Shubeez some Motivation

Six weeks post operation checkup.  I laid down on the examination table waiting for my surgeon to flex my leg in multiple directions.  The movement was painful, but I expected as much since my physical therapist checks my range of motion every Thursday morning.  When he moved my knee upwards and away from my hip I cringed.  "Wow, Jen.  Seriously.  You look amazing!  How is it possible that your range of motion is this good?  You are six weeks into a six month recovery, but I would swear you were a month further at least."  I starred at him struggling with the idea that my range of motion was that good.  When people twist the joint, it feels like they are tearing my joint away from the flesh.  Next he pushed against my knee at different angles and told me to resist the pressure.  "You have been working hard.  There is no doubt about that.  I don't need to ask you if you are following your physical therapy plan.  You are strong; unbelievably strong."

Then he pointed at my shoes and laughed.  My friend Monica gave me "Shubeez" for my laces almost a year ago.  I have one for each foot, 26.2 and Boston.  Running Boston has always been a goal and wearing these simple reminders on my laces have provided just enough motivation over the past year.  Insecure, I commented on his gesture, "Is that dumb?  I clearly haven't learned my lesson."

"Learned your lesson?  I hope you have learned your lesson.  You are working incredibly hard and I hope that you have found new motivation.  Don't count yourself short.  You have a long athletic road ahead of you.  There have been no setbacks.  The surgery went better than we could have expected, and you are healing like a champ.  There is absolutely no reason to think you can't run marathons again, and this time, you are going to Boston!"  My surgeon smiled.

"So it isn't overzealous that I have a race scheduled for this May?  I just haven't found the heart to ask for a refund yet."

"Nope.  You will be ready.  And this time you will be stronger than ever before.  I know that for a fact because it is only my elite athletes who heal this well."

I walked out of his office with a new sense of confidence.  My smile radiated throughout the building.  He was right.  I've earned a new level of motivation from this experience.  Each day is a new accomplishment based on the perseverance and patience of the day before.

Day 1, Smile.  Keep my sense of humor.  Learn to go potty without help.  Stay on passive motion machine and calf squeezing machine 24/7.

Week 1, Rest, stretch, and stay calm.  Continue using machines.

Week 2, Ride a stationary bike with no resistance everyday, slowly.

Week 3, Learn to stand up without help while spreading 50% of my weight on each leg.

Week 4, Loose the crutches, brace, and machines.  Get back in the pool twice a week for 20 minutes.  Start lifting free weights.

Week 5, Walk my kids to school at least one way everyday.  Start adding a little resistance to the stationary bike increasing the time from 15 minutes to 30. 

Week 6, Pump up the resistance on the bike, increase the time to 45 minutes, and add more strength exercises to my right leg.

Slowly, I am getting stronger.  I tire quickly but I embrace the work like never before.  As lactic acid builds in my quads and glutes, I don't pull back.  I breathe in deeply and I envision how desperately I miss running, how devastated I felt after being told I had the hip of an 80 year old woman and I may never be able to run again.  I listen to my body much closer, resting, icing, massaging when necessary.  I alter my exercise routine constantly to create more balanced muscles.  My scars aren't pretty but they are a wonderful reminder of who I am.  I went from being told I may never run again, especially distance events, to being told the best is yet to come.  Yes doctor, that new motivation is profound.  


~Roadburner

I am scared. But I am stubborn and lucky to be so loved.

My entire life has been turned on its head.  Typically I run every morning for at least an hour before my children awaken, but I haven't run in months.  The range of motion in my hip degrades weekly and while I have put off this surgery to the very last moment, the time has come.  It isn't like I haven't tried to talk myself out of it.  I got 3 surgical opinions.  I trained with two physical therapists.  I neglected all exercise except walking for 3 weeks, hoping my hip would miraculously regenerate a new labrum and cartilage.  Instead, the injury has gotten much worse.  At first it only hurt when I ran, now it hurts if I sit for more than 10 minutes, or stand still for more than 5.  Walking hurts, biking hurts.   This is necessary and I know that.  I can't live with this pain and I am one lucky girl that I have the opportunity to fix it.  My surgeon said I have a 50% hip.  He promises he can give me a 95% hip.

I met with my surgeon one last time for the preoperative discussions.  I quickly discerned the meaning of preoperative, "Fill out a crap load of paper work, sign your financial and physical life away, and sugar coat the operation one last time so I don't run at the alter." 

"Can you give me something for the morning of?  Just to take the edge off?"

"No.  We need you fully aware and able to sign your leg beforehand.  Once you do that, we will give you a nice dose of Valium."

"Wait, what?  Sign my what?"

"Yeah we will mark the incision sites and you need to sign your hip next to my marks to show it is the proper location."
 
Next they fitted me for my $1,900 brace (WHAT?), handed me 7 pain and anti-inflammatory prescriptions, and a pair of crutches.  We went over the expectations for the various cold water circulating machines, passive movement machines, and calf squeezing equipment that will be strapped to me 24-7 for two weeks.  The reality struck.  "When will I be normal again?  You know, walking without a limp and pain free?"

"I can guarantee you will be walking without a limp around 7 weeks from now.  You will be pain free in 3-4 months.  Jen, this is a long recovery, be patient."

As the doctor readied himself to leave, I laughed, "You know I am letting you cut me open, shave down my bones, put screws, pins, and someone else's cartilage in me, all so that I can eventually run again.  Is that just stupid?  Should I have my head checked?"

The doctor smiled, "Yeah, we can check that too if you'd like."


My husband and I went to dinner afterwards.  We needed time to clear our heads.  As we sat at the table in near silence I told Randall my biggest fear is letting go of control.  When they put you under, you put all of your trust into a total stranger.  My doctor is one of the best in the country, but he is still a stranger.  He doesn't know me.  He doesn't know my boys.  Afterwards I will be relying on so many people to get dinner on the table, and my kids to and from school because I can't drive or walk for a month.  I take pride in caring for my kids and always being available.  This won't be easy stepping back.

Ethan, my oldest son, wrote a story in school yesterday that his teacher wanted me to see.  They read a book about worries and how to make them go away, their task was to respond to the story with their own experiences.  He wrote about me.  He said, "My mom has a full plate.  I can tell she is scared and worried, but she won't tell me she is because she is strong like that.  But I am worried for her.  I don't want her to hurt or not be her anymore.  Running makes my mom happy.  I want her to be happy and run again, but I am worried."

This broke my heart.  And all I can say to my son is that he is right.  I am so strong and so damn stubborn that I will be fine.  I have amazing friends and family surrounding me.  I took them for granted as I had no idea how lucky I was to be loved so much.  I never knew how my loved ones would step up and offer their support and service.  We will be okay because of them. 


~Roadburner

Some goodbyes are just not that easy

I eat healthy.  I take care of my body.  I avoid medications when possible.  I don't drink too much, I have never done drugs or smoked.  I run and exercise religiously.  I plan to not only see my great-grand kids run around my back yard, but I plan to run around with them.  I am made of tenacity, grit, and perseverance.  But my body is wearing down at age 30.  Or as my surgeon eloquently stated today, my "body is a tire and all of the tread has prematurely worn away."

Last Wednesday I had an Arthrogram MRI.  I walked into the imaging office thinking it would be like any other MRI.  They give you an IV which makes you feel warm inside, like you peed your pants, and send you through this tube for a few minutes which buzzes, clicks, and sends you on your way.  Easy.  When the technician sat down very solemnly next to me I was at a loss of words.  "Do you know what you are having done today?"

"Well, I did.  Until you got that look on your face..."

"Yeah, this isn't a normal MRI.  We can't just inject you with dye.  We have to inject the dye into the joint space of the affected area.  In order to do that we will have to inject you with a series of pain relievers and saline solution to separate the hip joint before applying the dye.  Once you're bone and joint are appropriately numbed, we can inject the imaging solution which we will use to enhance the MRI pictures."

"Okay, so you use a lot of needles in my groin area and it won't be pleasant."

"Yeah."

I revisited my surgeon today to go over the results of the pictures.  Here are his findings, "...a slightly elevated alpha angle of 57 is calculated and may be accompanied by a mild caliber broad-based 'bump'.  The majority of the anterosuperior quadrant segment of the acetabular labrum displays pathology, particularly along its inferior 2/3, suggesting prominent chondrolabral separation which may include a component of dissolution of the labral substance as the gap between these surfaces measures 3.5mm and exhibits degenerative signal and mild morphologic distortion..."

Let me translate: "Her hip hurts because the ball part of the hip socket (the femur) should be shaped like a sphere.  Hers is shaped like an egg.  We need to shave the bone down to make it the right shape.  Next, the nice slippery pillow of cartilage called the labrum that cushions the ball and socket joint are disintegrated.  Gone.  That is leaving a gap between the ball and socket that is about as wide as my cell phone.  This bone on bone rubbing is leaving a lot of gross debris.  She has significant osteoarthritis in the joint which will only get worse."

Here's the surgery in a non-graphic nutshell.  They will put my leg in a traction device that will separate my joints manually so that they can get their tools in there.  (AKA a torture devise used during the Spanish Inquisition.) Then the doctor inserts a camera through an incision so he can see my insides.  From there, they will cut more holes and take a piece of my IT band from my thigh and insert that as my new padding between my joints.  They will screw that into place in multiple areas and clean up their mess to make it look all nice and tidy.  The procedure takes about one hour to perform and 6 months to heal.

I won't be able to bear any weight on my right leg or drive for at least a month.  Four to six weeks after the procedure, I will have to learn how to walk again.  Stairs present an entirely different obstacle. 

I asked the doctor if this will allow me to resume running at my previous training routine and he said that was very doubtful.  Chances are my other hip socket is a ticking time bomb and the more impact I apply to the joint, the faster it will fail.  He said in 6 days of training, I could run maybe 1-2 days a week after a full recovery.  The other days will be spent weight lifting, swimming, biking, and using clumsy machines like the elliptical.

What if I say, "Screw it?  I don't want them to cut away my IT band and re-purpose it."  Simply walking in the near future will become very difficult.  I already have pain just driving my car and walking .25-.5 miles.  My hip clicks, catches, locks, aches, and stabs constantly.  At 30 years old, do I retire from an active life and give into the osteoarthritis that has already taken residence throughout my right hip?

I originally thought the surgery would be my opportunity to run another marathon.  Sadly, that ship has sailed.  The damage is much worse than I anticipated and the recovery much harder.   I'm crushed.  I have unfinished business.  Before the Colfax Marathon #2, before my hip joint gave up, I was in the best shape of my life.  I was so strong and getting faster every day.  I was ready to try to qualify for Boston.  At this point I will be lucky if I can run a quality 10k again.  I've spent the last 10 weeks really analyzing my priorities.  I didn't know how much running contributed to my happiness and sanity until it was taken away.

When I fall asleep for my surgery I want a positive image in my head, a tangible goal.  My doctors have all warned me the recovery will be difficult.  I need something to hold onto to get me through this.  I thought that image would be qualifying for the Boston Marathon.  Now, I don't know what it is.  Maybe I can train for a triathlon next summer.  Hopefully I can go sledding with my boys this winter.  The down time, rest, and rebuilding of my muscles will offer me a lot of time to priortize.

I think the worst part, the scariest thing that I struggle with the most is how much this will affect my kids.  Running isn't most important.  Walking my boys to school everyday is.  



~Roadburner

It's going to be a long road...

Today it hit me how long of a road this recovery really might be.  Up until this point I've remained undeterred and optimistic, thinking I will get back to my previous mileage in the next few weeks.  But today, I started questioning what the point to all this really is.  When I showed my physical therapist, Kevin, my training schedule for the REVEL Rockies Marathon, August 17, he paused and said, "Let's give it two more weeks to see how you are healing.  After that we will bring up the mileage again but you have to demonstrate some real changes before I can suggest you start training as normal again."  This took me a moment to process.

He put together a two week schedule to help me ease back into training 6 days a week but I was shocked at what he wrote:

Sunday: 3 miles (yesterday. CHECK!)
Monday: 3 miles (CHECK!)
Tuesday: Swim 60 Minutes
Wednesday: 4 miles
Thursday: Rest/Stretch
Friday: 5 miles
Saturday: Swim 60 Minutes

The next week looks exactly the same but I am to run 4 miles on Tuesday instead of 3.  Sorry, Kevin, but 15 miles in one week is not 50+ miles a week.  I am starting to think this next race is a pipe dream.  Maybe I would heal better if I let it go and focused on shorter distances for the next few months.

On another note, I haven't swam freestyle in at least 10 years.  And the last time I did, I made it 5 laps before I was so out of breath I floundered around, gasped for air, and desperately longed for a life jacket. 

So I am changing my focus. 

1. I don't own an athletic one piece suitable for swimming laps.  I don't own any goggles.  And better yet, I need to flounder around a pool for 60 minutes tomorrow.  So, after my youngest son wakes from his nap, we are going shopping this afternoon.  
2. I called a local swim school to help me swim more efficiently.  This will be humiliating being the only adult in a pool with a bunch of summer swim camp kids, but it will be less embarrassing than being rescued by a lifeguard on my third lap.  I asked for a private lesson...
3. I put away the REVEL Rockies training plan I'd created weeks ago.  I can't keep looking at it.  The pressure to heal is not helping my mood and I can't rush this process.  My goal is to come back stronger, not band-aid the problem and return to this place in a couple months.
4. Continue my physical therapy sessions and my daily strength programs that Kevin designed specifically for my injury and long-term goals.  
5. Put my pride away.  Running 15 miles a week is still 15 miles a week and that is better than nothing.  Plus, I am being pushed into new opportunities, forced to expand my horizons.  This could be a valuable lesson that will better my character.  

Here are my hip stabilizing exercises in order (Do these at your own risk.  This routine was specifically designed for my injury.  Most of these exercises you can find online if you search running hip stability.  If you are injured, always seek the advice of a doctor first.):

• Dog Pee Squat - 30 reps every hour, every day.  Yes.  That's a lot.  Oh, by the way, I finally told Kevin what my name is for this stretch and he almost died laughing.  He couldn't look me in the eyes for at least 20 minutes today. 

 

•  One-Legged Bridge (30 per leg, 1xday)

 

These are harder than they look.

• Clam Shells with Resistance (30 per side, using a green band, 1xday)

 

 

•   Heal Squeezes (30 per side, 1xday)

 

 

• Monster Walks - Stand with band between ankles and step out at a diagonal with one foot.  Bring the other foot up to meet your front foot.  Continue alternating feet as you stay in a partial squat, working your way 30 feet out and back.  Do two sets, once a day.

 

 

•  One Legged Hip Rotators - Holding onto the green band stand on one leg.  Rotate your hip and chest to the outside, away from the band.  Keep your entire core straight.  (20 per side, 1xday)

You won't rotate much, but you will feel it in your glutes.

• Side Lunges - Stand with your knees slightly bent, core tight.  Step to the side and use the bent leg's strength to push back up to neutral.  (40 per leg, 1xday)

 

• Core Work - Before I started going to PT, I began a simple core workout.  My PT wants me to continue this daily on top of my running and swimming workouts.
• Middle crunches (neutral position) - 60 reps 1xday
• One legged crunches (I put one leg over the other knee and put the opposite elbow to my knee) - 60 reps per side 1xday
• 30 push-ups (2 sets of 15, 1xday)
• Superman holds.  (Lay on stomach and keeping core tight, lift both arms and legs off the ground.) Hold for 60 seconds, 3 reps, 1xday
• Plank holds - Hold for 60 seconds, 2 reps, 1xday
• Rolling out hips, legs, lower back, glutes with a foam roller 1-2xday

 
I am seeing progress, but I have a lot more work to do.  I've tried to stay very focused and upbeat but it is impossible to not get frustrated along the way.  Two miles away from home this morning, my eyes became red and my face hot in frustration and anger.  "Seriously, what is the point?"  After cursing myself out for a good 20 minutes, I decided the point is not to be a quitter.  I know that sounds really childish, but just because it gets hard and you get pushed entirely out of your comfort zone doesn't mean you earned the right to throw in the towel.  I am stupidly stubborn, and honestly that is enough.  I am going to learn how to swim.  I am going to continue to incorporate strength and stability work into my daily routine.  I am going to be grateful for the mileage, even 15 miles per week for a while.  When I get to the other side of this, 1 month, 2 months, or 6 months from now, I will be stronger.  I will be faster and more confident than I was a month ago when I was in the best shape of my life. 

Kevin reassured me that most people who experience an injury almost always come back stronger.  Not only do you fix what was broken in the first place, but you strengthen your entire body and your resolve.  He said, "Sometimes, an injury is the best thing that can happen to someone because it forces them to address those weakness, break free from routine, and start better habits from the ground up."  My resolve isn't broken, just a little pissed off, and I can work with that.


~Roadburner

Diane van Deren

Last night I had the privilege of hearing Diane van Deren, the ultra-marathon champion, speak in person.  It was only an hour long conversation, but her story was truly heroic.

Diane suffered an hour long seizure at only 16 months old due to an awful virus that left her body in a dangerously fevered state.  However, the rest of her childhood was healthy and seizure free.  For the next 20 years she found athletics came easily to her.  She became a professional tennis player directly out of high school after dabbling in multiple sports and finding national success in each.

While on the professional tennis tour she started having weird neurological feelings in her brain that she couldn't explain and no one understood.  By the time she was pregnant with her third child, she had a grand mal seizure that was unexplainable.

After multiple tests and finally an MRI, the professional athlete and mother of 3, found she had epilepsy, caused by the scaring on her brain, left by her first seizure at 16 months old.

For the next 10 years, Diane juggled motherhood, speaking engagements, and of course her professional tour.  But it became dangerous.  She couldn't drive, ski, cook, swim, or take a bath without the fear of having a seizure.  No medication alleviated the 3-4 grand mal seizures a week.  She felt helpless asking her 6 year old child to look after her in the bathtub and even taught her kids how to drive in case she seizured behind the wheel.

After a decade of fighting, she decided a radical brain surgery was her only choice.  After having a kiwi sized chunk of her brain removed, she was free of epilepsy, but it wasn't without consequence.  She struggles with the ability to read and understand complex directions and maps.  Diane becomes severely overloaded and exhausted by too much stimulation.  Her short term memory is questionable at best.  Most of all, she can't keep track of time.

Running freed her from the stresses of over-stimulation.  She zones out completely and finds a comfortable rhythm in her breathing and pace.  Arctic races ranging between 100-430 miles long in -60 weather gave her ironic peace.  She listened to the wind as waves over the frozen tundra and while everyone dropped out suffering injury, exhaustion, and frostbite, she prevailed.

Diane ran 1,000 miles across the state of North Carolina in 22 days, 5 hours and 3 minutes, to bring attention to the Mountains to Sea Trail.  She ran through 5 foot deep water, a tornado, ticks, a tropical storm, and endless blisters under her feet.  During the expedition she averaged 50 miles a day, and rested only for a few hours a time.

Finishing her 1,000 mile run across North Carolina

She is strong, fearless, motivated, dedicated, and resolved.  Sitting in her presence left me awe struck.  Her ability to persevere during mental, physical, and excruciating circumstances would leave anyone questioning their own strength.  What do I take away from this amazing woman's life story? 

I hope someday to run an ultra.  Not the awesome distances that she covers, more like a 50K.  A marathon still seems like a large chunk of land to cross in one day.  I also don't plan to run in sub zero temperatures, or through torrential rains.  I am not fearless nor as strong.

While Diane's achievements left me insecure about my small goals, she runs a marathon everyday for training, I took a lot away from her indomitable spirit.

First of all, Diane found the fountain of youth.  She just turned 54 years old and I didn't think her face looked older than 40.  Her body is rock solid and appeared to be as fit as a 30 year old.  Honestly, I expected her to look wrecked.  After running thousands of miles, she should look gaunt, lacking fingers or toes, wind burned on the cheeks, something.  But she looks amazing and most of all, she radiated happiness.  Through her journey she found peace.

While she prepares for a race or expedition, she looks only at the start and finish lines.  Her brain can't handle all the information in between.  Even when she is very close to the finish line, she doesn't think about it being over until she crosses.  Anything can happen, even at the end of the race, so when she feels she is almost done, she buckles down even harder, tightens up her stride and finishes strong. 

Finally, where Diane finds satisfaction is not in winning.  Of course that accomplishment feels good, but all of her stories were about the journey and who she met along the way.  How countless teams of people planned her routes, laid stones along the paths so she wouldn't get lost, navigated for her, helped her laugh through the suffering, partied at her bedside when she couldn't stand upright.  Her eyes radiated her connection with the people.  She said that's what it is all about.  Running brings people together.  It unifies their spirits in a common goal.

Diane's strategical team in North Carolina.

I wasn't inspired to run long distances beyond maybe 30 miles.  That looks painful, cold, and lonely.  I wasn't inspired to leave my family for months at a time to run the world.  I would miss my kids and my husband and talking to my parents and friends.  I need my community and I know my body was not built like Diane van Deren's.  She was made of a thread much stronger than mine.  But I do hope to continue to strive for that peace she emitted.  I want to find a purity in the sport that leaves me feeling accomplished and balanced as a person.  I hope to meet people along the way and immerse myself deeper in the running community.  Finally, I want to run throughout my life.  The gains I make now, should provide the stem of future goals.


Have you met one of your heroes?

What did you take away from their story?

How has the running community changed you?

~Roadburner