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You Gotta Listen!

/ Sloan / Leave a comment

I feel like life is a series of us asking ourselves a long list of questions. Questions that we never really get definitive answers to. These questions, when you’re a kid, seem like the biggest issues that you’ll ever have to face. Like, who do you invite to your party? Or, chocolate or vanilla? Even questions like where to sit in math class—you don’t want to sit in the back and be associated with those kids, but you also don’t want to sit right up from and be a teacher’s pet, ewww.

As we grow up questions are a bit more important, ones like where to go to college, or do you drive after that last beer?… all of these decisions impact our lives in one way or another. Same as they did when we were younger, we had to ask ourselves these questions and ultimately the final decision came down to what we wanted, what your heart and head thought was right for you not anyone else.

 

So, where am I going with this!? What on earth could this possibly have to do with running? Per my last post, you must know that my bum hurts, bad. My (amazing) roommate (who is basically a Doctor) helped me figure out what is probably wrong, however—I haven’t been able to run for two solid weeks. My relationship with the elliptical is bordering on inappropriate. Not only am I sick of starring at the TV while I crank away on the machine—I’m mentally tired and missing my daily run, daily does of vitamin D and daily sightings on the road.

I’ve been asking myself a series of questions: does it realllly hurt that bad? (Yes.) Can I cross-train hard enough to finish this race that I planned on for April? (Probably.) Do I want to hinder my recovery just to do the race? (Hinder my ability to run? HELLZ NO!!!)

I want to recover as soon as possible. I want to enjoy this summer on my feet, in the trails and with my running group. I emailed my training buddy the other day telling him my qualms and booty pains, he confessed his running hasn’t been going well either. He’s older, a seasoned runner, an Ironman veteran, and knows that there are other races, other events to train for. He’s decided to listen to his body and pull the plug on the race.

In turn, I’m pulling the plug too. I’m being forced to listen to my body, (something I know I’m not good at, I tend to get stubborn and ignore key factors, my heart wins, my head is shut out and I don’t give my body the time of day to speak up)

I’m ready to train so that I can train for a race again. No more questions, just an answer. I have to admit that I can’t do this race and that’s okay. I’m going to sit in the middle of the classroom, I’m going to swirl chocolate and vanilla because they’re both so dang good, and I’m not driving after that last beer—I don’t want to risk it! One race isn’t worth my running “career”.

What a BUMmer

/ Sloan / 1 Comment

I haven’t been able to run for nearly a week. I am feverishly cross training in hopes of not losing the strength I’ve gained the past months of training. I’m stretching. I’m foam-rolling. I’m using my stick religiously. Wednesday evening I went to Nic Ebright, a sports massage therapist, so that he could massage my butt in hopes of getting the extra ooph I need  to get back on the pavement, (or trails) running. Nic told me to write about this… this… I can’t say it…

Writing about it does not admit this is an injury just yet. I’m still moving. I’m doing everything I can to make sure this feeling in my glute doesn’t get worse. I’m slowing down and listening to my body, and Nic.

Sorry if you’ve seen me and I’ve been cranky, I need a run.

Excuse me while I go stretch…it’s a bummer, but I gotta stretch before I hit the road for work!

What’s your threshold?

/ Sloan / 3 Comments

I’ve been meaning to write a post all week, however, work must take priority over this silly little blog and I’ve lacked the time and the energy to write something worth reading. Though I did think about it all week, about what I was going to write about. First, I thought I’d write about the 74 degree semi-long-run I had at a reservoir on my way out of Delaware. It was a run that was so unseasonably hot and more or less a miserable hour and half of my life. Then I was going to write about my longest run ever to date (17 miles, 50 degrees 40 mile per hour winds that nearly blew me and my running group into the Inner Harbor last Saturday.)

However, I’m going to write about my run today. It was a long run that ended up being about 16.5 miles, this 16.5 miles happened at 7:30 am this morning after a 4pm 12 mile run yesterday afternoon/evening. Tired legs gearing up to run a long long way.  This run started out with my group, The Pacemakers, and was a bowtie loopty loop that allowed me to not carry water because I ended up at my car every 4-6 miles and I was able to hydrate, genius because I’ve yet to buy a hydration pack and ended my 17 miles last week very salty and very sick.

The first ten miles were great, we were all chatty, talking about the beautiful morning we finally had, the sun was shining, I was able to wear shorts, (it was 34 when we started but warmed up to about 41…perfect!) The first two lets of our journey felt great. When the third leg began I, among other runners, was feeling pretty good. (I was surprised, I thought my legs would be dragging more, I thought my feet would be hurting–)

 

Fast-forward two miles. My legs began to drag, my feet throbbed, I went silent.

http://vimeo.com/19529550

 

I could hear Bob’s footsteps behind me. This sound kept my feet moving, kept me from looking behind, kept me from walking, all the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run better run… someone told last night to sing Foster The People to keep me going. ALL THE OTHER KIDS WITH THE PUMPED UP KICKS BETTER RUN BETTER RUN… I was shouting in my head, I had to keep going, I couldn’t stop

 

—the silent miles had begun.

 

The Silent Miles: I think all runners hit a point. Not the wall but A Point in a training run where all falls silent. We get so absorbed in our head, our thoughts, our own personal demons and motivations that we go silent. My personal threshold has gotten longer, I used to only be able to go 10 or so miles before I fell silent. I stop talking, I stare straight ahead and concentrate, hard. At this point in my training I’m not really sure what my threshold is, I hit it a bit earlier this week because of the combination of last night’s 12 miles and the run this morning. Fatigued began I even began.

But today’s silence was okay. I’m okay with silence; I still had Bob’s feet and breathing behind me, the road in front of me, and the knowledge that I had a big cup of coffee at the end of the run. I finished 15 miles and ran another loop, on my own, to get in another mile and a half. This is where my personal motivation began to lack, this is where I fell apart and walked a bit. But this is the point that I remembered to listen to my body and remind myself that in the past 15 hours I had put in nearly 28 miles.


My body is broken down, (but not broken) and will rest and recover tonight and tomorrow. The Silent Miles are what make us stronger, they’re what make us realize what we are truly capable of.