Wednesday, December 27, 2006

I have an appt w/ a sports med doc tomorrow; wish me luck

As a kid, I was a big fan of the paper chain advent calendar. Twenty-five alternating red and green strips linked by staples or Scotch tape: the thing couldn’t get smaller fast enough. I’d tear off days 1, 2, 3, and 10, impatient and convinced that the grand 2-5 would never arrive

Twenty years and a good deal of orthodontia later, I can’t be bothered with countdowns. This year if I had a paper chain, it would have started not with twenty-five links, but four, reason being that I’m just now taking a moment to consider the fast approaching holiday. Not so anticipatory.

When it comes to commercially exploited holidays, I’ve always been the biggest sucker I know, and I’ve been perfectly okay with this. But this year’s just been too busy, and I’ve been too distracted by life to devote a lunchbreak or two to surveying the season’s department store window displays, to sit down to a solid evening’s worth of my favorite Claymation classics (although I managed to carve out some time for Garfield, Charlie Brown, Smurfs, and Flinstones), to go on a cookie baking rampage (a single batch of the best ever, while success was met, does not a rampage make) or a Christmas concert, to decorate like mad (my dinky Home Depot tree, now near-dead, hardly qualifies), wrap gifts w/ my usual sense of deliberation... It just didn't happen.

It's pretty much okay w/ me, though. I mean, had I really wanted to make this stuff work, I could/would have. Just wasn't feeling it this year. And anyway, what really matters is that I get to be w/ my nearest & dearest this w/e. Who knows--maybe others' holiday cheer'll rub off on me a little.

Speaking of 'what really matters' and perspective and all that, I'll break the shitty news: Turns out I won't be running in that January marathon after all. Days after having come off one of my most memorable running weeks ever, a stretch punctuated by a whirlwind 12-miler that took me through London's Hyde Park, Kensington, Notting Hill, Paddington, and Mayfair neighborhoods, I was forced to stop in my tracks--and at this point there's no telling how long I'll remain stopped.

It was last Saturday that the shit went down. I'd just started in on a relaxed 10-miler when I felt a nervy pain in my groin. Thinking it was just a fluke--a chance cramp that'd soon pass, I figured I'd run through it. I continued on w/o any change in intensity until mile six or so, when the pain began progressively worsening to the point where I had to slow to a walk/stop. It was a bit freaky, given the fact that a) I was relatively unaccustomed to running-provoked hurts, and b) the pain didn't strike me as muscle-y, which seemed odd.

So it kept up in the hours that followed, and I eventually decided on a trip to the E.R. However, once reaching the hospital--and Pea--and realizing that it'd be a good four hours before I was seen by a doc, a doc who was unlikely to have much to offer me beyond 'take some Midol and see if it passes,' I changed my mind. Anyway, I really did think it was a flukey thing that would soon be on its way out.

Sadly--so sadly--not the case. It's now Thursday and the pain, while it ebbs and flows, is basically as pronounced as it was five days ago. As it can be a wee tricky to move between sitting and standing and vice-versa w/o grimacing, running is (far, so far) out of the question. I actually gave it the ol' college try two days ago, but I made it all of a mile before realizing the stupidity in continuing.

I'm just very sad about the whole deal. I was (and am, for about another week) at the height of my form, physically and mentally primed for the task. I haven't been this well-trained since mid-2003 w/ the Portland Marathon on the horizon. I really wanted this one, you know? I really wanted to re-qualify for Boston, really wanted the chance to redeem my poor 2004 showing there--and w/ January's race, I would have stood a damn good chance.

Of course, I could wake up tomorrow feeling good as new. Unlikely, but you never know. Were this to happen, I'd totally go through w/ the race, optimistic that a week of training lost this late in the game wouldn't be too much of a detriment. But what if it were to happen middle of next week? W/ that many lost days and a fast finish time unlikely, would I still want to bother? May sound defeatist, but considering how firm was my goal this time around, I don't know--I might not. I'd probably want to save the vacation days to put toward an out-of-state race later in the year, a race for which I'd be better prepared.

Speaking of logistics, there's no chance of recovering my registration fee--plus, as I went w/ Priceline for my flight, I doubt I can recover that cost, either. But I need to look into it.

About the nature of the pain itself, pardon if this is too much info, but here it is anyway: Anything gynecological has been ruled out, so that's obvs good news. The endless Web research I've conducted over the course of the week leads me to think that maybe, although god I hope this isn't it, a pelvic stress fracture could be to blame. Stress fractures aren't uncommon in distance runners, although only 1-2 percent of these occur in the pelvic region. I plan to get the necessary diagnostic tests in the next few days here.

But back to perspective/'what really matters': It's all good. Whatever this is, it'll heal, and I'll run again. I'm lucky that it's just now, after a decade of pretty solid running, that I'm confronting my first real injury. And again [repeat to self], so long as I listen to and nurture my body through this period, I will recover. Just. Need. Patience.

What else? There's the fact that this training hasn't been for naught [repeat to self many, many times]. My Sunday long runs were some of the best of my running career--I got to explore Bay Ridge several times over, Coney and Brighton Beach and beyond; there were all the bridge runs, including, at long last, the GW, which I always meant to blog about but just never got around to it; and of course, there was London. Awesome.

Finally, this break has reminded (shown?) me that my running is a really important part of who I am. Through it, I make discoveries: about myself and about the world outside of me. (How's that for cheesy?) I wouldn't have it any other way.

But for all the feel-good gushy stuff, I’m still feeling kinda sorry for myself, and life still feels kinda sucky.

Posted by princess kanomanom @ 8:13 AM