Just when I thought it was safe to run...

I have suspected for quite some time that I am addicted to running - whether it be the act of running, the endorphin kick during the run (or post-run if I'm lucky), or some ephemeral, yet-to-be-discovered reason ... I can't nail down any one thing about it that I like so much, and quite frankly, I don't want to either. The "why" doesn't matter so much within the context of this post - for now, let's just accept the fact that I'm an addict.

One component common to all addictions is the "need" factor ... choose whatever euphemism suits your fancy: jonesing, craving, hankering, yearning, longing - by now, I'm sure you get the point. Another commonality amongst addicts is what happens to their emotional state if they are denied their "fix". Many of us experience negative emotions, such as depression, anger, general bitchiness and the like. After my disastrous experience in this Fall's RVM, the last thing I was expecting to experience was a strong desire to go running. Quite frankly, as I indicated in my last post, running was the last thing on my mind. Nevertheless, as the week post-marathon stretched out, my mood (which wasn't great at the beginning of the week) got worse and worse. The blisters on my feet healed up very quickly - pretty much painless within just a couple of days. Mentally, though, I still felt that I shouldn't/couldn't go for a run. I tried swimming, but let's face it - I've never been a very strong swimmer, and after 30 minutes in the pool, I was exhausted, frustrated, and no closer to resolving my nasty state of mind. As the days passed, Michelle started asking me, "So, are you going out for a run today?" I think she asked once on Wednesday, and maybe twice on Thursday. By the time Saturday morning rolled around, she was asking once every 15 minutes or so! Fortunately, I have friends who are much smarter than I am - that means just about all of you - one or two of you suggested I should just go out for a "fun run". Leave the watch, the heart-rate monitor, the pacing foot-pod, all the technical crap at home and just go running. Period. No time, no pace, no plan. Those of you who know me as a runner, or perhaps, even just as a person can attest to the fact that I'm a numbers kinda guy. How fast am I running? What's my heart rate? Is it faster/slower than yesterday, or last week, or the last time I ran this route? What's my pace? How far have I run? yada yada yada ... the idea of running without all that data should have occurred to me ages ago, but like most of us, I tend to get too caught up in my own shit to think clearly. I finally took everyone's advice, and nervously laced up the Adistars on Saturday morning. I headed out with only the clothes on my back, so to speak, and hit the trail ... the result? WOW!! I had an awesome run. I'm guessing it was around 16 km (I have run the route before) and I think that it took about 70 minutes, but that's all I know from the numbers side of the fence. More importantly, that 70-ish minutes of running bliss did what no amount of splashing about in the pool could do - it banished my "running demons" and proved to me that, yes, I am an addict, and yes, I can still run. I may have crashed out during the marathon, but lo and behold, I can still run. I want to shout it from the rooftops - I CAN STILL RUN!!! At least, as long as I'm not injured...

...which leads to Tuesday of this week. I didn't run Sunday, or Monday - went back to the pool to keep trying. I played some badminton for a couple of hours on Monday night (another love of mine - haven't played in about a year - running took over) and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I got up early Tuesday morning to drop Michelle's car off at the repair shop, then ran home from the shop, covering just under 10km. It was a hilly course, and I felt that I worked hard on the hills, and got home feeling pleasantly tired. By late morning, I was starting to limp, and by about 1 o'clock, I could hardly put an weight on my right foot. I started to panic and called work to book off of Wednesday's shift. I tried to get in to see my GP for Wednesday morning - no joy - he's out of the country. I opted for a walk-in clinic ("hobble-in" might be more accurate!) instead, wanting to get a quick diagnosis just in case I couldn't work. Apparently, "quick" was not the order of the day - I waited almost 90 minutes to see the doctor. The actual visit was brief, but informative nonetheless. The doctor told me that I have "sesamoiditis" - inflammation of the sesamoids, which are two jelly-bean sized bones in the base of the forefoot, just behind the first metatarsal. Luckily, the treatment is very straightforward - rest and anti-inflammatory medication. The doctor tells me that I should be right as rain in just a few weeks. The downside? I'm back to not running - again. Let's hope that poor Michelle can put up with me long enough for my foot to heal. Anyone know where I can find a runner's detox centre?

The Return of the Blogger Virgin

So, a few months ago, I started this blog with grandiose plans of publishing daily. Then life took over, and I had to adjust my projected posting frequency to weekly ... then marathon training took over, and I had to resign myself to posting less frequently. It could be argued that once every 60-ish days hardly counts as even infrequently .. and you might be absolutely correct. In any case, I have returned (with no promises, I might add) and am happy to be back. I just wish I had better news to offer up in celebration...

As I mentioned earlier, my (sudden?) disappearance from "The Crinson Chronicles" can be linked to a dramatic increase in my training mileage, combined with a 6-day-a-week work schedule. All that training time was aimed at a very specific race - The Royal Victoria Marathon, which took place today here in Victoria (oddly enough - where else, nimrod!). I posted a note regarding my personal race experience on my Facebook account earlier today - here's a copy:

"It is with a heavy heart that I share these results with anyone who cares to know ... for the first time in my life, I didn't complete a race. I went into today's event mentally and physically prepared, but at some point, all the wheels fell off. I made it as far as about 35km before deciding to pack it in. The first half of the race went extremely well - I hit my projected splits at 10K, 20K and the half-way point almost bang on. At 26km, I suddenly lost steam. At 30K, I was only 2 minutes slow against my projections - even at that point, I thought it may have been salvageable. The next 5 km took roughly 35 min to complete (2 1/2 min/km slower than expected race pace!) By that point, I was walking more than I was running, and starting to get pre-hypothermic (for those who aren't local, the temp was cool, about 12 degrees, and it started pouring with rain about an hour and a half into the run). At 35km, I stopped and told a volunteer on the course that I was abandoning the race. After a period of time, I was picked up by a van, and driven back to the finish line to attend the medical tent. I wasn't suffering from any immediate medical concern, so they patted me on the back, gave me a hot chocolate, and let me go. Perhaps the worst part of my whole race experience followed leaving the medical tent - I found myself face-to-face with volunteers who tried to put a finishers' medal over my head! I had to graciously decline (no small feat, I tell you that!) and hobble my way through the crowd to make my way to where Michelle was waiting for me. All in all, a very disappointing day ..."

So ... "now what?", you may ask. I've spent a good chunk of time since deciding to abandon the race (what a horrible phrase - lemme know if you can euphemize me a better one!) trying to figure that very question out - now what? The blisters on my feet (caused, I think, by choosing to run in the wrong shoes for this event - Rod, you were right after all) will heal in probably a week or so. My wounded pride may take quite a bit longer to sort itself out, to say nothing of my confidence level! For the immediate future, I see the local swimming pool as my new training ground. When it comes to swimming, I have no illusions whatsoever about my (lack of!) talent - I have all the natural buoyancy of a stone, and only slightly more natural talent at propelling myself gracefully through the water. I guess I'll have to knuckle down and get some lessons on swimming correctly - I can muddle along for a few hundred meters at best, then it just gets ugly. Given the depth of my addiction to running, I can say with reasonable certainty that I will return to it, probably will run the marathon here in Victoria again next fall. For today, though, the prospect of lacing up my Adistars and heading out for even a light jog is a grim one at best.

One final note on today's race(s) - congratulations to all who participated - good job. I would especially like to thank all the volunteers who made the event happen - your selflessness in donating so much of your time, especially on a chilly and damp Thanksgiving weekend; cheering us all on, making sure that we all stayed on course, handing out blankets, finishers' medals, removing timing chips, helping out at the Expo ... we who run are indebted to all of you. Once again, a most humble and heartfelt "Thank you".