Monthly Archives: April 2010

After I ran what I initially considered a disappointing 5K time at the Silver Spring Earth Day 5K on April 19, I promised myself I’d be more patient as I plotted my comeback to full activity. I decided that if I raced again anytime soon, I would have no time expectations for myself, and that I may just postpone the whole racing thing altogether as my body slowly regains fitness after six weeks of no cardio at all following wrist surgery (not to mention the toll surgery itself takes on the body).

Me running a disappointing race at the Silver Spring Earth Day 5K a week ago.

Then, last Thursday, we started talking about running the Crystal City 5K Fridays series in Arlington the next night. We were so certain we were not going to run it, I ran hard on Thursday (to be honest, every run is a hard one these days!). But Friday was such a beautiful, clear spring day. And the race course is flat and fast. And it was only $15 per person to register the night of the race. And a few of our running buddies said they’d do it with us. And there was a post-race party that included free beer. Suddenly, being sore and out of shape seemed a silly reason to sit out a fun time.

Runners at the start of the first Crystal City 5K a few Fridays ago.

My goal for the Crystal City 5K on Friday night: to run my little heart out, and to cross the finish line smiling. And guess what? I totally did! I ran a time very similar to last weekend’s, finishing in 25:29 for 8:12-minute miles (that was hard to write, but moving on…). I enjoyed every painful minute of it, and when I met up with Steve and my other running buddies after the race, they all said they saw me smiling as they passed me at various turnaround points. While I still would have preferred to run a 24-something rather than a 25-something, I had a great time, which is the only good reason to do a 5K like that, anyway.

There’s one more race left in the Crystal City 5K Fridays series, and I’d highly recommend Washington-area runners consider doing it. The course truly is flat, and the atmosphere is low-key and laid-back. The field stays pretty crowded for the first mile, so if you care about your time, don’t count on being able to catch up to your pace group after starting in the back (not that I know anyone who did that … ).

Also, the post-race party was pretty spectacular, despite being a bit of a hike from the finish line. It featured a deejay, a dude playing bongo drums, a projector with a reel of images from the Olympics and famous track-and-field events and decorations like lamps made out of old running shoes. Did I mention the free beer?

In other news, I had my first therapy evaluation last Wednesday with a therapist who encouraged me to “go crazy” using my wrist, doing anything I feel capable of short of contact sports. I have taken his advice, and have since opened cans, unlocked doors (turning a key is hard with limited mobility!) and generally tried my hand (ha!) at just about everything else. He even said the 1-Mile Bay Bridge Swim in June might be a reasonable goal. Best of all, he’s a runner himself, and while we waited for my hand to warm up in a heating pad before stretching, he and I had a thoughtful discussion about the merits and perils of barefoot running. In other words, he *gets* it, which is about all you can ask for when it comes to a medical professional who’s helping you get back into fighting shape.

I have a secret. Even though I signed up for the race the day before, even though I have only been allowed to do cardio for three weeks following a forced six-week hiatus after wrist surgery, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t care about my pace until six weeks after my first run back, I had a goal time for the Silver Spring Earth Day 5K on Sunday in the back of my mind.

I wasn’t trying to beat my time from last year’s race. A 23:46 — an average of 7:38-minute miles — is a good 5K time for me, and that would’ve been setting myself up for disappointment. However, I thought I could come in under 25 minutes, even in a worst-case scenario. My legs had other plans. The last mile, a long uphill on Wayne Avenue, was simply rougher than I expected, and I ended up finishing in 25:18—roughly 8-minute miles. As in, my normal training pace for five- or six-mile routes just a couple months ago. Ugh.

Last year, I looked comfortable and strong in my Earth Day 5K race photos. This year, I looked less like a woman running a race and more like an exhausted invalid on a very serious, grim mission to deliver an iPod and a Garmin to someone across the finish line.

I spent a minute or two sitting on the curb, pouting and feeling bummed that I now had a solid, depressing metric to compare the shape I’m in now to the shape I was in a year ago. But I realized pretty quickly that I’d chosen the wrong metrics to define victory. True, I was slower than last year. But I’d discounted the fact that the ability to run at all, in a race or otherwise, represented a massive improvement over two months ago, when I was laying on the couch in a Percocet daze, unable to make it through the afternoon without a nap.

I picked myself up off the curb and caught up with my running buddies. We headed to brunch at a greasy-spoon diner, where, as one running buddy put it, we all set personal PRs for caffeine consumption in a single hour (that coffee was heavenly!). And after brunch, when I put on my fleece for the jog back home, I accomplished what is a huge victory these days: I zipped up my fleece without outside assistance! My running buddies, appreciating my own personal victory even more than I did, cheered as if I’d just broken the tape at the Boston Marathon.

In other news: I can type with both hands again! I have to take regular breaks to avoid swelling, so my blog posts will likely continue to be sporadic for at least a few more weeks. Better yet, I finally get to start formal physical therapy tomorrow, making me feel like more victories are in my near future.

I came across an interesting blog post earlier this week about how endurance athletes tend to be dedicated, hard-working employees–how “who you are outside of your work parallels who you are when you are at work,” and how “the type of determination, discipline and emotional focus that comes with training” translates to the workplace, too.

I read it at a time when I’ve been thinking a lot about how my training schedule can not only fit into my fledgling freelance-writing career, but how it can make each work day more productive by improving my endurance and focus. When I first started working from home, with only myself as a boss, I felt guilty every time I pulled myself away from my computer for a midday run. I’m shifting my mindset to not only make it OK to take a midday run break, but to time that run break so that I get a burst of energy and a sharpened focus just when my productivity drops off. In other words, I’m using a late-morning or mid-afternoon run break to stand in for a handful of dark-chocolate Hershey’s kisses for a workday pick-me-up.

It’s an idea espoused by novelist Haruki Murakami (the running, not the chocolate) in his running memoir, “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.” Murakami writes that he took up running because he found it helped him hone the kind of focus that is essential to long-form writing: “Most of what I know about writing I’ve learned through running every day,” he writes. “These are practical, physical lessons. How much can I push myself? How much rest is appropriate—and how much is too much? How far can I take something and still keep it decent and consistent?”

Murakami says he considers his daily run a vital part of his work schedule, saying: “Running every day is a kind of lifeline for me, so I’m not going to lay off or quit just because I’m busy. If I used being busy as an excuse not to run, I’d never run again. I have only a few reasons to keep on running, and a truckload of them to quit. All I can do is keep those few reasons nicely polished.”

A forced six-week hiatus from running (and all other cardio) following wrist surgery in February has made me reassess my own reasons for running. Besides physical health, I keep coming back to the idea that I like the person I am when I’m running. I am more focused, patient and disciplined with my training than I am in any other arena of my life, and the more I run, the more I become the person I am during my daily workouts.

When I work out in the morning, I spend the day thinking that if I can run five miles while the rest of the world is asleep, I can tackle anything else the day throws at me. When I run in the middle of the day, I skirt the terrible, sluggish hour between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m., gaining a burst of energy and focus from my run rather than losing even more productivity by messing around online for that hour. I sit down at my laptop feeling refreshed. When I run at night, I process the day’s frustrations, and truly *leave* work (not easy when your office is your dining room table!). I return home ready for sleep to refresh my sore muscles.

All of that proved true on Tuesday afternoon, when I attempted my first speedwork since returning to activity post-surgery. I ran three 1-mile repeats ranging from 8-minute-mile pace to 7:30-minute-mile pace–only slightly slower than normal! I got through the last mile by repeating: “Focus. Focus. Focus,” and willed myself to keep my eyes off the clock. I returned to work full of energy—and full of the confidence of feeling like, if I could get through that, sending a round of pitches to new editors would be a piece of cake.

A few other gems from Murakami’s lovely book:

On finishing a distance race: “It was like a tight knot inside me was gradually loosening, a knot I never even realized, until then, was there.”

His opinion on stationary bikes: “Those worthless bicycle machines.” I couldn’t agree more.

How does running make you a better employee—or boss, or parent, or spouse, or friend? How do you plan your runs to best complement your life?

In other news, I’m proud to report that I’ve crossed another major threshhold in recovering from my wrist surgery: I get to ditch the splint while I’m at home, and I can start formal therapy next week! The stiffness and soreness is still pretty monumental, so I’m especially looking forward to the latter.Best of all … I get to start swimming again! Now, I just have to find a pool I can take Metro to–the wrist isn’t quite mobile enough for driving a stick-shift yet.

As runners, we are constantly rewarding our bodies for jobs well done. After long runs, we sit in muscle-soothing ice baths, and painstakingly prepare protein recovery shakes to help our muscles rebuild. After races, we wear our medals proudly, and treat ourselves to our favorite dinners to celebrate. When we are sore, we foam-roll, stretch and get massages.

But when we are injured and can’t run, we often struggle to find appropriate ways to show our bodies that same love, even though there’s no more important time to do so. It’s been almost seven weeks since my wrist surgery, and I’m just now fully realizing the importance of not just being mentally tough, but of being unusually kind to yourself during your recovery. A key component in doing that has been finding ways to love my body that don’t involve running, or swimming, or hiking. Here’s what’s helped me so far:

Chill out and accept it. I started saying almost immediately that there were worse things in the world than not being able to work out for a month. I haven’t always felt this chilled-out and nonchalant about it, but it’s true, and it helped keep my problem in perspective.

Accept your body as it is now. I wrote a whole blog post about this, but I feel like it’s worth mentioning again here. Remember that you’re doing more than biding your time until you can hit the road again. Part of this is appreciating all the little things your body can do right now. For example, cooking with one hand can be frustrating, but it is totally doable. If I were on crutches, not so much. My wrist may be out of commission, but the rest of my body lets me get out of bed, cook for myself, walk where I need to go and appreciate just about everything life has to offer.

Find ways to treat your body now. Take a bath. Get a massage. Buy fresh fruits and veggies at the farmers market. Take a walk around the block if your injury allows for a stroll, and make sure to notice how good the sun feels on your skin. Have a glass of wine with dinner without worrying that it will screw up your morning run. Or, if your injury requires pain killers that preclude a glass of wine, have a cup of tea (I special-ordered a box of Celestial Seasonings decaf chai as a treat for myself. I highly recommend doing the same, and enjoying your first cup in a nice, long bath.)

When you get to run again, listen to your body–and take it as slow as you need to. Yesterday, the sun was shining, the magnolias and dogwoods were blooming, and the air was the perfect temperature–warm in the sun and pleasantly cool in the shade, or when the breeze kicked up. Normally, I’d spend a beautiful spring day like that tackling a long run, and part of me itched to do just that. Instead, I listened to my body, which was still sore from my first week back to “regular” training (two weekday five-milers with Pacers, plus a weekend run and cross-training on the stationary bike), and Steve and I enjoyed a leisurely hike through Rock Creek Park instead.

How do you show your body love when you’re injured–or in general?

Proust had his madeleines, but for my money, there’s nothing that evokes a particular time and place in my life like music.    There are songs I play to conjure happy times, like the first up-tempo song at my wedding (Rosalita by Bruce Springsteen), or the song that was playing when I crossed the finish line of my first real distance race (Moving to New York by the Wombats). Other songs evoke such melancholy and pain, I can barely stand to listen to them (Tori Amos=high school angst, Josh Ritter=Steve’s deployments).

So it stands to reason that music can also serve as a vehicle for transition, and it’s in that spirit that I present the playlist below. For me, this week marked the transition between feeling like an invalid who is starting to resume normal activity to feeling like a normal person who is still kind of recovering from wrist surgery. Don’t get me wrong — I’m still in a splint, and I’m only just beginning range-of-motion exercises that will make my wrist functional again. But I truly feel like I’ve turned a corner, and I wanted to make a running playlist that would the transition from Percocet, casts, exhaustion and snow to good health, movement and cherry blossoms.

For the most part, these are positive, upbeat songs as appropriate for dancing as they are for running. The playlist devolves a bit toward the end, but five miles is still a long way for me — Feist is great in the beginning, but I need some Wu Tang Clan to help me get through that last mile. If you take nothing else from the five-mile playlist below, try listening to “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone on your next run. Let me know if you don’t feel somehow transformed.

Vibes and Stuff — A Tribe Called Quest

Mushaboom (Postal Service Remix) — Feist

Feeling Good — Nina Simone

Baby You’re Amazing — Josh Kelly

My Name is Jonas — Weezer

Walcott — Vampire Weekend

Get Right Back — Army Navy

Survivor — Beyonce

Dear Sergio — Streetlight Manifesto

Wonderful World — The Ramones

Gold Digger — Kanye West

Scenario — A Tribe Called Quest

M-E-T-H-O-D Man – Wu-Tang Clan

For the past week and a half, ever since I got to trade my cast for a splint, I have been going through my own personal “couch to 5K” training plan. Even after six weeks of no cardio at all following wrist surgery in February, I’ve been pleased to note that I have enough residual fitness to skip the actual couch to 5K plans — I’ve had no need to run-walk, and even my slowest, earliest jogs were faster than 10-minute-mile pace.

At the same time, it’s been a struggle to remain patient with a body that’s been working overtime on the business of healing. I thought that by this point, I would be back to typing with two hands, posting daily on this blog, training for a half-marathon on April 24, driving, and maybe even swimming to train for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim. Instead, I am still navigating an awkward return to running, having Steve drive me anywhere I can’t take Metro to, and writing with the help of a speech-to-text program, with my right arm propped up on a foam block so swelling and soreness don’t set in.

Me in my "office." I've lost the cast since taking this picture, but kept the foam block and speech-to-text headset.

I want to be back to normal, like, now. The best way I have found to combat this impatient impulse is to make a conscious, constant effort to live in the moment; to focus on running while I’m running, on writing while I’m writing, and so on. For example:

During my recovery, I read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. The novelist took up running because he found it helped him hone the kind of focus that is essential to long-form writing. He considers his daily run part of his work schedule, in stark contrast to the guilt trips I send myself on when I take time out of my work day to run, despite getting to make my own schedule as a freelancer. Lately, I have been following Murakami’s lead, and using my daily workout as a way  to sharpen my focus and increase my energy–a side effect of any kind of exercise, at any speed.

I have printed out yet another set of motivational quotes. The most pertinent one currently: “There is more to life than increasing its speed.” (Gandhi)

I have tuned in to the beauty around me on my runs. The Washington, D.C., region is swimming in pink this week, from the cherry blossoms downtown to the equally beautiful magnolia blossoms on my block in Silver Spring. I have made a special effort to notice and appreciate them, and to remember that you can appreciate the beauty of the natural world while running 9:30-minute miles, too.

Beautiful magnolia trees in bloom on my block.

Finally, I’m officially retooling my race schedule. I don’t get to start physical therapy until after my next appointment with my wrist surgeon on April 22, eight weeks post-surgery. No swimming until then, either. I’m starting to realize this means I probably shouldn’t be planning to throw my hand into the giant, frenzied, aqua-fist-fight that is the beginning of the 1-Mile Chesapeake Bay Swim in June. Nor should I be planning to run the hard, hilly Blue Ridge Parkway Half-Marathon in April, since my 5-mile group runs with Pacers Silver Spring still feel like marathons. Instead, I’m setting my sights on a few 5Ks and 10Ks: the Earth Day 5K in Silver Spring, the ZOOMA 10K in Annapolis on June 6, and the Clifton Caboose Twilight Run 5K on June 12 suggested by the race director, Gary, who suffered a similar injury to mine last winter. But I’m not signing up for anything until I feel good and ready–if I can be patient enough to skip working out entirely for six weeks, I can certainly be patient with myself for a few more weeks now.

Finally, thanks for being patient with me, and for continuing to stop by the blog despite the infrequent updates. Your comments boost my spirits, making me feel like I have my own personal cheering section in this slow, ugly race back to wellness!