So, when this whole foot injury thing first happened, I was upset, but I got over it fairly quickly. I pulled myself together and regrouped within a few days. Okay, I told myself. This might knock me down, but I will be able to rest for 4 weeks and still have 5 weeks to go until Ironman Lake Placid. It will be okay. I can do this.
Four weeks have now passed. I went for my first run this past Wednesday and while I could tell there was aerobic fatigue, I was definitely still capable. Even when I told myself to run slow and ease into it, I was still running 8:20s. There’s hope!
Sunday came my first long run. I was feeling pretty eager. In tough negotiations I had convinced my coach to give me permission to up my run from an hour to 1:30. Success! That will be 10 miles. If I can do 10 miles relatively easily, I can build back up to a decent marathon in 5 weeks. All this enthusiasm lasted until roughly mile 7 of the run, when I rolled my ankle off a curb, falling badly in the process. I instantly jumped back up and assessed. It’s okay. I can keep running. But something just wasn’t right. I stopped and pulled down my sock. Already it was the size of a golf ball and bruised. This cannot be happening is all I kept thinking. I was 3 miles from the car. With no phone. At a hobbles pace, that’s a lot of time to talk yourself into a dark place. And so, my second rest stage begins. Five weeks before IM Lake Placid and 4 weeks since I last ran.
You know those times when you’re so sad that all you can do is laugh at how ridiculous the situation is? That is where I am.
I looked at my training peaks today. It said to do an hour swim and a 45 min run, but only if my ankle felt okay. Well, clearly, the run wasn’t happening….but here’s the strange thing. For the first time, I felt like giving up entirely. Clearly, this race just wasn’t in the stars for me. So, what’s the point? Why would I waste my time doing something I’m not great at (swimming) when nothing else was going according to plan. Ryan and I were getting ready to go to the pool. The temperature was a little brisk for mid June. I didn’t want to get into the water. I sat there and decided that that was it. I was throwing in the towel. I had been defeated. I’ll do another race, another time, but I’m not breaking my ass anymore for this damned IMLP that clearly just isn’t in the stars for me. I sat on the pool deck, watching Ryan swim, got a little weepy and moped. It was a solid 10 minutes that I sat there. The feeling of giving up, though, was so foreign to me. I sat there and thought about how terrible it is that there are people that give up on a regular basis. How terrible it must be to live your life like that? To convince yourself that you’ve been defeated. Everyday. There are people that that is their norm. Not this girl. At least not today. In the pool I went.
Sure, it isn’t going to be my best race ever, but quitting is an insidious thing. Once you start it, it just gets easier and easier to allow yourself to do in the future. Whatever I have on the start line of IMLP will be the culmination of the best efforts I will have had in the next 5 weeks. Whatever my body allows me to do, I will do. It’s all I can ask of it.
….had to just share this. Thanks, Doria 🙂