The musings of an injured trail runner

Not that I'm counting or anything, but it's been 15 days, 9 hours and 51 minutes since I've gone for a run. I haven't even had to run to the toilet. I've missed the Javelina Jundred (which just happened to be my Western States qualifier) and I'm not so sure I remember any of the names of my running buddies. Now that I've freed up time from washing stinky running gear every day, I'm considering running for office or trying out for American Ninja Warrior.

My shoes are clean. My car is void of any packets of GU, water bottles, or forgotten sweaty towels. Even my Strava summary for the week simply says, "Stop eating Halloween candy". Sigh. Even Smashrun knows that my ass is getting bigger by the day...

Don't feel sorry for me though. Feel sorry for my wife. She endures my parabolic mood swings. The groans and evil eyes I give all the other runners as they casually breeze past our house on Saturday mornings. If I had the patience to learn sign language, I would just throw a big "I HATE YOU" towards them and let karma have her day with me...

To say I've been coping is far from the truth. My days are filled with fleeting thoughts of going on a bike ride or making it to the gym early to get in some laps at the pool. Only to be foiled by warm pillow hugs and the absurd idea that somehow I'll fit it in later in the day when life gets 10x more complicated after the kids get home from school.

I'm encouraged that much of the swelling in my ankle has gone down and smaller lateral movements like dodging hallway Legos or doing the Risky Business slide into the kitchen has become a non-issue once more. I have another appointment with the specialist next week again and I'm expecting him to tell me that I should keep wearing the ankle brace or the boot. Which I probably won't. I'll ask him, "Can I run yet?" He'll say, "You need to go to physical therapy". I'll use my sign language again to reply with an "I HATE YOU" and hand over my 20% co-pay.

I'm pretty good at knowing my body and at least listening to the signs - albeit, sometimes a little too late . But I plan to give myself a few more weeks of rest and low-impact activities. Not like Prancercising or anything. God no. Swimming and cycling mostly...maybe some aqua-jogging if I get desperate for some variety.

Being patient is not one of my finer qualities - I admit that. But jacking up my ankle some more and putting future races at risk is the one thing keeping me in check right now. Besides, who else is going to stay home like a lump on a log and eat all this Halloween candy? :)

Be safe out there and happy trails...

Javelinas, cankles and my pride

I felt great coming off the Bear Chase 100k last month. A renewed sense of accomplishment, a PR and the prospect of really hitting my last 2-3 weeks of training hard in preparation for the the Javelina Jundred on November 1. When you spend a good portion of the year training, preparing and learning about racing better, the prospect of an injury is the last thing you want to have to face.

Two weeks ago, after (what I thought) was a casual run on the trails, my ankle became swollen and painful. We're talking, could-not-walk-kind-of-pain. I suppose that's what you get when you ignore those little pains for too long. Well of course I immediately went to a specialist to get an exam and explained my race/running situation. He promptly proceeded to tape me up in a soft cast, put me in a walking boot and ordered an MRI.

Over that next week, I was a mess. An emotional roller-coaster full of worry, confusion and angst. Slightly pissed at the timing but still trying to remain optimistic about heading this situation off before it got too bad (whatever that meant). What a sigh of relief when the MRI came back without any horrible results. Peroneal tendonitis. I could live with that. The boot and the soft cast came off and I was a free man to run my little heart out now. Well, with an ankle brace of course.

I have been testing my limits these last couple of days (along with the ankle brace) and while the more casual short runs on pavement have been fine, the longer trail runs have left me in a heap of mental goo...questioning my ability, sanity and tolerance for pain. Icing, heating and massage marginally helps but deep down, I know this injury is not just a flash-in-the-pan issue I can easily dismiss. It still hurts. Not to mention I have no ankle because it's disappeared under all the swelling (that's never good).

It's times like this that I hate being so f*cking analytical. I tend to over-think a bunch of sh*t in situations like this even when the answer is usually pretty clear. My wife always knows the answer before I do too. She says I'm stubborn. I say I'm thorough :) Half the time it's not really figuring out the right thing to do, it's actually being at peace with it that's the hardest part. It feels like quitting, but it's not...

Could I go out and start the race? Yes.
Do I want to be out with my trail-running peeps? Very much.
Would I finish (either the 100k or 100m)? Highly unlikely.
Could I have permanent damage after the race? Possibly.
Would I end up back in my boot after the race? Absolutely.

At the end of the day, I have to be concerned for my long-term health and wellness. I don't want to go back to wearing a boot. I also want to continue running for a long time.

Could I "man up" and run it anyway? I suppose. But that would be my pride talking.

And pride doesn't have to walk around in that f*cking boot. I do. So instead, I'll "wisen up" and sit this one out.

I'm pretty sure I'll have a date with JJ next year.

The fire is still alive

Post-MOG100. Even Hobbit feet look better than this.

A month has passed since epic sh*t went down at the Mogollon Monster 100 and my body is still reminding me that as an ultra-runner, the path to healing is never an easy one. For example:

1. The foot-pads on both feet are blistering and coming off. They are the size of Texas.
2. My ankle is still tender from where my shoes push and rub.
3. My lower back flares up after a run of any significant distance.
4. We are grieving the loss of one toenail.

Yet, despite all these issues, I went out to the Javelina Jundred race this weekend to do some pacing with old and new friends. I was ready to have some fun and log some miles despite all the issues and pain it might require.

In Ragnar-style, I ran 15 miles Saturday evening with Greg and was prepared to run 25 more early Sunday AM after getting 3-4 hours of sleep in my car. Not ideal but entirely possible.

Turns out, the additional miles were not necessary but I was already fired up from all the runners, finishers and their stories of tragedy and triumph. It seeps in and is nearly impossible not to get jacked up on the energy and idea of actually running the race yourself.

I know I committed to take some time off. My beer and crappy food intake over the last 3 weeks have been more than enough validation of that endeavor. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore that fire in the belly and wondering, is that indigestion or another 100-miler begging for my attention? Maybe some of both but I do know I'm going to need a race to train for soon.