In the woods

Tromping through the trails of Indian Cave State Park in southeast Nebraska provided a little cross-training over the weekend.

We began gathering with a bunch of friends for an annual fall campout, dubbed The Jamboree, more than 10 years ago.

When we started, everybody brought their dogs. Gradually, the dogs started giving away to kids. Sadly, many of the dogs who were puppies when this fall festival began now are mottled with gray hair or are no longer with us. A new generation arrived this year as Buddy the puppy joined us on the trail. The kids who started coming to the Jamboree as toddlers now are off on their own – sort of -- running through the woods and playing with the campfire.

Just because all the dogs and kids are getting older doesn’t mean that the rest of us are, right?

Pavement Therapy

OK, so that was not such a good idea.

I have been feeling better. Really I have.

My knee didn't hurt and my mysterious left foot ailment from the marathon faded away. The crisp morning air that greeted me each morning as I have been leaving for work seemed to beckon, "Jason, come out for a run...."

Why not? I thought. Maybe a short one.

So this morning I laced up my shoes for the first time in 12 days and hit the street, gently.

Well, within blocks I started feeling it in both my foot and my knee. Not bad, but enough to let me know that all still is not right. I cut it short and walked home.

I guess I am hard-headed, or maybe overly optimistic. Either way, now I am ready to take the advice.

More rest.

Progress?

It's been six days since my Milwaukee marathon debacle.

The good news? I made it through the past couple of days without resorting to the mondo-dose of ibuprofen that I needed to keep the aches and pains of my battered body at bay in the immediate aftermath of my 19-mile jaunt last Sunday. My knee still complains with nearly every step and something not good is going on with my left hip. But it's down to a relatively dull throb or twinge rather than a wild-animal-sinking-its-claws-and-teeth-into-my-leg kind of pain. That's a good thing, right?

A recurring image for me this week has been a woman runner limping back to the hotel in Milwaukee last Sunday. She was wrapped in a silver space blanket and was assisted by her husband. Although obviously in some discomfort, if not outright pain, she wore the medal given to all the finishers of the Lakefront Marathon. I ran far enough to hurt myself, but obviously not far enough to earn the medal that might offer at least a smidge of comfort from the glow of success.

OK, enough with the wallowing in self pity. It's time to move on.

I will give this resting stuff a few more days, but then I want to return to the streets soon for at least a short run to really see how I am doing.

Marathon dream fades away

They say that writing your goal on a piece of paper can help you visualize yourself completing it. A key step toward doing it. Sounds a little woo-woo new-agey to me. But what the heck. Thought I would give it a try.

On a 3x5 purple index card I wrote:

Lakefront Marathon 2006
- Be brave
- Have fun
- Finish the run

I trained all summer, preparing for my first marathon. I have never run 26.2 miles. Sounded a bit daunting. Before the summer started, though, I had never run more than 10 miles at a time. I now have logged multiple 10 milers, plus a 16-, an 18- and a pair of 20 milers. That’s something, right? Thought I was ready. The past months have included my share of injuries, but with stretching and rest, I thought I had them under control.

Sunday in Milwaukee started brisk, beautiful and full of promise. My first marathon.

The first 10 miles went well. With each strike of my foot, I scanned my feet and legs for signs of injury. No problems. I lit up when I saw Becky, Megan and Matthew at about the 7.5-mile mark. They were jumping and screaming as I went by. They have been awesome through months of training and they were awesome again Sunday.

Around 10 miles, though, my marathon dreams began to fade in a haze of pain and disappointment. The stabbing sensation in my right knee grew sharper, stronger and more persistent. Then the arch of my left foot began to stab, as well. What the heck? My right foot is the one that has bedeviled me at times in recent months. Never a peep of protest from its counterpart on the left side. On Sunday, my right foot behaved itself.

“Be brave, be brave, be brave,” I chanted to myself, hoping, praying and clinging to the hope that this written goal mantra would be enough to get me through. Gradually my one-minute per mile walk breaks grew a bit longer. The mantra wasn’t enough.

My walking turned into limping. A staggered gait caused by pain shooting through my left foot and right knee. I pushed onward. At about mile 17, the Gteam support crew reappeared. Cheering and waving at my arrival. I stopped. “My knee is shot,” I said as I bent forward, clutching my legs.

I tried to go forward, stopping a few times to stretch my calves and my hips. The race numbers pinned to our chests included our names. “Go Jason!” spectators called out. “You can do it.”

My limp gradually became more pronounced. With other injuries, I have been able to run through them, letting the surge of adrenaline mask the pain. It didn’t happen Sunday. By mile 19, I was done. My 2006 Lakefront Marathon result: DNF.

Sure, this was my dream. My goal. But part of it also was to set an example for Megan and Matthew. I wanted to finish what I started. I wanted to set a goal and see it through to success. Now I am not sure what kind of lesson I have taught or what example I provided.

Maybe I made errors in training. Too many miles too soon? Not enough, or not proper stretching? Maybe it was just bad luck.

I love to run and I loved training. For now, it’s time to heal. Then I need to seek a physical therapist’s help to condition properly – and then…try again.