9 days

So here we are – 9 days until the Boston Marathon. 

Last Saturday, I headed out for my last long run before the start of my taper – 20 miles. My team mates had run the Hop21 the week before, from the starting line at Hopkinton to the top of Heartbreak Hill in Newton. I ran with them, but per my physical therapist’s orders, I stopped after 16 miles. My plan was to peak the next weekend. It wasn’t easy to drop out of the Hop after only 16 miles, but after 16 miles I felt reasonably good, like I could have kept running, so ending on a high note was nice. I felt excited for the following week.

Team Flutie before the Hop21

I decided to head back into Boston for my 20 miler so I could run it on the course. My teammates run most Saturdays from Copley on the course, then turn around and run back. I planned to run with them, but just go further than the others. 10 miles out to Wellesley, then turn around and run back, up Heartbreak Hill and back to Copley Square. I wanted to experience those blasted hills I’ve heard so much about.

I guess it is only fitting that my longest run of my training was a complete disaster, because this whole training experience has really just been a disaster. I ran from the finish line backwards on the course, which means I ran uphill for six miles. But I felt ok. As I reached the Johnny Kelley statue and snapped my picture, my teammates started to turn around and head back. While I was

Last Saturday at mile 7

running, I reflected on how difficult it has been for me to see my teammates succeeding, healthily running, improving themselves, and looking forward to their impending marathon finishes. I have struggled for the last three months. After tearing my quad Jan. 12, I took six weeks off running. I struggle with depression and anxiety, and running is a big part of managing it. So as a result, my depression flared up as well as my physical injury. Then once I got back to running, I found that although my stamina was ok, (thanks to a whole lot of lap swimming) my body was certainly not healed. It seemed the quad tear had healed with scar tissue pulling on my knee. Whenever I ran, I had real pain in my knee, as well as in my quad and shin. Because of this, my pace had slowed way down, and my overall pace was slowed down more by the need to utilize run/walk intervals.

I have been under the care of numerous doctors and specialists, including my physical therapist, acupuncturist, chiropractor, and orthopedist. I’ve had all the tests, xrays and scans and have the OK from all these individuals to keep running. Over a week ago I visited Newton Wellesley hospital where a leading surgeon gave me a cortisone injection in my knee. I hoped this would solve enough of the pain to get me through my training and enable me to complete the marathon. But alas, the injection has done nothing, and I am in just as much pain as before.

One of the great things about being a part of the Charity Teams group (which is about 300 runners comprised of different Boston Marathon charity teams), is that there is a ton of support. Facebook groups, group runs etc. But when you’re injured, and you either can’t run at all or can’t run as well as you’re used to, the FOMO can be intense. I’m embarrassed to say that I have suffered from some serious jealousy. I haven’t been able to participate in many group workouts, and when I have, I’ve been isolated due to my pace. My teammates are wonderfully kind and supportive, but I feel like I’m weighing them down. In hindsight, I realize that I retreated further away, trying not to check the Facebook group page, and not wanting to attend group events, because it honestly just hurt so much to be around healthy runners.

Last Saturday, as I started to run by myself and the aid stations ran out, I realized it was the first warm(ish) day of the season. It was pushing 60 degrees, and when you’re used to training in 10 degree weather, you feel it. I also had chosen not to run with my Camelbak, instead using my hydration belt with two small six ounce bottles. I had learned the previous week that Cambelbaks are not allowed in the marathon, which makes perfect sense as they are a security threat. Anyway, I was surprised by how quickly I was going through water, and how hungry I was. Luckily I found a water fountain in front of someone’s house (oh Newton, I love you), and ate a Huma gel pack, but as I turned at the Newton Fire Station at mile 9, I still started to feel really crappy. 

I had felt exhausted going into the run, due to an intensely stressful few weeks at work and in my personal life. I’ve come to realize that I just have a stressful job and that’s not going to change, and in general I handle it well. But over the last month I’ve been crumpling a bit under pressure and am truly struggling to balance everything. There’s also a lot of strain trying to keep up with my kids, their activities, and school requirements. I haven’t been sleeping well and wake up exhausted with headaches. This morning, I woke up to find my left eye swollen and red. I know it’s partially due to my swim goggles which irritate the skin around my eye, but still - I look like Quasimodo. Awesome.

Members of the Flutie Team before our run last Saturday

Anyway…

My knee had been hurting during the whole run, but it always hurts and I’m usually able to manage the pain. My PT has been teaching me how to tell the difference between manageable and unmanageable pain, and so far I had made it work. But as I headed into mile 10, I started to really worry I couldn’t do this. Yet I continued. I’ve never cut a run short, and I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the concept of not finishing. I would finish – that was it.

I turned around at mile 10 and headed back. Past the firehouse and a right turn to start the Newton Hills. Hill one – done. Hill two and three, complete. Then I started up Hill four – Heartbreak. I was feeling like absolute shit. I was in so much pain in my knee that I thought I was going to throw up. I ran up Heartbreak, but then tried to go down the other side. My body just wouldn’t let me. My knee gave out and I fell. I got up and walked a bit, then tried again. Fell again. I knew I had to stop. If I kept going, I would do real damage and not be able to run the actual marathon.

I collapsed on the front steps of a Chestnut Hill mansion and wept, clutching my leg in agony and fighting nausea from the pain. I ordered an uber, but soon after I stood up and said dammit, I just cannot quit. I cancelled the uber and started running again. I fell again. The tiny rational part of my runner’s brain said, enough Jennifer. Just stop. Sometimes the right thing to do is to quit. I called another Uber. Eric in a grey Hyundai Sonata came and picked me up. I kept my earbuds in so Eric in the grey Hyundai Sonata would not talk to me. I knew that if Eric in the grey Hyundai Sonata tried small talk with me, I might just throttle him.

So that’s the story of my final long run. 15 miles. The worst run ever. I texted my PT and she told me she felt confident it had only happened because of the extreme uphills I had put my knee through, and that on the actual course I would be ok. Plus, I needed to change my fueling scheme, and would likely not be as run down physically and mentally on marathon Monday. We’d also incorporate some new exercises to further strengthen my quad and knee, and I’d rest during my taper and all would be ok. Another project was to focus on form, so that as I tired, my form would not be affected causing more pain. I thought she was nuts.

After everything I’ve been through, I finally felt defeated. I wanted to quit. I’ve raised the money, no one can take that away from me, who really cares if I put my body through this? The whole point of my running is supposed to be to have fun. I usually really enjoy running. I mean I love it, a lot. But I haven’t enjoyed much of my running over the last six weeks. I mean, I guess, I haven’t enjoyed it at all. It’s been miserable. It’s been really miserable.

So I went home. I cried, I showered, cried, ate, cried, and I slept. I rested. I saw my PT on Monday and again on Wednesday. I cried. I swam, I rested. Finally, I did start to feel a lot better. My PT is a gem and she really helped as she walked me through what had happened. She checked my quad and it was not re-torn as I had feared. She instructed me to run four miles Wednesday night, which I did. It was ok – I had pain in the knee, but it was a lot better.

Over the last week I’ve done some serious thinking about if I even want to do this race. People tell me that I can crawl across the finish line if I have to. But what I’ve realized about myself is – although I really do respect people who crawl to the finish, it’s just not me. I’m not sure I’m a person who can crawl across the finish. I’m a runner, not a crawler. My gut reaction has also been that I don’t like to toe the starting line of a race I’m so unsure I can finish. The possibility of a DNF is really hard for me to swallow. However, through my contemplation, I’ve come to realize that, whether we know it or not, every race we start has a possibility of ending unfinished. What about the mighty Deena Kastor in the 2008 Beijing Olympics – a favorite to win, and after only three miles, her foot broke and she was forced to withdraw. Deena was at the peak of her physical and mental strength, and had no idea there was anything wrong with her foot. Yet it happened. Isn’t this a metaphor for life? We really just don’t know what is going to happen. But if we just give up, how can we possibly find joy in anything? 

At my saddest moments, my mind turns to the 2013 Boston Marathon. All those people who trained for five months and woke up on Patriots Day anticipating their own Boylston moment, but were forced to DNF because of a terrorist attack. And of course the three people who died and hundreds who were injured. Those poor people would love to be me with a superficial injury to my knee. If my biggest problem is whether I can finish some silly race, I guess I’m pretty fortunate.

Making the choice to train and run a marathon is certainly a monumental and unique endeavor. But in ways I did not anticipate, the stakes are much higher with the Boston Marathon than the other two marathons I have run. Obviously it’s hard to get into, everyone knows that. Either you qualify or you go through the arduous process of being accepted to a charity team, and then raising all the money. But beyond that, I find the experience of Boston to be very exposed. I feel like everyone is watching. Anyone can look up your bib and track you. My parents and my mother in law are all visiting to watch me run. Even my coworkers will even be coming to the finish line, and my teammates will be there too. The other day at my community center, someone I don’t know told me “good luck with the marathon!” 150 people have donated to my fundraiser, bringing in over $11,000. When you think about it, running something like Boston is amazing in ways many people don’t initially realize. For a non-elite athlete with a job and a family to voluntary put him or herself out there, with such a high probability of failure, is amazing. To voluntarily walk up to the start line is almost like shouting “Hey, millions of people watching, I might fall, I might break bones, I literally might SHIT MY PANTS, but I’m putting myself out there for a good cause, to try to accomplish something great, so here I go!” In today’s world where we’re all pretending to be smarter, more confident and more successful than we really are, subjecting oneself to that kind of vulnerability is absolutely incredible.

Sully last Sunday at Preston Beach

So there it is. It’s been hard for me – I went from being able to run 10 miles at an 8:30 pace to struggling to do 15 at 11:00. I’m not sure if my body will hold up for the marathon, but I guess I’m going to try.

9 days ya’ll. 9 days until I either finish the Boston Marathon, or drink like 10 margaritas and pass out. Or maybe both? I’ve got options…

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