Road-Burned

On Sunday I will run the Colfax Marathon.  Today, I ran my final 2 miles before the race.  I wish I could say it was an exhilarating finish, but it wasn't.  I flew off a curb and into the middle of the road, flat on my face, like Wonder Woman, but not so graceful.  My stupid dog, Tucker, pulled me into the street as I flailed in the air and couldn't regain my balance or my dignity.  Sadly, it was a fitting end to my marathon training.

Hahaha!  I love to find humor in every situation.  Training for a marathon hasn't been my most graceful moment, but it has been a worthy journey. 

Everything went well up until April.  We conquered our 17 and 18 milers like they were nothing.  Don't get me wrong, I was clearly tired at the end, but I felt strong and unstoppable.  Those annoying little doubts that plagued my head weeks earlier, asking whether this was a realistic dream to cover 26.2 freaking miles, curbed themselves in beautiful silence.  If I could run 18 miles, avoid a nap, hide hundreds of Easter eggs throughout my neighborhood for a party later, and be up until 10 with great friends and feel fine, I had it in the bag!

After our 17 Miler

After 18 Miles

Then we moved.  My kids were sick one week before the move with the most horrific respiratory infections we've ever had.  Poor Ethan was on 6 breathing treatments a day, steroids, and antibiotics.  My husband and I were bound to get it, so we buckled down with lots of Emergen-C packets and probiotics.  We fell sick a few days before the move and were miserable on moving day.  The boys got a second round shortly after, Owen suffered from pneumonia, and I was graced with Pleurisy.

Sunrise views from the trails by our new house.

Pleurisy is the most painful lung condition I've ever had, and I was scheduled to run 20 miles that weekend.  A virus causes inflammation in your lungs, which then causes the lining within your lung to blister.  Breathing, coughing, sneezing, all hurt.  I am now three weeks in and I still feel a sharp pain in my right lung when I run or sneeze.  So my training partner, Monica, and I took a break for a week and I returned to running with our 20 miler only one week after being diagnosed.

At the start of our 20 Miler.

The first 8 miles, I felt great.  The route we chose was predominately downhill or flat as I knew my lungs couldn't tolerate large hills yet.  By mile 13, my stomach started to turn.  I had 3.5 miles left until a bathroom break and I buckled down to get that far.  As the Platte River restrooms came into view, I told Monica, I am seriously going to vomit!  But nothing came, so I drank some water, and lumbered forward.

Miles 16 to 20 were the most miserable miles I've run to date.  I had to stop almost every half mile to dry heave in the grass like a pathetic cat passing a hair ball.  It was humbling, humiliating, and I thought it would never end.  Poor Monica, stayed quietly by my side, stopping when I needed and offering help when she could.

Finally, we turned down a long dirt path and sitting at the end was the last road we needed to take before finding our car.  I looked down at my watch and it was 19.something miles and I thought even a tenth of a mile would be too much.  Monica ran ahead to make sure it was the proper street.  I stayed back to throw my head between my knees and the second my feet hit the grass, I finally threw up.  A poor kid rode his bike behind me and screamed, "AHHHHH, MOMMY! SHE IS SO SICK!"  I didn't mind.  My dignity was long gone.  I kept puking until I could finally stand up straight again.

After walking to the car, we found humor in the situation.  No, I am not puking here.  Just poking fun.

Returning upright, I glanced at my watch to see how much I had left to run.  It read, "20.0 miles."  Somehow my body knew I was officially done.  I was so sure I had at least a quarter mile left before I got sick.  But my watch said I was done and I wasn't in the position to question.  We walked back to the car and as we walked, I felt infinitely better.

Thankful our 20 Miles are done!  Monica looks happy.  I am sick and relieved! 

For the last week, I have been tapering and the lung pain is still bad at times, but I got the all clear from my doctor to race.  Today is the best run I've had in a month.  My lung didn't hurt, my legs felt fresh, and best of all, my stomach finally cleared all the anti-inflammatories that wreaked havoc on my 20 miler.  Feeling adventurous, Tucker and I saw a new entrance to the open space on the other side of the road.  I signaled him to turn, caught my foot on the curb, and as he continued leaping foward, I splayed out on the pavement.  My knees and elbows are road-burned, but I figure it is a fitting end.  I am the Roadburner after all!

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