I recently read a book for book club called Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor. Ever since, I’ve been thinking a lot about the dark, and my relationship to it. When I lost my vision and hearing I became very afraid of the dark. My limited field of vision leaves me wanting more. If I could just get more light in, maybe I could see the whole picture. With more light, maybe I could see it all. But that’s futile wanting. Even with full light, I still can only see fractions. I’ve had extra lighting installed everywhere in my home. Extra lamps in the bedroom, recessed lighting in the living room, under the cabinets in the kitchen. It does help when I’m trying to get work done and need to see specific things. Paperwork, food I’m preparing, the dust on the couch. But it doesn’t fix it. I’m still partially blind.
How long to you feed the longing for something you lost? How long do you entertain the yearning when you know it’s not coming back? Is the frustration worth it? Probably not. When is it time to give up the striving? Probably now.
I’m learning to sit in the dark. I woke this morning to get the kids up for school. I know they are teenagers and should be able to do this for themselves, but I enjoy it. I enjoy being around them in the calm of the morning. I know I’ll miss it when they are gone. This morning when I came downstairs to let the dogs out, I intentionally did not turn on the light in the kitchen. We have under-cabinet lighting, so it wasn’t completely dark. But it wasn’t completely light, either. It was nice. Calm. When I let the dogs outside, out of habit I flicked the outdoor light on and our deck flooded with artificial light. It was harsh, and as I looked out into the yard I noticed the moon hanging low in the sky. It was a near full moon, and it was majestic. So majestic, that I decided I needed to turn off the floodlight and let the moon shine in all its glory. I stood on the deck as the dogs ran around the yard and just absorbed the blend of early morning light and dark.
Normally I would have been trying to conjure up some profound thoughts in response to this moment, but today I just wanted to be. I just wanted to breathe in the morning, thank God for giving me the moon, and let that be enough. Over ten years into this disability, I am still grieving my losses. I don’t think grief is a checklist to be completed. It ebbs and flows, and it never truly ends. But I am thankful that it has waned, and is not so soul-crushing as it used to be. I am learning. Learning to sit with the dark, look up to the sky for solace, and be okay. Because today, that is enough.
Today I used up too many spoons folding laundry and fixing lunch, so I had to make the decision to stop part way through and cross some things off today’s to-do list.
Spoons? What?! No, I’m not having a stroke. I’m referring to the Spoon Theory. I was trying to explain this Spoon Theory to my therapist this week, because she had never heard of it either. This article explains it much better than I can: https://www.goodrx.com/health-topic/mental-health/spoon-theory. Basically, it is a way that many people living with chronic illness conceptualize how to manage our energy levels. Each day we wake up with a set number of spoons, and as we go through our daily tasks, we use up those spoons.
I can say that for me, I never know how many spoons I’ll wake up with each day. My spoon rations (I.e. energy levels) are unpredictable and sporadic. I often have moments in the day where I feel energetic, but it hardly ever lasts very long. That happened today. I woke up feeling pretty well, considering the excessive fatigue I’ve been struggling with over the last month or so. I folded a load of laundry, started on a second load, and then noticed the time and realized I needed to eat. I went down to the kitchen and fixed myself a breakfast taco. After eating, I went back upstairs to finish with the laundry and just couldn’t. I had to sit down. Lie down, actually. Like it states in the article linked above, everyday tasks demand extreme effort. Getting dressed, brushing my hair and teeth, all cost daily “spoons”. I forget that fact and tend to overdo it. Repeatedly. I may never learn. But that’s why I’m grateful to have loving family members and friends who graciously remind me of my limitations (something like, “you have M.S., remember?”) and give me permission to rest (I know, I can give myself permission, but sometimes it helps to hear it from someone outside yourself.)
So. It’s only 2:30 pm and I’m thinking about what I have on my plate for the rest of the day, and how many spoons it will take to clear that plate. I am attending a sporting event for my son tonight and I know that’s going to require several spoons, so I’m resting in order to reserve my energy for that. Because even if I have enough spoons to get there, it’s likely I won’t have enough to pay attention to what’s happening or carry on conversations. With cochlear implants, having conversations uses up a lot more spoons than it did before I was deaf. Same with the vision. It takes a lot more effort to get around than it did before. Thankfully, my husband will be there to support me. That is always reassuring. But that act of evaluating my daily activities and how it will likely affect my energy levels is a daily thing. I think about it all. The. Time.
I’m not sharing all of this to whine, and I hope that’s clear. I just thought you might be interested in hearing a bit about what my daily life is like living with this chronic illness. As I told my neurologist earlier this week, managing M.S. is like a full-time job. Seriously. And I’ve had it “easy” for a long time now, so I suppose I was due to have some difficult days. I’ll get through this. Lord knows I’ve done it before and with His help, I’ll do it again. Slowly but surely, one day at a time.
So with that I say – take a break, reader! Go outside, listen to fun music, take a nap. And happy Friday… have a wonderful weekend.
I stood in the aisle at Wal-mart, flooded by the harsh florescent lights above. Crafts to my left, kitchen goods to my right. I said to my sister, “Kari, I just have to say… I really hate not being able to see things.” And then the tears quickly started to fall from my eyes. She came over and wrapped an arm around me and said “I know. I mean, I don’t actually know, but I know how hard it is for you.” She held me for a minute, just knowing I needed that moment to process some of my never-ending grief. You have to let yourself move through it. It comes in waves, but thankfully doesn’t linger for long.
We had been shopping all day for Christmas gifts for our families and this was our last stop. I still had one gift to find for my husband and I was exhausted. Sure, my feet were sore, but I was more mentally exhausted than anything else. It’s tiring having to find things when you can only see a scattered portion of what’s in front of you. If you’ve ever been overwhelmed by the vast varieties of mayonnaise in a large supermarket, then you have a glimpse into my frustrations. Multiply that by 100.
I said to Kari, “it’s not like this at home. At home it’s easy; I feel like I can see everything.” And that’s not because I can physically see what’s there, but it’s because my brain knows. It knows because I live there and interact with every inch of every surface, every drawer, every cupboard. I know because I put it there. Unless someone moved it (or I did, and just forgot), I don’t have to wonder. I don’t have to move my eyes or head around to find things or to read labels. As long as the cans are where I put them last, I know where to find the soup from the beans.
At home, I don’t feel so slow. Out in the world, out shopping, I’m slow. And I am sure I look it. Strangers walking by might think, “Wow, she’s really taking her mayonnaise choice seriously.” No, I’m just trying to find the one I need out of the thousands in this Wall O’Mayo. I’m not conflicted about the decision; it just takes a long time to find and read the words on the labels when you can’t see most of the letters. In my world, patience has become a virtue I would not survive without.
My visual impairment is a permanent result of optic neuritis. Optic neuritis is a fancy term for inflammation of the optic nerves, and for me, it comes out of the grab bag of damage multiple sclerosis has left me with. It presents differently for everyone, but my particular case has left me with permanent blind spots and atypical color blindness. The blind spots are like thick, scattered clouds that impede more than half of my visual field. I’ve compared my vision to taking a completed 1000 piece puzzle and randomly removing 600 pieces. And then spilling water on it to mute the colors. The atypical color blindness means I have a difficult time distinguishing colors like blues, greens, reds, browns, etc. unless they are highly contrasting. This is why I often can’t see cracks in the sidewalk or the texturing on the white walls in my home. I lived in my current house for six years before I discovered the front facing was painted two different colors. The loss of visual field means I can’t see whole faces. I’ve hugged complete strangers thinking they were family members; I’ve stared blankly at friends I’ve known for decades. Again, patience has become a necessary virtue for me.
When I described my vision to a friend recently, she said it sounded like I was a human viewfinder. Which sounds a lot more fun than it really is, but I’ll take it for the laugh. It’s either that, or cry. I’ll take the former, always. Unless I’m at Wal-mart, I guess.
**Note, I started this post several days ago and didn’t finish it. I just didn’t feel like I was writing the way that I used to, or would like to, or “should”. All kinds of silly reasons to abandon a post, but whatever. I’ve been trying to hop back into the art of writing that I have loved, on and off, my entire life. After completing that marathon I was exhausted in so many ways and then lots was happening here at home that required my energy and attention, and then Thanksgiving, and on and on with the reasons/excuses for my absence here. I really desire to get back to regular blogging, regular writing. Lots of changes have happened with me over the last two years so I’m hoping “Writing Mel” is still alive here. I believe she is, and we are just dusting her off a bit. Bear with me, por favor. Gracias. Now back to the original post.**
I noticed when I logged onto WordPress today that they had a writing prompt; the question was “what will your life look like in three years?”. Which is interesting to me, because I was just hopping on here to tell you about a discussion I had with my husband recently that was along these lines. We were basically discussing whether we were content with our lives. And if asked that question, I would say that absolutely, I am content. However, if you had asked me 15 years ago if I would have chosen this life for myself, the answer would have been “hell, no.” I would never have chosen to be disabled and unable to work a job. Having multiple sclerosis, being deaf *and* half-blind, simply put – SUCKS. But I’m 10 years into this, and while it’s taken time, I’ve slowly learned to see (not literally, unfortunately lol) and be thankful for the benefits that have come from it. I’ve learned from these struggles. They have made me who I am today, and I love who that is.
I feel like I’m coming into a new season of life. I’m done training for marathons (for the next few years, at least). My kids are teenagers and can feed themselves (and prefer to, actually). The dogs are pretty low maintenance. So now I’m at a point where I’m learning how to rest. I’m learning how to be okay with sitting still. For as long as I can remember, I have had trouble with sitting still. Not that I physically can’t, but that when I do, there is a general unease felt underneath my skin and deep in my spirit. Like I’m “supposed” to be doing something. I’m often noticing my shoulders are hunched up and I need to consciously pull them back down.
I was actually discussing this general unease with a friend the other day, and she expressed how completely opposite she was from me in this regard, and we had a laugh. She seemed like she was saying she rests too much, and finds herself procrastinating. Sounds a bit like we would do well if we came more to the other’s side and met in the middle. But then where would be the fun in that? I love the variety I see in all of my friends and family members. It’s funny to me the things we experience and think are normal for everybody, when really we are all so different in so many ways. It makes life a lot more interesting, and brings us closer together as we support each other in our areas of strength and weakness.
So back to the season of rest. That’s where I am currently. I still have an ongoing list in my head of all the things I want to *do*, but I’m trying to be more kind to myself. While I’ll never regret running that second marathon, I will admit that I made the commitment without full consideration of my limits; physically, mentally, emotionally. So you could say I’m taking a break. Ish. A semi-break. Evaluating what I value most, and then easing those things back in. It feels a little like riding an inner tube on a lazy river. I’m enjoying it so far.
And that, my friends, is a little taste for you of the rambling that goes on in my brain on the daily. You are welcome. See you next time.
I so badly want to tell you all about this marathon, but it’s 9 days post-race and I am still processing. The mental fatigue is real. I have really struggled to put pen to paper and that is why I decided to just give you this brief update and save the full rundown for another time. So for now I will leave you with this:
This race marked a 10 year anniversary and celebration of how far I’ve come since becoming permanently disabled. I have healed in so many ways mentally, emotionally, and physically over these past 10 years. I didn’t realize it when I signed up for this race, but it has served as a symbol of that healing. Completing this marathon marked a tangible victory representing a thousand little intangible victories that have happened over the past decade. I am truly grateful to all of the family and friends who have supported me through everything. All the difficult moments where I didn’t know if I could stand, literally and figuratively. I would not be here today without them. Drawing from my faith in Jesus Christ and the support from so many others, I was able to complete this second round of marathon training and ultimately, the epic 26.2 mile race at the end.
My husband and kids, and my fabulous cousin and guide runner Zack. I’m in a wheelchair because you get special treatment if you can’t stand up at the finish 😉
Now my only real goal for this second marathon was to beat my first marathon time, which was 6 hours and 59 minutes. I had trained for and run a half marathon at the end of May, so I took that into account when deciding where to jump into a marathon training plan. My official marathon training then began in June and I trained for an additional four and a half months. In that time I ran and walked 306.2 miles for a total time of 76 hours, 17 minutes, and 7 seconds. As for the race itself? I finished my last 26.2 miles in 6 hours, 20 minutes, and 4.8 seconds. And if you are having a difficult time wrapping your head around all that? Now you know why I’m still processing 9 days later. It was so much work and I doubted myself from start to finish, but I stuck with it and I completed my goal. No, I crushed my goal. Obliterated it. I am proud of myself for completing this monumental challenge and I may do it again someday, but for now I’m going to hunker down and rest. An aggravating part of me is really itching for the next big goal but I’m giving myself the time I know I need in order to decompress and recharge.
Thank you for following along with me on this marathon running journey. It has been truly unforgettable. Good night and God bless.
And above we have your girl, Flat Marathon Mel. This is basically what I’ll be wearing tomorrow. Unless I change my mind on the way and switch out accessories. I’m going by the forecast so we’ll see if the weather cooperates. It’s looking to be around 50 degrees and dry. The rule of thumb is to dress for 20 degrees warmer because your body heats up while you’re running. I’ve always followed this rile and it works, but it does feel a little like torture in the beginning when you are standing in the cold feeling drastically underdressed. But I know my body, and I heat up quite a bit, maybe more than 20 degrees, so I believe the tank and shorts should be perfect.
I seem to have forgotten why I signed up for this race so I’ll be spending the rest of the night reminding myself. It’s gonna be fun. It’s gonna be worth it. And God has and will give me the strength to keep going when it gets hard. This race represents all of the ways Jesus has healed me physically, mentally, and emotionally over the past 10 years. This one isn’t about proving i can do it. This one is about enjoying the growth process and celebrating the outcomes. This race for me is about proclaiming victory. We can do hard things when Jesus Christ is our strength.
Lord Jesus, please be with me extra close tonight as I pretend to sleep and tomorrow as I pound the pavement for 6 or 7 hours. May you get all the glory for this one. I couldn’t do it without you.
And also thanks to my cousin Zack, who agreed to be my guide runner without hesitation! He enthusiastically agreed and I’m looking forward to our extended time together. This is such a unique opportunity to share. It’s truly a gift, and I’m excited.
Let’s shake it up and start with the stats. This week I traveled a total of 9.51 miles on my feet and my banked marathon training miles are up to 499.2. If I had just gone for another short walk or run I could have hit 500! Oh well. This week.
So I had leg day at the gym on Sunday with my daughter. She’s been joining me at the gym, which has been a nice change. On weekdays we go after she gets home from school, so we have to walk to the bus stop to take the public bus. Unless we feel like walking the 2.5 miles, which on Tuesday we did not. So I counted the distance walking to and from the bus stop (0.7 mile each way) in my weekly miles because, hey, I used my legs so I figure it counts. If you disagree you can take it up with the manager. We were planning to go again to the gym on Thursday, but it was raining and neither of us felt like walking in that, so we skipped that day.
I’ve been doing my long runs on Saturday, but I had planned on volunteering for a local race Saturday morning. Sunday we had plans with family, so I knew that wasn’t going to be an option. So, I made sure to get my long run of 6 miles in on Friday instead. The weather has been cooling down here in Michigan, finally, so I was able to get my run done in the late afternoon, just before dinner time. It was a tad warm, but nothing like the hot summer days. I don’t miss those one bit. I loved this 6 mile run. I keep saying this, but I felt strong. Fast, even. And when I saw my overall average pace at the end, I realized it wasn’t just an illusion. I was speedy, relatively speaking. I’m not fast compared to a lot of other runners, but this was definitely the fastest I’ve been since I first started running. And the best part is that I wasn’t struggling to breathe, my knees weren’t screaming at me, nothing. Zero issues. I was rocking that sexy pace, Martinus!
I am super excited about this race. The taper has been really nice because I feel like it’s also freed up my brain and spirit to start really engaging more with life around me. To really relax body and soul instead of feeling like a running zombie. It’s still a little weird because you feel like if you’re not running, you are possibly losing fitness, but I know that’s not the case. Millions have gone before me in this endeavor and they swear by the taper. So I’m trusting the process. I’ll do some light running this week, maybe some easy strength exercises, and then Saturday we’ll head to the race Expo to pick up my packet. We’ll hopefully meet up with my cousin Zack, who is my guide runner for this race. We were never able to meet up for a training run together but we’ve talked through everything and I’m sure we’ll do just fine. Once I’m home from the Expo I’ll pack all my stuff, lay out Flat Marathon Mel with my clothes and bib so I can start the visualizing – I’ll take a picture to share with y’all – and then I’ll start the sleepless night before the big day!
Would you like to know what’s on my packing list? In no particular order, this is what I bring for a long race (don’t let anyone tell you running is a low maintenance sport, they are either lying or in denial):
Garmin watch
Cell phone
Arm sleeves (look ridiculous but actually quite useful)
Knee strap
Bandana
Hydration vest
Running belt
Clif Bloks (salted watermelon)
Gu Roctane energy gel (sea salt chocolate)
Protein bar (brand undecided but probably Clif)
Hat
Deaf Blind safety vest
Guide vest for Zack
Contact lenses
Shoes (duh)
Socks
Sport bra
Shorts (or pants depending on the forecast)
Tank top (unless it’s below 40 degrees Fahrenheit I’m wearing a tank. The pits need to breathe)
Deodorant
Gold Bond Friction Defense (to prevent inevitable chafing)
I’m a list gal, tried and true. This list may look long and overwhelming, but it actually puts my mind at ease, because this is how I reassure myself I’m not forgetting anything. I loathe being unprepared. I just get so much anxiety thinking what I would possibly do if I went somewhere without the things I “need”. Yes, I’m addressing this with my therapist. It’s fine. I’m fine, everything’s fine!
In 7 days I’m going to be running another f**king marathon!! And it’s going to be amazing and I’m going to have so much fun. And when I cross that finish line I’ll get that medal and my family will be there to shower me with hugs and donuts (wink wink). Stay tuned, folks! It’s gettin’ real!
I’m tapering folks. So scaling back on the miles has led my brain to check out a bit on other things. Or something like that. Let’s see, last week was week 17, and my long run was a measly 8 miles! Weekday obligations kept me from some of the shorter runs but I did manage to run on Thursday. I had to pick up another prescription at the pharmacy so I ran there and back for a total of 4.23 miles. When I run errands, I *literally* run errands.
Saturday I would have loved to run my 8 miles early in the day before it got too warm out, but my son was playing in a tennis tournament and I wanted to be there to watch him. It was a lot of fun watching him, but I’ll admit when the sun came out I was growing anxious about completing my 8 miler. I watched his first two matches and then had my husband take me home (the tournament was being held at a local high school) and then returned for the last match. So while the boys were finishing up with tennis, I was out hitting the pavement. I don’t remember much about this run, and I didn’t take notes afterwards, but nothing memorable happened, which is a good thing. No pain, no injuries, no real struggle at all. I’m still feeling strong.
Let me remind you, I’ve never been an athlete. I’ve never been remotely athletic. For many it comes naturally, or so it always seems to me. So this journey into running still really blows my mind. Ten years ago I was using a walker to walk from the couch to the kitchen. Now I’m running 8 miles on a hot day with ease? Little by little, I have become someone who does that. And it’s WEIRD. Because I’m still the same goofy girl inside. I just move a lot differently and am able to say yes to things that would have previously exhausted me. Hallelujah, thank you Jesus.
So week 17 recap is pretty minimal. Total weekly miles were 12.23, bringing my grand total marathon training miles to 489.69. As of today’s posting, The marathon is 10 days away and I am getting excited to slay this beast!
I realize all I’ve been posting are training updates. I do. I realize marathon training is challenging and can consume your life. It’s clear that’s what has happened here, but I’m comforted that the race is less than 5 weeks away and then I can rest again and resume focus on other things. But also, it’s only 5 weeks away and I don’t know if I’m going to be ready. Which I think is probably true of anyone training for a race this big. I just have to trust that what I’ve been doing is enough on race day. And where it might not be, I can make up for it with that inner grit and grace I keep tucked away for emergencies. My only goal this time is to finish faster than the first one, and I do think I’m poised to make that happen. (Because the first one was laughably SLOW, but I finished!) I’m learning so much about my body and my endurance through this training process. So without further delay, here’s this week’s recap…
Sunday – I can’t count the 6 miles I ran on Sunday because I was viewing them as “make-up” miles from the day before and already included them in last week’s totals. Whatever.
Monday – this was a gym day and I got a really good workout for my legs with the weight machines. Seated leg press, leg & calf extensions, seated leg curl, hip adduction, glutes, and a little bit of arm weights (I did not look to see what the machine was called, but it was much like rowing a boat.) This time I was able to get a ride home from the hubby since it was Labor Day and he was home from work.
Tuesday – Rest.
Wednesday – My original plan was to run on the treadmill for 90 minutes but I was having abdominal cramping, lots of GI issues, so that sort of stole my day. I did manage to walk 1.6 miles at dusk, however, so that was nice.
Thursday – I took a 2 hour morning nap and the rest of the day listened to running podcasts for motivation. I hesitate in sharing this because it isn’t in the training plan, but I think it’s important to note that sometimes you have to listen to your body when it tells you it needs the rest. I’m just afraid my body’s ultimate intention is to keep me from running this race. And running podcasts do help to motivate and educate me, so I don’t believe this was a day wasted.
Friday – This was the big day. The weather was perfect for a long run of 22 miles and I went to bed the night before fully prepared. I had my hydration pack cleaned and filled, I had my gu’s and gels in the pockets of my backpack, and all my clothes and other gear were laid out. I left around 7:30 am, just after the kids left for school. It was misty and overcast and around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Perfect! I was having so much fun on this run. I had listened to an interview with Martinus Evans, a back of the pack supporter, and he was recommending that we run our training runs slow, and he described it as “sexy pace” which I thought was hilarious. So every time I would notice I was speeding up too much I would say to myself, “Sexy pace, Mel, sexy pace.”
I think I must have been taking the sexy pace too seriously, swinging my hips too hard maybe, because at 7.5 miles that sharp pain in my right knee appeared, fierce and unrelenting. I had decided that day not to run with my knee strap, but I had packed it so I put that on, hoping it would relieve the pain. It did not. I sat down and called my sister, a veteran runner, and asked for her advice. She encouraged me to try walking, and at least that would be time on my feet, but ultimately listen to my body. I walked for another 1.5 miles, and the pain was coming and going, but never going for very long. At 9 miles I stopped and decided I was done for the day. I made a few calls and the first lucky person to answer was my husband, who graciously left work to take me home.
I took the above photo just before I decided to call it quits. I was walking, still in pain, and so happy to see that red house because it meant the public park I had been anxious to reach was just on the other side. I don’t know if you can see the red house, but it’s to the left of the two white houses. The park on the other side is the hub of our city’s local trails and I was really looking forward to running around the lake there.
Once I got home I ate some lunch and got to taking care of my knee. I put on my compression knee brace and kept that leg elevated as much as possible. Going up and down the stairs of our two-story home was painful and slow. I sat in bed, researching what I could possibly do to make this better and avoid it happening in the future. I came across some discussion about the run-walk-run method that I use, and discovered I really wasn’t doing it right. My intervals were running for 4 minutes, walking for one. But according to Jeff Galloway, the perfecter of this method, I shouldn’t be talking walk breaks longer than 30 seconds. And based on my pace and fitness level, I needed to look at a much shorter running interval. I read a comment from another runner who said she runs 60 seconds, walks 30, and that is what has kept her from her knee pain, so I thought “why not give that a shot?”. I changed the settings on my running watch and resolved to try it, once the knee pain was gone, of course.
And do you know what? I woke up the next day with zero pain. Not in my knee or anywhere else for that matter. It was no small miracle, if you ask me. So, I decided to get out and run again. I didn’t know if I could make up the 13 miles I was short the day before, but I wanted to see how the shorter intervals would work for me, and I would pay attention to what my body was doing. I stayed around the neighborhood this time, in case the whole plan went sideways. I could not believe what a difference the shorter intervals made. Before I knew it, I had knocked out 7 miles and felt like I still had a lot of gas in the tank. I would have gone for more but the temperature was rising and I didn’t want to push it. Plus on that 7th mile I thought I felt a whisper from my knee telling me it needed a break.
Now, I’ll be honest. I’m still pretty freaked out about how far I’ve had to stray from my training plan. I feel strong, yet I still have doubts I’ll be ready for this marathon in *gulp* 34 days. Even though I’ve been running for seven years it still feels new to me. I have learned so much but there is still so much more to learn. I guess you could say my faith was in the training plan, and now I’m having to redirect the source of my faith. Sure, ultimately my faith is in God, but I am a pragmatic and I have a healthy regard for the physical world and its limitations. Read: my physical limitations. Which, to be fair, are constantly changing and amazing me. I know that God has been the one to empower me to continue building a stronger heart, stronger legs, stronger lungs. I still remember needing to use a walker to walk, and I don’t ever want to forget that. Because while I’m trusting in God to keep me going, it’s important to respect where I was and realize that’s always still a possibility. Because M.S. is a permanent part of my life, unfortunately. And if I ever need motivation to keep racing, to keep running, that is it. That is my WHY. I’m doing it now because I CAN, and that may not always be true.
For those of you following along, I ran 17.6 miles this week for a total of 240.29 miles marathon training. Add that to the 193 miles I trained for the half marathon in May and you have a total of 433.29 miles banked for the upcoming race on October 15.
This week, again, did not go as planned. But I still made a lot of progress and I’m proud of myself for what I’ve accomplished over all these years of running. Over the past 10 years I’ve gone from barely walking to not only becoming a runner but also running ridiculously long distances. I’ve had to really bring the memories of my major MS relapses to mind in order to motivate myself to keep going, despite being unable to follow the plan to the letter. I tend to forget why I signed up for this marathon, why I committed to all this training. I wonder if I’ll be able to continue, if I’m physically capable. And then I get out there and run and I’m reminded of how strong I’ve become and how important this has become.
So here’s the recap.
Strength training: I did not have a chance to get to the gym for leg workouts, but I managed to get a lot of squats in at home in between scanning old documents. I’m on a decluttering kick since getting my hutch refurbished. Creativity wins!
Run #1: I ran on Monday, just a quick lap around the neighborhood. I went down every cul-de-sac and street, which turns out is a total distance of 2.24 miles. Handy information to have sometimes. When I returned home I hung out with the dogs on the deck, which they love. Our golden retriever, Punky, loves to lick all the salty sweat off my skin! I don’t let her, but she tries. Shown in the photo below, I was trying for a sweaty selfie but she was more interested in licking my face.
Run #2: Timing and weather and me not wanting to get out of bed early enough meant I was back on the treadmill. A planned 75 minutes for a total of 5.02 miles. On my last 10 minutes or so I decided to run through the walk interval. I was feeling strong and anxious to finish. The cool thing was that a song I had just added to my playlist that morning, Run Like a Rebel by The Score, came on just as I started my last interval. It gave me a boost of happy feelings so I finished the run on a good note.
Run #3: Welp. I was gonna run 20 miles. Really didn’t want to. My husband helped talk me up some and gladly offered to drop me off at the gym. I had learned you could change the timing on the treadmills, so I was hoping to run the whole 20 in one session, but found once I got there that you could change the timing, but the max was 99 minutes. Just like my treadmill at home. Oh well, at least they have better displays there. And way more fans blowing cool air.
I started, ran my first 99 minutes. Actually, they allow a five minute cool down, so I just sped the treadmill up and went for an even 100. Took a photo, marked my time, refilled my water bottle, pulled out my protein bar and an extra pack of gummy electrolytes, and started a second session. I started the second session feeling awesome, rocking out to my tunes, and made it 52 minutes. Out of nowhere it was as if a razor blade or sharp piece of plastic had magically appeared in my shoe. I had to stop immediately. For several embarrassing seconds I was wondering what had happened. Then it dawned on me… a blister had popped on the side of my middle toe. See, I’ve been running with my big toe buddy taped to my second toe. That buddy tape rubs against my middle toe. After 10.1 miles, I guess it was too much friction. I went to the locker rooms to inspect the damage, shoved some toilet paper in between my toes to cover the open wound, and walked gingerly back to the treadmill. I tried to walk, then slowly jog, but it was far too painful. After much internal deliberation, I decided I needed to call it quits. I called my husband to come pick me up and resolved to give my toe a break and get the miles in some other time. Again.
This time, however, I wasn’t quite as disappointed about missing the miles. Because I was paying attention to what I was actually able to do. I ran 10 miles Saturday and I still had life in me. I still had energy and strength available to keep running if it hadn’t been for the popped blister. And now I have something new to learn: how to prevent and care for blisters! Which is something I need to know. Because as my sister had shared with me (ironically, just the day before) something she heard on a running podcast: “Didn’t you think your feet were going to hurt?” Yes, yes they will. Deal with it and move on, sister. We’ve got more miles to go.
This week I ran 17.71 miles altogether. I also did a whole lot of squats, some good walking, and pulled a thigh muscle playing Pie Face (I startle way too easily). Total half marathon miles, 193. Full marathon miles, 161.98. Grand total full marathon miles to date: 354.98. We’re still moving forward folks! One step, one punch, one round at a time.
Deaf and half-blind runner with multiple sclerosis
Little M.S. Runner 