. I was running most of my km splits in the 6:20-6:30 range and I was gaining on this gal.  As I got closer to her, I noticed it was one of my teammates and my heart sank.  That was not the person I wanted to see coming back to me.  I was now really concerned since she is a super strong runner (2-time Olympic Trials Qualifier) and the strongest runner on our team.  It took me a couple of clicks to catch up to her, but I passed her quickly and told her that she looked good and strong.  I knew that, if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want someone to linger and dote on me.  It’s your own personal struggle at that point and you need to focus on staying in the game.

What was Brooks thinking with this combo?

I picked up the pace even more as the crowds cheered me along toward the finish.  I watched km markers 38 then 39 pass and knew that I was going to at least surpass Pheidippides‘ run once I passed the 40 km marker.  I was so focused on keeping my legs moving and not letting the rubber chicken feeling get the best of me.  I wanted to finish.  I wanted that finishers‘ medal.  I wanted to turn in a strong performance for the USA.  With 2 km to go, I knew I would finish, even if I was reduced to walking.  I also knew that, if I stopped running, I would not start up again.  I was afraid I might collapse at the finish line.  I kept pounding down the hills, around the corner, and then, finally, into the entrance of the Panathenaic Stadium, a structure first built in the 3rd century BC and most recently restored for the 1896 Olympic Games.  I entered the stadium and the crowd roared.  I had a wall of male runners between me and that finish line.  I kicked it into a gear that I had no idea I could find in the last 100m of a marathon and passed the guys standing still.  The crowd loved my sprint finish, and I truly felt like a hero crossing the line in 2:58:46.  I stopped running and braced for collapse.  It didn’t come.  I gave a little “thank you” to my legs as they walked me away from the finish line in one piece.  I had survived my Battle with The Marathon.

Majors Potter and Marty in the Panathenaic Stadium with a view of the Acropolis between our shoulders.

I was ushered off to the left immediately and sent into a cave.  It was literally this steep, marble encased tunnel that I imagined saw ancient athletes grace its walkway before and after ancient Athenian games.  I felt it was a cruel challenge for marathoners to have to climb following the race, but I was relieved to reach the top, have someone unlace my shoe to remove my timing chip and get my sweet finishers‘ medal.  Soon, the rest of my team joined me, all of them having run strong races and achieved excellent times.  We met up with our USA mens' team and found out they had both run under 2:30 on that course.  We enjoyed chattering on about how tough the course and race had been.  Joanie ended up finishing the race in 3:05 or there abouts.  She ran in to the finish with one of my teammates and raised her arm up in the air as they cruised along the track in the stadium to a roaring crowd.  This was a thrill for my teammate, Sue.

And the Gold Medal Goes To...

The 2010, gold-medal winning US Military Marathon Team.

The closing ceremonies for the 43rd Military Marathon Championship race were held on Monday evening back at our base station in Nea Makri.  For the third world championship marathon in a row, the American Women's Team took the gold medal.  This is an especially gratifying and moving achievement in that only the team awards are given out at the event and the winning team's national anthem is played.  We stood atop our podium (all three of us on a very small step) and saluted as the Star-Spangled Banner played.  I have to admit to a few tears rolling down my cheeks as I breathed in the fresh marine air and the significance of this moment.  While I had sacrificed my legs in this event to lead the team to victory, that moment made it all worthwhile.

In case you think that this competition was full of military slackers, the men's competition was even more fierce.  The winning team from Poland had a combined time of 6:48.  That's right, 6:48 for three team members, which equals a 2:16 average pace.  Their lead runner was in his 40s and ran a 2:15.  The next fastest military mens' team had a paltry 2:20 average.  Crazy fast.

The Day After...

I could hardly walk without excruciating pain.  The good news is that pretty much everyone else was in the same boat.  The bad news was that Monday was our "cultural day" and we would be walking, mostly limping around the city looking at the fantastic ruins in the middle of the city of Athens.  I am now on the beautiful, remote island of Santorini enjoying some run-free relaxation.  I have a few weeks of healing to do before I start back into my training.  In the mean time, I plan to fill my gut with good Greek food, drink lots of wine and get fat on life, enjoying the memories of this fantastic adventure.

Me and The Genius at the Acropolis.

Congratulations to all of the brave participants of the Athens Classic Marathon. Special thanks to the organizers of the Athens Marathon for a fantastic event and the Conseil International du Sport Militaire (CISM) and our Greek hosts for creating a truly extraordinary experience.    

2500 Years

2500 years ago, Pheidippides ran 25 miles from Marathon to Athens, Greece to announce the victory of the Athenians over the Persians.  History tells us that he promptly expired after delivering the news.  Humans enjoy commemorating major milestones through reenactment and hundreds of thousands run marathons each year around the world without even thinking about the original messenger's final act 2500 years ago. Of course, now we run an arbitrarily longer distance of 26.22 miles and only a handful of runners give up the ghost in the attempt.

There is a slightly less dramatic history behind my personal journey to follow the actual course of Pheidippides and it started in October 2009. I had just completed the Twin Cities Marathon and set a personal record by 5 minutes. I was thrilled with my accomplishment, and arguably deserved a break from training. However, the military championship marathon was being run in Washington DC in conjunction with the Marine Corps Marathon at the end of October and the winners would head to Athens, Greece in October 2010 to compete for the USA in an international military marathon competition. This running of THE marathon would be in celebration of the 2500 anniversary.

As soon as I heard about it, I knew I had to run that race and try to earn my spot on the team. As it turned out, I had one of the most amazing races of my life at the Marine Corps Marathon and was glad I ran it based on the day's experience alone. I came in first military female, second overall female, catching and battling the leader in the last few miles of the race. I also set a masters course record in the process. Best of all, I would be headed to Marathon, Greece in one year.

Fast forward one year and I am on a flight headed to Athens, Greece (actually, I'm sitting in a dorm room the night before the race, and finally able to connect to the Internet to post this!) I have done very little training in the three weeks since Chicago in preparation. Last week, I ran about 40 miles culminating with a 16 miler on Saturday. This week, I am running between 3-5 miles each day with a few strides thrown in on a couple of days. My hypothesis for this train-through plan is that my fitness will carry over regardless of of how little I actually run, but running too much could lead to injury. So, I'm being conservative.

My goal for this adventure is to enjoy the race while doing my best to place as high as possible in the competition. This will require a conservative approach. The marathon course looks brutal with about 10+ miles of straight uphill and the last 6 down. So, starting out conservatively is essential if I want to finish strong. I don't have a time goal other than I'd like to run under 3:00. I could run a lot faster than that if I have a good day. Last year's adventure at the Marine Corps Marathon proved that to me.

I'd also like to finish the race still standing and able to walk. I have a few days of vacation tacked on to the back end of this trip with The Genius that I'd like to be able to enjoy wandering around Athens and the ancient island of Thira.

The future
I have spent these last few weeks reflecting on my running future. I am in a great place right now having achieved my life's running goal. As I mentioned in my last post, it's also a little unnerving for a planner like me. That's not to say that I don't have new goals already brewing in my brain. But my running goals are only part of my running future. I have been thinking more about how I want to experience the sport of running. Regular readers of my blog probably picked up on a sense of unease that began to trickle into my happy little running world mostly in the last 3-4 months. It really bothered me. I was starting to dread workouts, wasn't enjoying races and this extra anxiety was having a negative impact on my life. I had a gut feeling, that a change would be good for me mentally and physically.

I have a fine, reliable posse of girlies who I am lucky to meet up with somewhat regularly for easy runs. Prior to joining this group (called the Early Girlies because we run weekdays at 5:15), I did all of my running alone. For the most part, I do all of my hard training alone. Many of the girlies are also coached by Nicole Hunt, but we never seem to be on the same program and we don't run the same paces even if we do the same workouts. I have been longing for some time now to find a group to do my hard training runs with, but just haven't been able to make it work.

I have had great luck training with my on-line coach, Nicole Hunt. She is the most professional, wisest, level-headed and nicest person I have never met. People often find it odd that I have worked with someone so closely for over three years, only talked on the phone with her once and never met her in person. It takes a lot of personal motivation and good communication between coach and athlete to make a cyber coaching relationship work, and I have had all of that.

The running experience I crave right now includes training with a group of women and men that are around my same level and doing similar workouts. I want the benefit of having a more traditional coaching relationship where my coach is able to watch me run and can help adjust my workouts when needed. I also think that I need a new focus for my running. I have been a serial marathoner for 6 years now and I think I would enjoy training for shorter distances, maybe even changing up my routine.

I am a member of one of the best women's racing teams in the Country, the Impala Racing Team. Most of my teammates live and train in the SF Bay area. I live 90 miles away in Sacramento and have not had the ability to train with them regularly, or at all actually since I joined the team back in 2008. Several of these fast women train with coach Tom McGlynn of Focus 'n Fly and they perform some of their workouts together.

After talking with Tom, other runners who know him and some of the athletes he trains, I decided that training with his group was a great opportunity. I have been told by some of his athletes to brace myself for a big change in my program, and I am excited to see what that change will be. It has come to my attention that I have a reputation for having an aggressive training program. This is funny to me, because I don't really see it that way. I see the workouts and total volume that others put in and think they are much more difficult. I really don't label myself as anything when it comes to running beyond being a masters runner and now an OTQ. I don't see myself as only responding to high mileage training, mainly because I've not tried the alternative. I would love to explore other ways of training. I honestly believe there are multiple ways to become a fast runner, the best being the one that keeps you injury free and maintains your love for the sport.

Over the next few months, I'll be making a concerted effort to get to SF most weeks to train with my new coach and his athletes. This also means that I'll be able to spend more time running and getting to know my teammates, something I've wanted to do since I joined the team.

Of course, I won't leap into this new program for a bit so I can recover from my two marathons. The good news is that Coach Tom doesn't have a problem with me continuing my running blog as long as I don't do stupid stuff and attribute it to his coaching. That's not my style. I'm a mea culpa kind of gal.

Exciting times ahead, and you are welcome to come along for the ride!