Last week, my marathon plans were derailed for certain. My knee has been an issue for over a month. I rested and crept back into running. It was sore, but things were going ok. There was hope. Let's just say that. Last week Tuesday was my last scheduled long run before the taper leading up to Marathon Day. I had 20 miles scheduled and, with a bit of a sinking heart, decided to run long for as many miles as possible. Depending upon the total miles for that day and how I felt that evening, I'd make the final decision that I'd been hedging on about the marathon. My run started out really well. I noticed that my knee started to make its presence known on the odd-numbered miles, so I made a brief stop at every even-numbered mile to hydrate, stretch the IT band and walk a few steps. It was working right up until just past mile nine. Well, back up. The pain on the odd-numbered miles started to increase at mile seven, but I kept up my hopes that had been rising since I started running that morning.
By mile nine, I was giving it one last positively-minded push and just kept going. If I was going to have to quit the marathon, I would need to know for sure that the pain was going to make me feel justified in quitting after all these months, hours, miles, and sacrifices in training. There was something on the outside of my right knee that was definitely feeling different in a very bad way. It was the first time over the course of my iliotibial band pain hiccups and pitfalls that I started to think about the possibility of a lasting and severe injury. At the halfway point of mile eleven, I turned back and limped to the car. Luckily, I had just passed it less than a mile before stopping.
It's been a weird week. I've been sad and felt like a quitter. I've also had flashes of knowing that quitting is for the right reasons in this. I hate quitting. I hate wasting time. I hate thinking that I will never get to run my second marathon, because this pain almost derailed my first marathon last year. The difference last year was that the pain in my knee was totally manageable until the week before the race. Marathon Day was the first long run with soreness back then. It was really painful and difficult, but I was able to do it with very minimal walking. I wish I'd known then that it would maybe be my only marathon, because I would have savored and celebrated a little more. I might have even attached one of those 26.2 magnets to my bumper.
So, that's that. I'm seeing the orthopedic surgeon at the end of this week and trying to get out of this non-cardio funk that not running puts me into (and this, I swear, is what has kept me running). I'm getting back into yoga and, after just doing strength exercises at home, am heading back to the gym tomorrow morning to try the elliptical trainer and to lift weights. The injury thing will or won't take care of itself. I might have to adjust my life a little bit and my self-image, but it's not fatal.
I'll survive. I'll also make damn sure that I grow in the process, so that all that running and prepping wasn't in vain.
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