The Anatomy of Letting Go: Chapter 2 - In the Thick of It

I remember how positive (read: naive) I was the first month or so after I decided it was time to take this seriously.  I was off my marathon training plan for all of two or three weeks when I went to Ohio for a family reunion.  I was saying things like, "I might not be able to do the marathon, but I can always downgrade to the half and at least be able to help Kelly during part of it".  And in my head I'm thinking if I can get the first 13 miles with her and then jump in around the last 3 or so, I won't be letting her down too much! My family was so proud of me for keeping such a great outlook!

My new doctor (and fellow TIR teammate) was great.  He helped me understand what was going on in my legs and affirmed some of my self-diagnoses (which, I might add, were pretty stinkin' close).  After a couple weeks of "rest", he gave me a rehab routine to do on my own and encouraged me to start letting go of all my expectations.  This was the point in my recovery where I began to tell people that I had taken myself out of the marathon mentally.  It was too much pressure to think about what I'd be capable of doing for the race, if anything at all, so I was going forward like I wouldn't be there. 

Doesn't sound like denial.  Sounds like I had my head on straight and was very accepting of where I was, doesn't it?

Some other stories I would tell people sounded something like this:
You hear about runners getting injured and they get all bitter and feel like they've lost part of themselves and they are struggling to feel like a person and blah blah blah ... Me?  No way.  I don't feel like that.  I'm lucky because I can still be active in other ways without pain.  I can get on the elliptical or ride my bike or whatever and it's cool.  I'm lucky because my injury isn't THAT bad.

And every week I would put my running shoes back on and go out for test run.  Ask me how far I made it before the ever-so-familiar pains came back.  Go ahead.  The answer? Not very far at all.  At some point it occurred to me that my legs hurt all the time.  It didn't matter if I was working, walking to get the mail, swimming, reading.  They hurt all the time.  How did I not see this?  How was I able to ignore this for so long?  Let's think about this for a minute to really put it in perspective. 

If I subscribe to my own theory that this all started in November-ish of 2010, and I stopped running in August of 2011, that's 9 - count 'em - 9 months of pounding in the weakness.  Let's also not forget how we runners like to use the word "only".  I only ran 6 miles.  That's just over an hour for me.  An hour.  Those "only" miles add up over 9 months and can cause lots of damage.

I don't remember exactly when it hit, but I do remember trying one last time to see how my legs felt when I ran.  I'd been doing the rehab routine, and resting as much as I knew how but it wasn't enough.  The understanding that I wasn't going to be able to participate in the marathon AT ALL was very hard to swallow.  I'm guessing this was about 3 months into my recovery.  I'd said the words many times, but it turns out I didn't actually buy into it.  My "active recovery" was about to sprial into a "sit on the couch and get lazy" recovery.  My legs were doing so much better it seemed to me that I should be able to do things like yoga without my calf muscles going into spasm for hours.  For every forward step I made, it was an emotional jump backwards.  Doesn't make sense? Hmm.  Let me try it another way.  Each time I would wake up and feel great, I'd think FINALLY I'm on my way back up!  Then I'd get on the treadmill or even the bike - wasn't always a run - and when I was finished my legs would ache for days.  It was a sobering way to wrap my head around just how bad my condition really was. 

So I took all races off my calendar (which thankfully was only 2).  I dropped all expectations.  I was holding on to ideas and future race plans and I had to let them all go.  And let me tell you, this is so much harder than it may seem!!

And you know, looking back, I think the part that scares me the most on how I dealt with all that is how much it affected all areas of my life.  I'm a massage therapist and most of my regular clients are runners.  I had just started to break into some local markets and BAM! .. I stopped.  The last thing I wanted to do was hang out at a social run even if it was to connect with possible clients.  My job *and income* suffered big time.  Honestly, it hasn't been until recently that I'm finally starting to feel a connection to my clients again.  And really, don't things usually get worse before they get better?

Bringing this all to current, I wish I could say that I'm 100%  healed and am back in my running shoes, but that just isn't the case.  Some days I run - a mile, if I'm lucky - and some days I don't.  One thing I've found that I enjoy the most is yoga.  I joined Sunstone a few months ago and am getting back into a routine of activity.  But let's be real, it's hard.  I've also embraced my new cycling legs.  I don't hurt on a daily basis anymore.  In fact, most activity I do is invigorating, motivating, and brings back the hope that one of these days that single mile will turn into 2, and it'll keep going up from there.  When I get discouraged now, I focus on how much progress I've made in the past 5 months.  I have learned SO MUCH; there's not an aspect of my life that hasn't been affected by all this. So for now, I concentrate on cross training.  Running is still the thing I hold closest to me, and I miss it.  But it's not my focus. 

Oh, and don't worry, my story doesn't stop here .. the words have just started to come out :)