As I always like to say, I am not put together well. My knees buckle in and face each other when my feet are together, causing a windmill looking stride when I run. This is a nicer way of saying that I look like the scarecrow from the Wizard Of Oz while running, which my high school cross country coach actually said. Despite my awkward stride, I was naturally fast. I could place fairly easily in our team's 5k races without much effort, but was endlessly injured. At the age of 14 during a meet in Boston, I fractured the growth plate in my hip - without falling. Four years later, after experiencing constant knee pain, an MRI revealed a tear in my left meniscus, even though the pain was in my right. After the left was repaired, they humored my complaints about the right side by agreeing to go in and "clean it up", where they found another meniscus tear so severe it had twisted itself around several times. All I remember from that experience was waking up from the anesthesia and telling the surgeon "told ya so". And, finally, a non-running related injury (aka idiotic teenage trampoline shenanigans) totally wrecked my ankle, wiping out what would have been my senior year on the cross country team. So, that was my (lack of) running career up to that point. And to be honest, I didn't care much. I didn't have any true running goals at the time, and I wasn't a reliable team member since I could practically sneeze and injure something else, taking any responsibility or pressure off the table.
Motherhood gave me a reason to run again: lose baby weight, gain freedom - yes please! This was all good and fun until I decided to train for my first half marathon where the shitty body mechanics decided to strike again. Enter metatarsal and Achilles tendinitis, and I had to drop out. This was a particular bummer because my dad had also trained for this race, and it would be his last long distance race in his running career. The following year, I did make it to that 13.1 mile finish line injury free. So what does this smarty do? Decide doubling that mileage would be a fantastic idea. Marathon training, here I come! And what do you know? I did it. I did it 4 times, and decided to add a few more miles to my running resume and toughed out a 50 mile trail race too.
Now, I may have made it to each of those races, performed well, and thanked my lucky stars for that running blood coursing through my veins...but my body constantly reminded me that I was not built for this nonsense. In order for me to train to this capacity, it takes so much work. It's exhausting, frustrating, and yet exhilarating and rewarding all at once. I limp around for hours after long runs, submerge myself in ice baths, endure painful deep tissue massage treatments, and worry about every little ache or pain. On the other hand, I feel a world of accomplishment, thankful for my wobbly body's abilities, and enjoy overcoming the challenges poor mechanics throws my way. But, man, this being-an-athlete stuff takes a lot of work, especially when you're as injury prone as I am.
My daughters have a pretty rough understanding of "no pain no gain" when it comes to running recovery as they watch me foam roll and perform cupping therapy with a harsh grimace on my face and watering eyes. They are my biggest supporters. Every day when I come back from a long run, they love to guess how far I ran, followed by rounds of high-fives. The best part is the fact that they never ask me why I keep doing this to myself, despite old lingering injuries or those new ones that pop up; they always tell me how proud they are of me, and take note of just how hard I have to work my body to keep it up. You'd think that seeing their mom head out for a 3 hour training run and come home to what seems like torturous ice and stretching routines would scare them away from running, but it's done quite the opposite - they love it. Our 5 year old will hop on our treadmill and follow it up with some foam rolling. Our 8 year old loves to run the local 5k's, and is a speedy little thing already. Instead of getting discouraged when they feel tired or the burn of their little muscles working hard, they always end their runs feeling proud of themselves. The littlest people in my life are my biggest motivators.
Distance running is a constant struggle. What makes it more tough is the mental games it plays along the way; I feel a twinge of pain and then start worrying about whether or not I should continue, followed by the frustration of that choice, which can make every step of every mile seem eternal. Motivational research has been one of the few things to keep me going. I am endlessly inspired by elite runners and am constantly trying to better myself as an athlete through their guidance; whether it's Shalane Flannagan's cookbook Run Fast Eat Slow, Meb Keflezighi's book Meb For Mortals, Eric Orton's book The Cool Impossible, or Matt Fitzgerald's book How Bad Do You Want It, I've been able to take something from each and every one of these reads and apply it to my own training, meals, and mentality. I've since been able to turn each injury into a learning experience (which subsequently helps my profession as a Sports Massage Therapist), inherit new breathing and form techniques that have improved my gate and cadence, use food as fuel on a daily basis, and when the miles get tough, remind myself that it's "mind over muscle".
I may not be built for what I do, but I have to work damn hard every single day to stay in one piece and accomplish the goals I set for myself. And, as long as my poorly-put-together body allows, I'll keep setting new goals and push myself toward further achievement. After all, thanks to my marathon-crushing parents, I was born to do this.
My daughters have a pretty rough understanding of "no pain no gain" when it comes to running recovery as they watch me foam roll and perform cupping therapy with a harsh grimace on my face and watering eyes. They are my biggest supporters. Every day when I come back from a long run, they love to guess how far I ran, followed by rounds of high-fives. The best part is the fact that they never ask me why I keep doing this to myself, despite old lingering injuries or those new ones that pop up; they always tell me how proud they are of me, and take note of just how hard I have to work my body to keep it up. You'd think that seeing their mom head out for a 3 hour training run and come home to what seems like torturous ice and stretching routines would scare them away from running, but it's done quite the opposite - they love it. Our 5 year old will hop on our treadmill and follow it up with some foam rolling. Our 8 year old loves to run the local 5k's, and is a speedy little thing already. Instead of getting discouraged when they feel tired or the burn of their little muscles working hard, they always end their runs feeling proud of themselves. The littlest people in my life are my biggest motivators.
Distance running is a constant struggle. What makes it more tough is the mental games it plays along the way; I feel a twinge of pain and then start worrying about whether or not I should continue, followed by the frustration of that choice, which can make every step of every mile seem eternal. Motivational research has been one of the few things to keep me going. I am endlessly inspired by elite runners and am constantly trying to better myself as an athlete through their guidance; whether it's Shalane Flannagan's cookbook Run Fast Eat Slow, Meb Keflezighi's book Meb For Mortals, Eric Orton's book The Cool Impossible, or Matt Fitzgerald's book How Bad Do You Want It, I've been able to take something from each and every one of these reads and apply it to my own training, meals, and mentality. I've since been able to turn each injury into a learning experience (which subsequently helps my profession as a Sports Massage Therapist), inherit new breathing and form techniques that have improved my gate and cadence, use food as fuel on a daily basis, and when the miles get tough, remind myself that it's "mind over muscle".
I may not be built for what I do, but I have to work damn hard every single day to stay in one piece and accomplish the goals I set for myself. And, as long as my poorly-put-together body allows, I'll keep setting new goals and push myself toward further achievement. After all, thanks to my marathon-crushing parents, I was born to do this.
