It's the final countdown

Excuse me while I go wretch. I am freaking out. I'm afraid I have ruined my body to save my foot. Maybe "ruined" isn't the correct term, but the fact is, I feel out of shape. I missed 2 long runs and a couple of short runs, too. And after all that my foot was still sore during my 2.7 mile run last night. Still, I am going to be out there Sunday morning, and while the thought of that may cause a panic attack, it still beats the disappointment of not getting out there at all. That would probably be too much to bear.

Anyway, back to my 2.7 mile run. It felt harder than it should have, I think. And yes, I ran faster than I will be Sunday, but it definitely made me even more nervous than I already was (and I didn't think that was possible). Plus my foot started hurting, and worse than it did last week during my 4 mile run. Thankfully it doesn't hurt today, and it didn't hurt last night as bad as it didn't a couple of weeks ago.

I found a couple to run with last night, and I am going to try to stay with them Sunday. Although I have been training for 4 months, I still have essentially zero ability to pace myself. Their pace is something I can probably hang with. Plus, if I spend too much time by myself during runs, I start getting a little nutso, meaning the bad thoughts start rolling in.

Speaking of nutso, I MAY have looked up last year's results to see what the likelihood of me coming in last was. Luckily, I think I will be OK on that front, providing my foot just stops working or something. I say I don't care about my time, and I don't . . .mostly. I really just want to finish, I would just prefer to not come in last.

One thing that is easing my anxiety, at least slightly is that I am hitching a ride with Kyle's mom Sunday morning. She, stepFIL, SIL, and stepSIL are running the relay and they offered to pick me up. One less thing to worry about.

I will be glad when this is all over and I'm holding my finisher's medal in my hot little hand.

Ooh one thing I am very excited about is my running buddy (I still call her that even though she has gotten considerably faster than me recently) is going to do the Hyde Park Blast training group. Woo hoo! I am looking forward to it. I'm even hoping to get my mom out there.

The Agony of The Feet

Well, I can see my crossing of the finish line, super sweet finisher's medal, and 13.1 sticker slipping away. I think my right foot is saying "I don't want to do this half marathon." Unfortunately, I am at its mercy.

It all started 2 weeks ago, during a 10 mile run. Around mile 5, my right foot started hurting. I was able to finish the run, but it was hurting pretty darn bad when it was all said and done. It hurt to walk on it for a good 2 days after the run. Then the pain went away. I've had various aches and pains before, and they've all went away, so I just figured par for the course with this kind of mileage.

Then, last week we were supposed to run 11 miles. About a mile in my foot was killing me. I knew it was going to be a no-go, so I turned around and started hobbling back to my car (when it starts acting up, it hurts just about as much to walk as it does run). I promptly made an appointment with a primary care doctor. He took an x-ray, said it didn't look broken (and I really didn't think it was broken), told me it was a stress/overuse injury, and that he didn't think I'd be able to run the race. However, he also told me to feel free to get a podiatrist's opinion. Several people were singing the praises of this local running podiatrist, and I made an appointment for that Tuesday (this past Tuesday).

I met with the podiatrist, who told me he thinks I have a "cuboid sprain" from my 4th and 5th metatarsals hitting my cuboid bone when I run. He took out his sheet of foam, cut me out some pads, put them in my shoes, and I could instantly tell a difference. He told me to ice my foot every night for a half hour, and I could start trying to run again over the weekend. He felt optimistic I'd be able to do the race, so I felt optimistic as well.

Well, folks, the weekend is here. Yesterday I woke up to foot pain, so I didn't even try it. I iced my foot instead. This morning, my foot felt good to go, so I hit the pavement . . .and experienced basically the same thing as last weekend's attempted 11 miler. About a mile in, my foot started hurting, badly. So, that's why instead of running, I am sitting here with a bag of ice on my foot, watching my dream of running a half marathon slip away.

People keep telling me, yes there will be other races, and I suppose that's true. To be honest, though, I have no desire to train for another half marathon. I enjoy running, but I like it best within the 3-6 mile range. Beside the lack of desire, even though I knew running a half marathon wouldn't be easy, I think I underestimated the time commitment. I feel like running is was a full-time job right now. I was ready for this race to be over with, and have my life back. It was starting to feel tedious, and not fun anymore. Still, I never, ever wanted it to end like this. When I started on this journey nearly 4 months ago, I never expected not to be able to finish. To be sidelined with an injury, especially this close to the big show, is heartbreaking. I get physically ill when I think of everyone else running their race, getting their medal and sticker, feeling that sense of accomplishment. I would give just about anything to be out there with them.