This past weekend my scheduled long run was 16 miles, just one more than the week before. I made the same plan as before, to run to the park and back, but this time I was more prepared. For one, I postponed the run by a day because thunderstorms were in the forecast. And two, I talked with my good friend who trained with me last year on these same trails, and she informed me that there was a way around the flooding under that bridge. If I dared, of course. The idea gave me great anxiety, but she was able to ride her bike out there and get a video of herself climbing up the side of the trail, still under the bridge, narrating the whole way. So I was able to see that it was possible, and that there was a well worn path made by other runners trying to get around the flooding issue (which apparently happens quite frequently).
It had stormed the night before this run, so I was not surprised to find the path flooded. I was not sure how I would do climbing up the side of this trail and under the bridge. I was really nervous. But I had already made sure my friend was available in case of emergency, and after the heartbreak of not making it to the park the week before, I really wanted to get to the other side. I felt I had never been more motivated to do a hard thing than at this moment.
I carefully made my way up the berm, climbing over rocks and stubble, keeping my center nice and low so as not to lose my balance. Stepping slowly in case of slippery spots. Once at the top of the berm, I had to take a photo because it was all still a little unbelievable.
I’m under the highway! 
From the top of the berm looking down on the flooded path 
I made it to the other side!
It was a pretty incredible experience, and I think the grins in my selfies say it all. However, my adventure wasn’t over yet! I still had several miles to run in order to reach my halfway point. Fueled by pride, elation, and electrolytes, I made it to my previous week’s halfway point and kept on going for that extra half mile. I was on cloud nine.
Until mile 12. I still had gas in the tank, feeling strong as ever, but my left leg hamstrings were starting to send me some serious warning signals. “We need a break, and if you continue to run, we quit.” Fearing injury and knowing that would really slow down my marathon training, I opted for walking most of those last 5 miles. Occasionally I would try running again, just to see how the legs were doing, but each time that pain came right back and only went away when I went back to walking. So, reluctantly I finished my long run with brisk walking. I spent that time giving myself pep talks and reminding myself how much of an accomplishment all this is, even if I have to walk. I remembered all the people who are rooting for me back at “home”. I remembered when I needed a walker to get around. I thought of all the other people living with MS who can’t walk, much less run. And I decided by the time I got home that I would count this run as a Victory with a capital V. I conquered my fear of climbing that dusty berm under the highway. I ran all the way to my halfway point, and I got home safely, avoiding injury. I still have my doubts about running 26.2 in September, but I’m trusting the training and just taking it one day at a time.
Made it to the park! 
8 miles! Now let’s go home.
Little M.S. Runner 