The kindness of runners

I continue to be amazed at how good I feel, mentally, in spite of the fact that I haven't run in over 10 days. When I first got the news about my broken foot, I was shocked and sad. If you follow me, you know that I was determined to keep moving and hit the road on my bike. Then the rains came...and the cold weather. On a cold, blustery day this week, I went biking anyways and turned my mood around. Mind over matter. That positive feeling has stayed with me since that ride, through a horrendously busy day at work yesterday, into today, a beautiful yet cool spring day. Perfect for a run, right? Actually, I'll be pedalling later, once it warms up a bit. It did snow yesterday! Oh, the horror!

Tomorrow, the day of my race, the weather forecast looks even better. One might even say perfect! But guess who won't be running? I will be there though! As a spectator. My first ever DNS. Ever. I don't know how many races I've actually run in my life...but it is a lot. My perfect attendance record--poof! I guess it's true--there is a first time for everything.

I'm actually mostly ok with not running the race. Last night, I saw pictures of the race shirt online (it is really cute, one I'll actually wear because yes, I could have run this thing) and felt a little tug inside. Later on, I received an email from Marcia, who blogs at Marcia's Healthy Slice. Earlier in the week she offered to drive me down to the race--I hope she was serious, because I took her up on that offer! Last night, she told me she picked up my packet and would be here at 515am to pick me up.

I've never met Marcia before, but I've been following her blog and we've corresponded back and forth for a while. I feel like I know her already. All I have to say is wow! What a nice thing she's done for me! It's not that I couldn't have driven myself down there. But the fact that we'll get to spend time together, really get to know each other, makes going to the race as a spectator that much easier for me, mentally. I mean, let's face it. Who would feel excited about hobbling up to the starting line at a race you were supposed to run--alone?! Yay...here I am...gimpy runner...I don't know that I would have gone.

Anyways, since her offer, I've felt really good and positive in spite of my injury. It is amazing what the kindness of one person can do for another who is having a rough time.

Others have been equally as kind. The support and love shown by fellow runner bloggers and Facebook followers has really lifted me up. I've always said that runners are good people. When I'm out for a run, and I see another runner, I almost always get a wave or "the nod". When I'm out for a bike ride and see other cyclers, not so much. Isn't that interesting?

In spite of the fact that I've been a runner for almost 25 years (my poor feet!), I've never been part of a running group. I never felt like I was a real "runner", believe it or not. I know the saying is that if you run, you are a runner. But I thought the people in those groups were hardcore, running races all the time. I was intimidated by the idea of joining a running group and meeting other runners. When I started following various bloggers and meeting some of them, I realized how silly my fears were. And kicked myself for not becoming part of the running community sooner. I love the virtual running community, tho, because I have connected with runners from all over the world. How cool is that?

So this is a big thank you--a virtual hug...to Marcia, to my local running "posse", to everyone who's reached out and lifted me up. Yes, I'm getting tired of the boot (already!) but I've learned a lot about my fellow runners in this short time I've been injured. You might not realize how small gestures mean a lot, how little words of encouragement can make a difference. We pick each other up when we're down. It's a big deal.

Group hug! And GO HAWKS!

Chasing away the blues

This morning I woke up in a dark mood. The sky was gray and overcast, and the temperature was 51 degrees. If I could run, it would be a perfect day for running. But because I have a broken foot, I can't run. Waaa! I've always been a fair weather biker. 51 degrees just seemed so...cold for cycling. My mood got darker and I began to feel sorry for myself, stewing about all the bad things that have happened this week...

Yesterday, I was stuck working with a moody medical assistant. Who was giving me attitude. As the day went on, I started to fear asking her to do anything! When I asked if I did anything to offend her, she told me she had "a lot on her mind". My regular medical assistant in on vacation in Disney World with her kids. So far she has posted 300 pictures on FB. They are having the trip of their lives. Good for her. Bad for me...

Monday night, at my son's 7 on 7 football game, I sat next to one of my good friends, who hasn't been so good to me for a while. We met through our sons when they were in kindergarden together. Now in 8th grade, there have been some rocky times for the boys and she's taking it out on me. Like I have any control over that...

Yesterday, my oldest son went to the dentist for a cleaning. Since he recently got his braces off, they did xrays and he has 6 cavities that need to be filled. Of course, it isn't his fault. So he tells me. But guess who gets to pay for that...

Ok, enough of the pity party. I knew I needed a fix and I needed it bad. I looked at the forecast for the next 3 days:

....and I knew it was now or never. Running was out, so it was time to get on the bike. I mulled over my wardrobe possibilities. What do cyclists wear in the cold weather? I thought back to last winter and pulled out my CW-X compression tights, figuring they'd keep my legs warm and maybe even help with the sore quads. I looked through my running tops and pulled out my lululemon purple scuba zip top that one of my students gave me last year for a thank you gift. Certainly over the top generous, every time I wear it, I think of her! And that made me smile. I put a long bra top on underneath that, pulled on some smartwool socks, switched out my dark lenses on my sunglasses for clear, and hopped on the bike. 

As I began to pedal, the cool breeze blew right through me. "I can't do this," I thought to myself. But as I smoothly moved forward down the road, I reminded myself of all those runs I did this past winter in the bitter cold, horrible weather. Lots of miles! I also knew that I would warm up as my heart rate increased. I headed towards the bike path.

The sky actually brightened up a little bit, and I could see a little circle of sun through the heavy cloud cover. The foliage along the bike path had really filled in since my last ride just 2 days ago, and I even noticed something green on my tires, probably from the pollen. The creek that runs along the path was really high from all the recent rains, and I wondered if it had overflown its banks. Some canadian geese were in the path walking their little ones, and one of them came after me, hissing and wagging its tongue at me. I've never had a goose come after me when I was running, for sure never while I was on my bike, and I screamed and pedaled a little faster. Yikes!

I started laughing to myself. I saw a few other bikers and some runners on the path, and everyone was super friendly, greeting me as I passed. Maybe it was my smiling face? The frogs were singing in the ponds as I rode by. Golfers were on the course. I saw a lot of birds, and some white cranes in one of the forest preserve ponds. 

The other thing I noticed is that my legs were not one bit tired. Was it the foam rolling and the yoga I did this week? Or was it my CW-X compression tights? Should I get some compression shorts? I've never really been a believer in compression gear, but now I began to consider the possibility that maybe compression really was helpful. I plowed up those hills like nothing (although my heart was beating pretty hard!). Hmmm.

I crossed that busy intersection where I've so many near death experiences without incident both coming and going. As I headed home, I realized that I turned my mood around. What if I didn't go for a ride? What if I just sat around, feeling sorry for myself? How easy that would have been. I'm so happy that I have something like running, like cycling, that I can fall back on to lift my mood. This is why I run!

As runners, we know the mental benefits of movement. When we become injured, it can really take a toll on our mental state. I've been here before, and I'll most likely be here again. But I know one thing: I have to keep moving. Whether it is on my bike or on my feet, exercise is my therapy. 

Just do it.

A good alternative #bestfoot

Today, for Mother's Day, instead of my usual long slow distance run, I went for a bike ride. Of course, you are all well aware that I'm not able to run for a couple of weeks due to the fracture in my left foot. But I did get the green light for cycling. Two years ago, when I developed a stress fracture in my right foot (do you detect a pattern here?), I hobbled over to the local bike shop, where they were having a tent sale, and bought myself this beauty:

The Trek Lexa. A GREAT entry level road bike. I just love it!

Yep, I even took it for a test ride in the boot. I brought it home and my husband wouldn't speak to me for about 24 hours. After all, his logic was that I had a perfectly good mom bike (a hybrid) in the garage. But I wanted something sleek and fast. After my first long bike ride, I knew I made a good decision. My oldest son also took it for a spin and proclaimed it as "awesome". Which meant more to my husband than my opinion. I rode that bike at least 3x/week for most of the summer, as I eased back into running. It was a lifesaver and almost as good as running. It was that good. My only complaints about the bike are the hard seat and that my hands fall asleep when I'm on a long ride.

Anyways, this morning, I headed out to the 30-ish mile route that I adopted 2 years ago. The beginning of my route takes me through some very bumpy roads and "fitness paths" in the very congested NW "burbs of Chicago, where I live. I'll just say that my road bike is not made for rough conditions, and after a while, the jarring really starts to take a toll! If I did a lot of my riding on these local streets, I'd buy a mountain bike with fat tires and shock absorbers. Seriously!

As I started out, I headed south towards the Arlington Park Racetrack. In the past, I actually found a "hidden" road that runs along the Metra tracks and the stables at the race track. The road itself has no name and you have to ride through the train station parking lot to get to it. It's a little creepy and secluded but I like riding by the stables because in the early morning, the workers are prepping the horses for the day's races. There's a practice track where they ride, too. It is pretty cool to watch! The price you pay for this hidden gem is the poor road conditions and so I have to pay close attention to where I'm going. There is usually a lot of weaving around potholes and broken pavement. Fortunately this year, the road is under construction so I'm expecting smooth sailing once it is complete! At the end of this road, which goes under a highway, there is one of those "super churches". It is at this point that the official bike path begins. The church has police directing traffic, and they always wave me through. Sadly, these churchgoers aren't very courteous drivers, and I've had a few near misses, even with the police waving me through. 

For the next few miles, I weaved through suburban streets on the path that runs along the road and cautiously crossed at the lights. Much more so than running, you really have to be alert and watch the cars. Most drivers do not stop on a red light to turn right. They do not move over to pass, essentially running you off the road. For this reason, I don't listen to music when I ride. I need to be alert at all times. I'm thinking about adding a rear view mirror to my cycling equipment. I don't care how nerdy I look. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder.

After about 5 miles, I came to the local community college. This is where the path gets really wide, smooth, and nice. I started to pick up cruising speed. I noticed three police cars surrounding a car on the busy street. I saw the police talking to the driver on the side of the road, and I wondered what the heck she did to merit a police chase? Oh, the possibilities! I crossed the very busy street at the light, nearly missed being hit by a car, and headed up the path into the forest preserve. On the path, I saw a guy riding a weird bike. He was wearing a helmet and cycling clothing, but as I passed him, it occurred to me that he was riding a unicycle. I laughed to myself because: a) it took me a minute to realize that he was riding a unicycle and: b) there was a guy was riding a unicycle on the bike path! Apparently it is a thing, because I googled it and found lots of images of serious cyclers riding unicycles. Who knew? Truly, you learn something every day! Guess I'm the weird one...

I passed a few more runners and cyclers and headed to my very favorite part of the path. This section isn't pretty or anything, as it runs right up against the busy 4 lane road, but it is a straight out fasssssst stretch! I love it because I feel like Lance Armstrong (without the performance enhancing drugs) as I sprint forward in high gear. I passed a couple on a tandem, recumbent bike. Guess I'm not the weird one. I said hello to them but they ignored me as I passed them. Whatever. 

I continued to push forward after heading down and up a fairly steep hill,  and came to another one of those "super churches", Willow Creek, which looks like a college campus. Being that it was Mother's Day, the line to turn left into the church drive stretched for about a half mile. I waited for the light, and saw my friend, Mike sitting in the bushes, manning the traffic controls. Mike is a retired cop, who has this side job of controlling traffic in and out of the church on Sundays. The first time I saw him, I didn't realize who it was until I passed him! That time I stopped to say hi on my way back. Now we look for each other when I ride on Sundays. I hadn't seem him for a while, since it was my first bike ride of the season, and I stopped for a hug and a hello. He asked about my family and filled me in on his. He told me how rude the drivers are to him! Flipping him off and honking at him. I can only imagine what they were thinking as they saw us chitchatting! Hah! I said goodbye and got back on my bike. He clicked the button and the light turned green for me. There's nothing better than that!

This is one of the prettiest parts of my route, a nature preserve. I have seen deer while riding through here. Today there were a ton of birds singing and flying through. At the end of this portion of the path, I stop to refuel and turn around. This was mile 13. I looped back, waved to Mike as he changed the light for me again and headed forward. I didn't head directly home, but took a 5 mile detour through another portion of the forest preserve. Most of this part is downhill, which was great because the wind started to pick up and I was riding into it. I passed quite a few bikers heading into the other direction. You know the ones--wearing their professional jerseys, riding their Cervelos or whatever $$$ bikes, refusing to acknowledge me--amateur! Whatever.

I rode back towards the community college, watched the baseball game that was going on there, and headed towards home. My quads were starting to talk to me, as were my "sitz bones". After about 20 miles, the padded bike shorts don't help all that much. I adjusted my position a few times. I pushed on and came back to the race track, which was now causing a huge traffic jam as all the Mother's Day celebrators were heading into the park. A few miles later, I was home. It wasn't fast, but it sure was enjoyable!

What do you like to do for an alternative activity? Have you ever been injured? How did you cope?

Runner down

If you've been following me for any amount of time, either here or on Facebook, you know that I've been having significant left foot pain for quite some time. About a month ago, I was out for a 6 mile training run and must have landed funny on that foot, and experienced excruciating pain. I had to stop running and hobble home. At that point, I thought maybe I broke my big toe. But after icing and resting, the pain subsided to a dull ache. I was worried about an upcoming race that week, and decided to consult the sports medicine doctor at work. We talked about my history with that big toe, that I knew there was a bone spur in the 1st MPJ and maybe some arthritis. He cautioned me about running the race and gave me a prescription for Voltaren topical gel (an NSAID, much like ibuprofen) to apply to the joint as needed for pain.

As the week went on, I was able to run again, with minimal discomfort. There was some throbbing after I ran, so I used the Voltaren gel. But what actually hurt was walking. I found that odd, but continued to plan for my upcoming race. To my happiness and amazement, the race was a success, I actually ran a PR, and had no toe pain. I figured the joint was inflamed but since I was running so well, nothing serious was going on, and continued to train and plan for my upcoming half marathon, scheduled for May 18.

This runner isn't experiencing any pain!

The sports med doc stopped by my office after the race and asked how it went. When I told him, he shook his head in disbelief. He offered to inject the joint with a steroid the week before my half, but told me he wanted to do an xray, just to make sure nothing else was going on in the foot. I scheduled my appointment. During that visit, he took a history, did an exam, and reviewed the xray with me. He saw the bone spur and a mild effusion in the joint. Using ultrasound, he injected a steroid into the joint and sent me home.

A few hours later, he called me. Feeling that there was something unusual about my xray, he had reviewed the xray with the radiologist and found a healing fracture on the corner of the 1st MPJ. They figured the fracture was about a month old, which makes sense, considering when I had that painful run. He was kicking himself for giving me the injection without reviewing the xray more closely. We talked for a while, and he said that the steroid might prolong the healing process. Maybe not, he said, since the fracture was already healing. But he got strict with me and told me that he really wanted me to avoid weight bearing exercise for 2-3 weeks, at which point he would do another xray.

While the news didn't surprise me, I felt like I was going to cry. I went to my closet and pulled out the boot, which I had used 2 years ago for my previous stress fracture. I called my husband, who was much more surprised than me.

The fracture

The next day at work, the sports med doc came to see me. He pulled up my xray, and showed me the fracture. The bone spur was also there, and he thinks that may have led to the fracture. I called it a stress fracture and he emphasized that it was not a stress fracture. "This is a fracture," he said. Much more serious than a stress fracture. He outlined activities I could participate in to maintain fitness. No weight bearing exercise. I could bike and swim. I can do weight lifting and yoga, as long as it doesn't put pressure on the joint. I asked about bone density and he doesn't think that is an issue. We also talked about how odd it was that I was able to run pain free but experienced significant pain while walking. Mechanics, I guess. That heel striking finally paid off! I told him he would probably have to prescribe Prozac for me, and he laughed.

Think I'll take a pass on these babies!

While I'm trying to keep a sense of humor, I'm pretty sad about all this. I wonder why this is happening. I've been running for almost 25 years. Could it be the wear and tear of all the pounding on my feet? When minimalist running and Vibram Five Fingers became the thing a few years ago, I looked the other way. Stuck with my super-cushy Asics Gel Nimbus, which I have worn for years. I have had major issues with my feet ever since I ran the Chicago Marathon 3 years ago. At this point I seriously doubt that I have a marathon in my future. But what about the halfs I have planned for this year? Obviously, the one next week is out. But I have Zooma in August and was planning on the Naperville half for November. Since they are both a good couple of months away and apart, that may be ok. My goal of 4 for this year may not be achievable.

I've never been one to sit back and accept my limitations. In fact, I've been much more apt to push them. For the next 3 weeks, I'll have plenty of time to think about all this.

Have you ever been sidelined by a serious injury? What did you do to maintain your sanity?

Happy

Finally, a sunny day! I decided to do my longish run this morning to take advantage of the great weather conditions. There was a small glitch though...

That's right, my friend the wind is back. It seems that we in the midwest cannot catch a break from Mother Nature...we get cold, rainy, and windy all week or warm, sunny, and windy today. Still, I'll take the sunshine any day. Actually, it is pretty windy here most of the year. I did a little research and found out that Chicago is the 2d windiest city in the US. The dubious honor of the most windy city is held by Boston. Once again, we are the "second city". By the way, Chicago earned the nickname "The Windy City" back in the 1800's, not because of our weather conditions, but because of our long-winded politicians. 

Anyways, after viewing the weather conditions and the direction of the wind, I headed to the fitness trail, which is west of me. It is an out and back trail, an 11 mile round trip total from my home. I figured I could run into the wind for the first half of the run and then head home with the wind at my back. I planned on 8 miles for today. 

My legs felt heavy as I headed out. This week at my crossfit training session, Becky had me do a ton of squats, lunges, and slam balls. My quads and adductors really got a workout, and I was fairly sore yesterday. Last night I did some foam rolling, but apparently not enough, because I was still feeling the effects of that workout this morning. Between my sore quads and the wind, those first 3 miles were tough. My splits of 9:10 reflect it! I actually thought about turning around and heading home, but decided to press on. The path gets prettier as I head on, and I wanted to keep going. Plus I knew the trip home would be a breeze (literally!).

At the 3 mile mark, I either cross a busy street or head under it via a tunnel. This tunnel really creeps me out. There is always a ton of graffiti on the walls, and I've encountered a few creepers either in it or around it. I don't know if it is because it is close to the library or what, but I usually don't run through it except on the weekends when there is a fair amount of traffic on the path. I picked up the pace as I headed through.

Once I pass through the tunnel, I run along the creek and through a fairly forested area. It's actually really pretty, and somewhat of an oasis in the middle of the overbuilt northwest suburbs of Chicago. The path crosses over the creek several times. When my kids were little, I'd take them on bike rides through here and riding over the bridges was a highlight for them. I thought about this as I crossed over the first bridge. As I exited the wooded area, I saw something they would have loved--I came to this structure: 

Clearly, somebody has been busy this spring! This little hut had small benches inside. I wondered who built it--probably some kids, right? Although the construction was pretty clever...I stopped to take the picture but then kept moving and thought about it for a while. I see a lot of weird stuff in the particular section of the path, and I think a lot of kids go there for mischief. My husband thought maybe the homeless people built it. Seems like a lot of work went into it. No one was around today, though.

I kept heading west, but the wind wasn't as much of a factor and my legs loosened up quite a bit. I decided go a little bit further, and turn around at the golf course, which would be about 9 miles total. I looked for water at this point but there was none! As I headed back, the wind pretty much pushed me down the path and it was so much more pleasant. There are quite a few ponds along the path, which makes for some nice scenery. There were a lot of geese (and their droppings) and ducks as well. 

I retraced my steps towards home. The wind blew me up a steep hill, which helped, and I headed back into the wooded section along the creek. I found a drinking fountain near a park. The song "Happy" was playing on my playlist and then I saw this: 

As I headed towards home, I stopped to take one more photo. It was where I had taken one of my selfies in January, on a very cold, blustery but sunny day.

What a difference 5 months makes. This was a good run. And I was happy.

Short stuff

I can't stop thinking about an unpleasant encounter I had yesterday in my clinic. I try really hard to put visits like this behind me, but this one really struck a chord with me. Yesterday, a 2 year old was on my schedule with "growth concerns". I found it odd, since I had just seen him and his 5 year old sibling a few weeks earlier for physicals. They were new patients to me and to my clinic, but were healthy children and the visits were uneventful. I made a plan with the mother to see the 2 year old in 6 months for another check up.

Prior to entering the exam room, I reviewed the growth chart. Everything looked normal, and the child was growing appropriately. When I entered the room, the mother explained to me that the child's father was concerned about his size. When the father entered the room, he basically took control of the visit.

Maurice Jones Drew, 5'7 former running back for the Jacksonville Jaguars; now with the Oakland Raiders

"He's small and I'm concerned about that", he said, talking about his 2 year old son. He went on to tell me that he knows how small boys have problems and he wanted a workup done to make sure there was nothing wrong with his son. After all, he pointed out to me, he himself was 6'1 and their mother was 5'7. He felt that it was not be possible for him to have a small son. He also told me that he wanted his boys to be athletes, and short men just aren't good athletes. He compared this boy to his older son, who is big for his age. He just didn't understand why his younger son wasn't growing like his older brother. Another concern was that his son is a picky eater. He wanted to know what he could do to maximize his son's growth; to make sure he reaches his "full potential". He wanted to know about growth hormone.

I don't know how I kept self control during this visit. I think part of me was so shocked that words like this would even come out of a person's mouth. And believe me, I hear it all, and it takes a lot to shock me. I looked at his adorable 2 year old son with the big blue eyes who was running around the room while we talked.

But what I did was put on my clinician hat. Reviewed the growth chart and showed him his son's linear progression along his percentile curve. Talked about normal eating habits of 2 year olds. Talked about differing growth patterns of siblings. But this dad was having none of that. So reluctantly, I ordered an xray to evaluate bone age and gave him a referral to an endocrinologist. I did all this, even though there would be no work up, no intervention in a 2 year old child. It is simply too early to predict what this child's growth would be. I told the dad this. He still wanted to proceed with the work up.

I thought a lot about this on my drive home. This visit troubled me so much. I try not to personalize encounters like this, but I couldn't help but think about my 2 sons. One, who is tall and lanky, the other who is short and still growing, but probably won't be taller than 5'8, if I could predict...who has the heart of an athlete and gives his all in every sport he plays. He has a great self esteem in spite of being smaller than most of his peers and is extremely well liked (a little too well liked, he needs to focus on his school work more than his social life!). But he's happy and well adjusted. This conversation with that father made my heart hurt for my son.

This is my son, #80, tackling, in a game last fall.

And I thought a lot about all the runners I see on the road when I run races. The last race I ran, the 10 miler, a woman who probably was 4'6--almost a foot shorter than me-- kept pace with me most of the race. When I ran Chicago, people who were twice my size were passing me! My husband always expresses amazement at all the runners who "don't look like runners" but sure can move. There's no denying size matters to a certain extent, but it isn't the only factor affecting athletic ability! Athletes come in all shapes and sizes.

And how many of us or our kids, are going to be good enough to play professional sports? What about participating in a sport for the camaraderie, the physical benefits, the confidence... taking pride in personal achievements? Being the best that we can be?

I took a leap and asked this dad what he would do if his son turned out to be small? I told him basically "you get what you get" when it comes to your genetic makeup. That it would be important to have self confidence and self esteem.

"Oh, of course", he said. And asked me where the endocrinologist's office was located.

The Hawk

I woke up early to a loud thud. My youngest son fell out of his bed. He told me he had a dream and rolled onto the floor. I laid awake for an hour after that, and finally got out of bed. I had a long run planned today, but it was a gray, wet morning, and combined with my lack of sleep, a long run didn't seem at all appealing to me. I knew I was going to have dig deep to find the motivation to do this one.

Today was a planned 12 miler. I have a half marathon coming up in 3 weeks, and I needed a long run. I wanted to run on the fitness path where I did a lot of my training over the winter. The entire path is 11 miles from my house and back. I figured I could add on an extra mile at the end, traversing through my neighborhood.

I sipped on my coffee and checked this morning's weather. The current conditions and forecast didn't help my lack of motivation.

It wasn't the temperature that scared me, it was that wind. 

Living near Chicago (even though I'm 15 miles from the lake) means that a lot of our weather is affected by the winds off Lake Michigan, which is due east from where I live. Weathermen often refer to that wind off the lake as the "hawk". Sun-Times columnist Mary Mitchell wrote an essay about the hawk earlier this spring. Wind traveling across the lake is cooled by the water temperature and blows cool--heck cold--pretty far west, depending on the strength of the wind. When the wind direction is in the east or the northeast, I can count on a pretty raw feel to the air. I have to plan my route accordingly. I suppose I could drive an hour west and find much, much warmer conditions. And yes, I'm a weather nerd. In case you were thinking that.

The fitness path I wanted to take is west of me, and the returning 6 miles would be directly into the wind. Knowing that I didn't want to run that hard on my way home, I changed my plans, and decided to run the other direction to the local retention pond, which is east, dealing with the wind mainly the first half of my run. I knew that the wind across the lake water would be tough to deal with too. So I picked what seemed to be the lesser of the two evils.

The first 2.5 miles to the park were as brutal as any I can remember in recent history. The wind, which was blowing right through me, would occasionally gust and I felt like I was being pushed backwards. Truly. It also started to lightly rain. Sure, why not? I felt like turning around and heading home. It would have been easy, and the wind would be at my back, pushing me home.

But no. Must run....

I got to the park and as I approached, tried to gauge the wind off the lake and decide which direction I wanted to run. With the wind blowing straight east across the water, it didn't seem to matter which way I ran, so I followed the posted rules and ran in the pedestrian lanes. The lake is a mile long, and so I plodded along with the wind at my face. I kept thinking that I had to do this 2 more times. I kept telling myself that the wind would be at my back very soon. Hang in there!

At the end of the north side of the lake, I rounded to the other side and voila! the wind was at my back. I fairly zipped along as my run felt effortless. I felt great! My legs felt light! I felt like a Kenyan! Ok, not that fast...but still! I passed some walkers bundled up like it was January, not late April. Of course they weren't moving very fast, probably not working up a sweat. 

I believe that I looked like the wicked witch of the west with the wind at my back--it was blowing all my hair forward. And there were whitecaps on this little lake!

I made one trip around, and continued on to my second lap. Back into the wind. Hating running at this point, I felt my legs slowing down but I kept pushing forward. As I rounded the end of the lake, I saw a rollerblader coming towards me. There is a small hill down and around the corner and I thought he was going to wipe out. Arms flailing, he righted himself and shuffled along. No helmet, I thought to myself. Not good. Now with the wind at my back again, I picked up speed and headed towards the park shelter, where I could get water and take a gel, with the hope that I might get a little boost.

About halfway down that side of the lake, my stomach began to rumble. Good thing I decided to run to the park today, because there are bathrooms. Looked like a pit stop was in order. I took care of business and took my gel. I decided to change directions for my final loop, rounding the lake in the opposite direction, hoping that maybe, just maybe the wind would be calmer on the the south side of the lake.

Nope. Grumble, mumble, grumble, I pushed ahead, into the wind. I approached the end of the lake again, and happily left the wind behind. As I ran my final lap towards the shelter, I came up behind the roller blader. He was still flailing and taking choppy strides. All I could think to myself was that he was going to hit the pavement and I was going to have to stop to help him. I pictured his cracked skull and blood on the path. My mind went wild with this scenario. Not at all up for that challenge, I picked up speed and shockingly, I passed him. So not only was he dangerous on wheels, he was slow too. I felt like a total stud, passing someone on wheels. When does that ever happen? I wanted to say something to him, tell him to get a helmet or some lessons or something, but I pushed ahead, relieved that he would no longer be my problem. 

I completed that lap, and crossed the street to another little park and headed towards home. The path in this park takes me over a creek and out to a very busy suburban arterial road. I had to run east briefly and that wind! the hawk! almost brought me to my knees. Thankfully the rest of my run was with the wind at my back. I ran on the sidewalk and came to a busy intersection. The traffic signal was green, but as I approached I kept praying: please turn red, please turn red. I wanted to stop and catch my breath. But noooooo, it was green and so I plodded through the intersection. The next light turned red and I took that opportunity to breathe and stretch out my hamstrings, which were starting to complain.

The other body part that began talking to me at this point, which was mile 10, was my toe. Yep. My toe has been behaving itself, occasionally reminding me that it is still angry, but hasn't sent any signals to me lately. When I started to feel it twinge, I adjusted my gait. It occurred to me at that point that leg fatigue certainly affects my stride, and that maybe I'm landing too hard on the toe. Once I had that awareness and made some adjustments, the toe quieted down again. 

I got to the park in my neighborhood. Mile 10.3. Decision time. Do I go home and call it a day at 11 miles? Or do I push on for the 12 I set out to do? I thought about my upcoming race. I knew I would do okay even without this long run. But I made a commitment to myself to do 12, and I'm a woman of my word. It would be a mental victory for me as well. So I circled around the park, and headed up the frontage road for one more mile. I ran past the church, where the masses are in Spanish and the parishioners pour in. I went to mass there once with the people I used to work with. The mass is exactly the same except in Spanish. So I knew what was going on. The funny thing was, the priest spoke to me in English when I went to receive communion. How did he know? 

I finally turned onto my street.

Wouldn't you know it, my Garmin read 11.95 when I got to my house? So I ran an extra block, got to 12, and told my OCD to hush. 

I was surprised at what I saw on my Garmin: 

That run was hard. But I'm happy with that finish time! My fastest split time was mile 8, when I passed the inept rollerblader. My slowest split time was mile 11, when my toe started talking to me. 

Glad I got it done. I hope I can bring it to my half. And I hope the hawk stays away.

Anyone do a long run today? How was it? Do you have to plan your running route according to the weather? How many weather apps do you have on your phone? 

Monday linkup #bestfoot