Baby, we were born to run

I'm fresh back from Derby House, our pre-season training camp. What a blast we had! Despite the fact that I got almost no sleep, it was an amazing week in the Northeast Kingdom. It's rare that I have the opportunity to focus solely on running, so it was a great training week for me. The other benefit, of course, was time to bond with my team. I left camp feeling lucky to have such a talented and hardworking group of girls. It helps that they are also a blast to be around. Seems cross country girls don't change much through the years...

Cross country played an enormous role in my coming of age. Like most sports teams, we spent a lot of time together. With daily practice, twice weekly meets, and team dinners, we spent almost all of our free time together. It made sense, then, that we were also each other's closest friends. As often happens with cross country, we also spent Winter doing nordic skiing and Spring doing track. We went to Crystal Ball and Prom with the boys team. When we got bored of them, we took boys from Harwood's XC team. It should be no surprise, then, that on one night of Derby House, we had to have our "crush party" to note who our crushes were for the coming season. Turns out, coaches are not exempt from sharing that information. I think the girls were disappointed, but they'll live...

I left camp so excited for the fall. Even though my own racing will be mostly on hold, I get to spend my afternoons, Friday evenings and Saturdays with a great group of runners who make me laugh, challenge me and remind me how I started running in the first place.

Day 1, the last morning I would be well rested

Did you run cross country or track in high school? What were your favorite memories? Funny stories?

Run On.
S

How do I pick a running shoe and other pressing questions

For being about the simplest activity you can do, starting or restarting a running routine can be overwhelming. Do you need a minimal shoe? Or perhaps a Vibram Five Finger. Why are the laces offset on Asics? Do I need wicking shirts, seams that don't chafe and socks with padding? Not to mention, you haven't run in months and you're not sure how to begin again. In a matter of minutes, the couch starts looking better and better.

Fear not, novice and partially retired runners, Caitlin from Wore Out Vermont and I are teaming up. We're even roping Joe from SkiRack into starring in a "how-to" video on picking the perfect running shoe. Read our three part series which starts in September and get back on the roads.

Run On.
S

Showcase Showdown

I usually leave my relationship musings on my Tumblr account, but since this one ties into running, it's landing here.

A friend and I were discussing relationships the other day and the inevitable compromises, when he quipped, "It's sort of like choosing the Showcase Showdown at the end of the Price is Right."  While I balked at first to any comparison drawn between Bob Barker and a relationship, I think he might be right. For those unfamiliar, the contestant must consider the showcase offered, and either bid or pass. If you bid, you are stuck with that showcase, no matter how fabulous the second one turns out to be. If you pass, you're stuck with the second showcase (assuming the other person doesn't do a better job of bidding...)

What's the benefit of choosing a showcase err significant other who runs? For non-runners, running often seems like a punishment and answering the first date question of "What do you like to do for fun?" with "running" or  "marathons" can be deadly. Assuming you make it past the first date, your new flame is likely to discover that you spend a lot of time running, that your toenails are really messed up and that you will never, ever sleep in on Sunday. Add to that the fact that you talk about running incessantly, are miserable during taper and have a food budget that almost matches that of your rent and you may not be the catch you think you are.

Dating a runner can be equally treacherous. Beat a guy one time in a race and the dynamic can be forever upset when you discover that he doesn't like being chicked, even by his girlfriend. What was once your individual quiet time becomes couple time and can be crowded with resentment of the intrusion. A boyfriend once ditched me on a run because we had such a big fight about him one-stepping me. And then there was the time I forgot to register us for Boston...

What do you think? Does it matter if your significant other runs? Is it reason enough to choose or pass on a showcase? Funny running-related relationship stories?

And remember, help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed and neutered.

Run On
~S

I'm Here, I'm Here

Lest you think I didn't pen "write blog entries" into my calendar and thus totally forgot, I didn't. It's just that between then and now, I had a funeral and 24 inches of snow to contend with. The upside is that my back and wrists are stronger than they've ever been in a marathon cycle, thanks to some excellent shoveling on Monday. I also got in some BAMF runs, running back and forth on the same stretch of road on Monday and Tuesday. I really hope this is our last storm.

My blog entry for today actually links to another blog I'm writing for, RunVermont's The RunDown. As a pacer for the 4:15 group, today is my big, official introduction for the Vermont City Marathon in May. Click on over there to read more about Howard (my pacing buddy) and me. While you're there, check out a story on my friend E, running her first marathon (I just tweeted at her that we were famous today!), stories from other area runners and great advice from area coaches and physical therapists. In short, you should bookmark The RunDown right next to the bookmark for this blog.

Run (and shovel) on.
~S

(A sad aside, thoughts and prayers go out to the family of Sally Meyerhoff, a former Duke runner who was incredibly talented and a likely Olympic contender. She was killed on her bike yesterday, a scary reminder to all of us of our vulnerability as pedestrians. Please, be careful with high snowbanks and unplowed sidewalks. Run, bike and walk defensively.)

Touche!

Blah Blah Blah Blah

Evidently, what other people hear when we talk about running. How many times have you had an iteration of this conversation?

Auld Lang Syne

Somehow, today is the last day of 2010.  Today is a day when everyone finds themselves a tad more introspective, filled with both regret and the anticipation of a fresh start.  Tomorrow morning, we make promises that perhaps we can't keep, but that for at least a few weeks, we believe we can achieve.

2010 was not my banner year.  I started off strongly, then found myself seriously derailed by compartment syndrome.  From the "easy" surgery to the extremely long recovery, 2010 was a wash of a running year, at least on paper.  However, I wouldn't completely erase the experience.  I learned a lot about patience, about why other people run and that time really does heal all wounds. I ran my first ultra-distance, joined a dear friend completing her first half marathon and raced my first half marathon back with good results. 

I have big goals for 2011.  I want a PR in Boston. I want to become confident in my running. To do this, I first need to get over the fact that it's cold, dark and slippery and get my butt out the door. I want to build back up to my regular mileage around 60 miles per week. I also need to continue to work on core strength and strength training. To improve my confidence, I am going to take advantage of almost every race I can find. Even if I use the race as a tempo run, every time I toe a start line, I learn how to manage my nerves and focus on a particular pace.

What are your goals for 2011?  How will you get there?  Are you being realistic or a bit on the overenthusiastic side?

Happy New Year
~S

Persistence

"Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan 'Press On' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race." (C.Coolidge)

This quote hangs in my parent's house.  In my lifetime, I've read it hundreds of times and trust me when I say that it has been woven into my moral fabric. I won't get into to the other ways in which this quote has altered the course of my life and why I think Coolidge was partially wrong (meritocracy is a myth, in short), but persistence frames my life as a runner.

As demonstrated last weekend, I do not want for persistence and determination; I slogged through 30 miles on a 1.25 mile loop course and wasn't bored to tears or resignation. Sometimes, however, I wonder if I lack the talent to reach the next level with running.  Perhaps a remnant of a high school career wrought with confidence issues, I consistently battle myself over whether or not this is worth it if I never run a 2:40 marathon. The kind part of my brain, the part that praised me for my tenacity and strength during last Saturday's run, tells me that I don't have a lot of racing experience and that in time, this will all click together.  The nasty, cruel part of my mind, however, tells me that it is because I don't work hard enough, because I don't want it enough and because I lack the talent for it. (Apparently I am not alone in this) And herein lies the problem.

I've enjoyed exceptional success in other parts of my life as a result of persistence. I graduated summa cum laude and was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa.  I've received awards and fellowships for my scholastic endeavors. I continue to have many opportunities to be a co-author in prominent print, despite my youth and lack of a PhD. So what is holding me back from similar success in running?

Last winter, I popped out of bed every morning before 5 a.m. to hammer out a hard workout before work. It should be noted that my job at the time was the job from hell and required me to drink copious glasses of wine post-work to manage, thus negating the option of running after work. Sure, I occasionally missed a workout, but in reviewing my running log from those months, I was a pretty consistent machine. Now, I can barely summon myself out of bed in the morning to get to work on time (new job, no wine needed), let alone do a 12 mile run beforehand. I have always taken my persistence for granted, so to suddenly have that hallmark of my personality wane perturbs me as much as questions about my talent.

Since surgery, I regretfully admit a sense of hopelessness. Despite making huge strides since April and especially this fall, I still wonder if I will ever bounce back.  I have one or two good runs a week now, but spend the remaining four feeling sluggish and out of shape. This beats the crap out of my motivation and I suspect keeps me anchored to my bed in the morning.  I make up most of my runs in the evening after work, but out of a sense of duty, not inspiration. I long for a day when the alarm rings and I don't snooze it for an hour and a half.
 

Thus, Coolidge's quote haunts me. What if I am a runner who works her butt off, without realizing that talent is the limiting factor in her success? What if my marathon PR never goes below 2:40 or 3 hours? As I'm out on the roads this weekend and as I ramp up for Boston, Silent Cal's words will echo through my head, but only time will tell if talent plus persistence will come to fruition for me.

Race Report: Run Your Can Off

Saturday morning was literally the perfect day to be a runner.  Although it was 30 degrees at the start, it quickly warmed up to the mid 40s with sun and clear skies. About 50 of us showed up, filled a truck with donated food and prepared to run anywhere from 1.25 to 35 miles.

From the time I woke up on Saturday, I was aware of how different the morning of an ultramarathon felt compared to a regular marathon.  I didn't have to worry about halting drinking so that I could use the porto-potty at the perfect time before the start; there was a porto-potty every 1.25 miles.  I didn't have to eat a huge bowl of oatmeal to carbo-load; I had fuel every 1.25 miles. I didn't have to pick the perfect layers; as some of the other runners can attest, I lost a layer of clothing every lap for the first few miles, leading me to ask if this was Run Your Clothes Off. Even the atmosphere was different.  Instead of thousands of anxious runners shoving each other in a corral, checking pace bands and planning strategy, we stood around drinking coffee and introducing ourselves. As Queen of race nerves, this was a welcome change.

The race went off around 9:15 and I started slowly as planned.  Really slowly.  I'm not kidding when I say that some of the kids who were running with us beat me through the first lap.  The first few laps were painless as my fingers and toes warmed up.  By about 5 miles in, I had stripped off my tights and was comfortably in shorts and a tee shirt.  For the first couple of hours, I ran in 4 lap (5 mile) chunks, stopping after every 4 to fuel, stretch and do a systems check. Per usual for me, I didn't feel warmed up until about 8 miles in and cruised through mile 15.  After the 12th lap, I started doing 3 lap chunks and definitely started to feel the distance.  After my 17th lap, I announced that I was only had 24 laps (30 miles) in me for the day. From that point on, I did two laps at a time and just tried to keep one foot in front of the other.

Miles 22 to 26 were tough.  I was tired, sore and disoriented from running a loop trail covered in leaves. By the time I reached 26, however, I was elated.  Every step was one longer than I'd ever run before and I was excited to see how far I could go.  I was also thrilled to note that although I was tired, my form wasn't falling apart.  I was moving slowly, but not compensating, so I plugged on.  On my 24th lap, Greg, the race organizer, kindly joined me to celebrate.  It was a good thing, as I was tired enough that bidding adieu to every tree, stump, log and squirrel seemed normal.  I finished, with minimal fanfare, but have never been more proud of myself.  The race medal, a crushed can, may become my favorite bling from any race.

After the race, I begrudgingly got myself into an ice bath, foam rolled and refueled.  My friends can attest that I even wore small heels on Saturday night (although they will also share that I was moving so slowly, it could barely be considered forward progress).  I am sore today, but much less so than I anticipated. Stairs are not my friend and although I feel like a rockstar, I look like a pirate. 

So what did this race mean to me?  First, it was part of my continued effort to be a more patient racer. I knew that if I wanted to survive, I needed to go out and stay slow.  In past races (please see Vegas 2009), going out too fast crushed my opportunity for a good race. Second, I verified that endurance remains a strong point for me.  When I am exhausted at mile 20 of Boston, I can think back to Saturday, and be grateful for only 6 miles left and confident that I have it in me.  Finally, I had fun. Running has always been my release valve, but my competitive drive sometimes overrides that and sucks the joy right out of it. During this recovery, I've done some fun events that I hope recalibrate me.

Spooky Time of Year

(When I set out to write my post for this week, I had grand plans of writing about my experience registering for Boston. Other ideas included talking about volunteering at a marathon last weekend and cherishing the connection with other runners.  As life goes, however, my run on Wednesday night changed my plans for this week’s entry. )

Typically bucolic Burlington has been disrupted by a violent event in the North End, where a woman was found dead in her home.  Details continue to emerge, but the event unsettled me. The extent to which was not clear until my run on Wednesday night.  

I was running along the bike path when a bike slowed behind me.  Normally, I wouldn’t have paid any mind.  On Wednesday, however, I spun around, spooked. It was a commuter, slowing to turn off the bike path onto his street.  He apologized and was clearly surprised to have upset me. I spent the rest of the run on edge, jumping at the rustling of leaves and mile markers.  As it got too dark to see, I needed my headlamp, plunging myself into the isolation of a single beam of light.  By the last two miles, I was whistling “Camptown Races” as loudly as I could, as though that would dissuade any attackers.  

On my nth rendition of the song, I got mad.  I’ve been running alone for fifteen years in places much more dangerous than Burlington.  I survived four years in Albany and ran through post-Katrina Biloxi.  Now, in my safe little haven, I’ve been rudely reminded of my vulnerability as a woman runner.  As someone constantly competing with the boys, it pisses me off that while they run on, I’m risking ankle sprains from jumping off a path when a branch brushes my arm.

In a few weeks, the salience of this will fade and I’ll be back to being a creature of the night, running before the rest of the world rouses. Until then, I’m begging friends to run with me (fruitless), considering a new dog (crazy) and re-scheduling my life to allow me to run in the daylight (impractical).

Why do you run?

Any semi-serious runner encounters this question on a regular basis.  Often, it's an out of shape co-worker or acquaintance who hears you talk about soreness or injury and helpfully informs you that "running isn't really that good for you."  There was even that infamous Glamour article a few years ago that told women that running would make their skin saggy.  I don't know about their research cohort, but my skin is a lot less saggy when I'm running than when I'm not.

As I ruminate over yesterday's run and the seeming return of my symptoms, I find myself asking "why do I run?"  (For those with a time constraint, the answer is that I actually love running. For those interested in a more detailed answer, read on.)

I started running competitively in 7th grade.  At the time, I was not particularly good at or interested in other sports.  My parents had a rule about us being home for dinner and most elementary sports practices happened right at 5:30.  I was always a strong runner, however, often winning the mile run that we occasionally did in gym class.  I did gymnastics a couple of times, rode horses and bikes and was generally an outdoors kid, but not in an organized sense.

I joined the cross country team in 7th grade for the social interaction and because everyone else joined a sport.  I wasn't particularly good, but I wasn't particularly bad either.  By high school, I was a solid runner and often ran in the 5th spot (which scores in XC) during my freshman year.  I didn't improve drastically over my high school career, only getting into the 21:00 minute range in the 5k.  It wasn't for lack of talent; I just ran at a time when my team and Vermont had a series of insanely talented runners.  My teammate Tara would go on to win NCAAs.  Erin Sullivan broke almost every Vermont record.  With limited resources and attention, I was fine at running and very strong at nordic skiing. Even at that time, I suspected that short distance was not my strength.  It took me almost all of a 5K to warm up, but once I was warm, running felt like something I could do forever.

I opted not to run in college.  Burnt out from a rather uninspiring high school career and sick of being told that I was too heavy for running (ridiculous, as I was a good 15 pounds lighter in high school than I am now), I went on to college as a nobody, athletically speaking.  I played field hockey freshman year, and was surprisingly good.  As an inner, my job was to run fast, seemingly forever.  Success.  When I transferred to Albany, however,  playing on a D1 team with only a year of experience wasn't an option.  I occasionally played pickup, but found myself coming back to running by the end of sophomore year.

It would take me almost 4 more years to build up the confidence to race again.  Will watched me run every day in graduate school and as a former runner himself, recognized that my speed was improving.  When we talked about racing, however, I would balk, afraid to put myself out there again. I came home one day to find amazing pink waffles on my pillow with a note that said, "I hope to be watching you race in these by the end of the summer."  It was enough to encourage me to sign up for a 4 mile race.  To my surprise, I did well, finishing 4th among women, and the first woman who wasn't a former Olympian.  I continued to race through that fall, winning a 5K in September, placing 7th in my first marathon in November and winning a race series.  I was back.  Or so I thought.

Running has meant different things to me throughout my life.  In elementary school, it was a source of pride for a kid who otherwise didn't feel particularly athletic.  In junior high and high school, it was a social experience.  I still hold an incredibly special place in my heart for "my" cross country girls. In college, it was a way to keep up with late night beer and pizza.  After Katrina, it was a piece of normalcy in an otherwise insane day.  In grad school, it was sanity and a social event and a major piece of my relationship. 

For those who aren't runners, it would be impossible for me to describe the depth of loss that I'm feeling today.  Of course I can find another sport.  I like biking and hiking, I even occasionally like ultimate frisbee and swimming.  But I love running.  Running is who I am. 

Sheeee's Back

My apologies for being absent over the past couple weeks (and missing some great picture milestones), but I've been busy...running!  At just about 8 weeks post-op (last week), I started doing some gradual running on the treadmill.  We started with 3 minute intervals with two minutes of rest (about a mile of running total) and worked up to yesterday, where I did 4 minute intervals with a minute rest for 2 whole miles of running. Wahooooo!

The only pain I'm having is in the first running interval, where it feels like the worst calf cramp known to man.  Last week, it happened much earlier.  Yesterday, it was right at 4 minutes when it started.  A simple stretch (dropping it off the edge of the treadmill) relieved it and by the end of the run, I dare say I felt warmed up!  The loss of fitness piece is far more disheartening.  I notice it less so with running, but was breathing hard on the elliptical. 

Still working on focusing on strength.  One of my goals as I begin to base-build again (I cannot believe I have to do this again, by the way) is to continue to focus on core and hip strength, as well as upper body strength to help with my arm swing (and therefore knee drive).  It is very hard, as miles rise, to fit in strength and flexibility.  However, I want to be one of the athletes who successfully returns from CECS surgery, not one who has to return to the OR.

By the end of the month, my PT team (whom I love) and I are hoping for 30 minutes non-stop of running.  By our estimate, slow building will have me back to full fitness in about 4 months.  All told, this is a 6 month break from competition.  I'm framing it as an extended recovery period, where all the little niggles and aches of any long-distance runner have a chance to truly heal.  In addition, this recovery period has forced me to slow down, to think about what running means to me.  Running has always been a part of my fitness plan, but it hasn't always been a positive force in my life.  Being forced to stop helps me to see just how much running does for me in terms of mood and opportunity for self-reflection, nevermind a great butt in jeans.

5 Weeks Post-Op

It's hard to believe that I am already 5 weeks post-op. 5 weeks ago, I thought I'd be close to running again.  While I'm closer than I was 3 weeks ago, it seems unlikely that I'll head out the door to jog next week.

That said, I am definitely starting to make progress.  PT is going well and my scars are starting to fade down.  I'm currently trying to decide whether to dress them up with a tattoo (after I get off Coumadin, of course).  Suggestions have included a full calf sleeve with a Halloween theme (thanks Pete), bows or a zipper up the back.  As you'll see below, getting the remainder of the glue off was a significant improvement.

I'm starting to run in the deep well a couple of days a week.  I did 15 minutes yesterday and felt good.  Water moving over the incisions was a little uncomfortable, but I managed.  Today, however, I am very tight in my hips, so will need to start to work on flexibility again. On days when I'm not in the pool, I'm up to 30 minutes on the bike.  I am also starting to do upper body weight training again.

Despite getting back into the swing of things, I am still extremely tired by the end of the work day.  By the time I make dinner, I'm ready to crawl into bed.  Even this morning, I skipped my morning bike ride for more sleep.  It's very similar, actually, to the way I often feel during peak mileage weeks, where I could sleep 12 hours a day and not be rested.  Luckily, the "Sarah crush" phenomenon that I also have during peak weeks is absent.

Below are my scars at 5 weeks:  Lateral on theTop, Medial on the Bottom

The Big Dig (4+2 weeks post op)

When I was younger, I recall a sign while driving through Boston that said "Rome wasn't built in a day," which referred to the Big Dig.  As anyone familiar with the city knows, the Big Dig meant one-ways switching directions overnight, abundant detours and progress that seemed to move backward.  For me, however, this phrase has become a new mantra, replacing "impossible is nothing" among others.  As I make progress, there are moments when I am incredibly frustrated by how long things take me, how weak I've become.  When I stop and think, however, I typically end up feeling pretty encouraged by where I am.  PT helps considerably; having someone help me sort through good versus bad pain and push me a little farther than I would go on my own gives me at least two days a week where I feel like I will be back on the roads in no time (relatively speaking).

I had an excellent PT session today.  In addition to the work we started on Tuesday, we added in some squats, deadlifts and planks.  This morning, I did a 10 minute walk and a short yoga routine. Tomorrow, Sunday and Monday, I will do 20 to 30 minutes on the bike.  On Tuesday, after my regular PT appointment, I will get in the pool to take my first running strides since surgery.  I know I am weeks (months?) away from running again, but for now, my increasing activity levels are helping to control my emotions and keep me from making stupid decisions that would further slow my recovery.

With a compression stocking, elevation and massage, my scars are starting to look much better.  I am still getting used to the shock of seeing them in the mirror, but they are far less grotesque than they were.  (Medial on the left, Lateral on the right)

A marathon is how long?

Whether it's the blood thinner or the cumulative effect of a few weeks of zero physical activity (seriously, how do people choose to be couch potatoes?), I am feeling seriously out of shape.  Hauling myself around by my arms takes a lot of effort, but it's not exactly tantamount to a jog, or even a brisk walk. I bought a gentle yoga DVD today, but only got as far as the deep breathing. Turns out, despite being able to stand, balancing and stretching are advanced standing skills.  I did manage to do 10 minutes on the stationary bike without discomfort. My left foot still hangs there, close to lifeless, but is happy to rotate while the right leg pushes.

I typically get annoyed at people who lack respect for the effort demanded by the marathon.  Whether you are a 5 hour or a 3 hour marathoner, it will take everything you have and then some. That frustration is growing daily, both as we approach the Vermont City Marathon here in Burlington and as I get farther from running shape.  From friends who have maxed out at 4 mile runs and consider themselves "ready enough" to the girls I overheard on campus this week, plotting how to cheat at the relay (don't get me started), it seems like everyone wants the easy way to the end of 26.2.  The truth is, there's no easy way to get there.  26 miles is a damn long run.  The .2 is just plain mean.

Right now, a fall marathon seems thousands of miles away.  A few pirate-worthy steps are a long way from the finish line...

1 Week Out

Last week at this time, I was in la-la land, somewhere between the OR and the PACU.  To be completely honest, this past week has been far more difficult than I was prepared for.  Some of that was that anesthesia really took a lot of out of me; the other major part was that I was unable to tolerate the pain meds, so had to experience recovery on tylenol and ice.

Today, however, I started to get back to "normal" life.  I went to work this morning and found out just how far my office is from the Peds Clinic on crutches.  Normally, it's a 5 minute walk.  This morning, it was a 25 minute adventure that left me breathless and soaked in sweat.  I am learning quickly that many doors are heavier than they look and that walking should not be taken for granted.  Luckily, once I got to the clinic, I put myself on an exam stool and scooted around.  My leg is achy but not overly painful.  The swelling in my foot is down as well.

This afternoon, my project is laundry, as I'm scheduled to travel to North Carolina in the morning.  Surviving this morning gives me some confidence for tomorrow.  I am going to have to swallow my pride and use the wheelchair service at the airport; there is no other way to tote my bag.  My dependency on others is perhaps the hardest part of this whole recovery.  I hate needing help or feeling like a burden.  Over the past week, I have had to ask for help with everything.  After the first day, I managed to use the bathroom without help, but even this morning Matt had to put my sneaker on for me. I cannot imagine having done this without the support of my parents, my sister or my boyfriend. My friend Katie who had ankle surgery last year, did much of her recovery alone and remarked last night that "you'll be amazed how resourceful you become."  Indeed, I just used my right crutch to push the laundry basket around so I could load the washer.

I am finally starting to see how I'm going to walk and run again.  Starting PT was encouraging, as was getting through this morning, sweat soaked as I was.  Over the next few days, I need to work on getting the swelling out of my ankle and beginning to weight bear on my left foot. 

Left Foot, Right Foot Breathe (Days 3 and 4)

Runners must be some of the worst post-op patients ever.  I've only been down since Wednesday, but I am completely stir crazy right now.  The good thing is that I'm too exhausted to even think about pushing it. A simple walk to the end of the driveway or trip to the bathroom takes all of my energy.  It's hard to believe that a week ago, two hour runs were nothing.  It's also hard to fathom that I will ever be back to that level of running again. I am hopeful, however, that starting PT on Tuesday will improve my mood.

Since I am only using Tylenol and ice right now to manage pain, pain remains an issue.  Once I get settled in a seated or prone position, the pain subsides, but changing between positions remains painful. I definitely underestimated how much pain would be involved; after all, I voluntarily run marathons.  With the possibility that I may have to do the right leg at some point, I will take a very different approach to surgery.  This time, I assumed that I would be able to go back to work tomorrow (Day 5) and to North Carolina for a conference on Thursday (Day 8).  Although the conference is still a possibility, I think it is very unlikely I will be able to go to work tomorrow.

My big accomplishments for the day:

• Dressed myself, almost in normal clothes.  
• Washed my hair, with the help of my sister.  
• Two "walks" to the end of my driveway (100 yards).