It sneaks up on you literally at night. You wake up in the morning with a twinge of heel pain. It goes away after you walk around a bit and you think “Huh. That was nothing.”

Send help immediately.

But then it happens a couple of days later. And another after that. Soon it’s every morning when you get up.

But it feels better when you go for a run, so you don’t think much about it. Except, slowly, it gets worse. Soon, your foot starts hurting after you’ve been sitting at your desk for a couple of hours.

Then, if you still do nothing about it, you’ll end up having foot pain while out for a run. When you get up from bed or from sitting more than an hour you are hobbled. Then you’re in real trouble. Don’t believe me? Read this.

I know all this because I’ve been there, several years ago. It took six months or so to heal completely and get back running: physiotherapy, massage, ice baths for my feet, no-impact cardio (I couldn’t even push off the wall when swimming laps, or do hills during spin class). For a time, my only real workout was daily stretching. It was demoralizing. It sucked.

So, this morning when I got out of bed for the third morning and the niggling little twinge in my left foot was worse, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. Different foot this time, I caught it earlier, and I know what to do. Here’s hoping I won’t have to be off for long. I’m signed up for two half marathons in the next six weeks and I’m determined to finish both of them.

My first massage appointment is tomorrow. Wish me luck…

Photo: Aches and pains by quinn.anya used under Creative Commons license.

Thanks to @FootSourceMD for the link to information about plantar fasciitis.

Lesson learned: do not try to get back into running too soon after a marathon. My first post-marathon run was a slow, easy half hour (about 4 k) while I was on Salt Spring Island six days after the marathon. Chris “tsk tsk’d” as I went out the door of our hotel room.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll take it really easy,” I said.

Mount Doug summit!

Then a few days later, after we were back in Victoria, we went trail running at Mount Doug. I even got off course and we had to bushwhack a little bit to get up onto the trail again. It was fun, but my foot hurt after that.

A few days after that, we did the 10k loop around Elk Lake.

After Chris went back to Sackville, I really wanted to get onto the trails so I did Mount Finlayson – twice – and went for a 10k with the Frontrunners gang. I may have gone a bit fast …

All within a month of running a marathon.

I know some people can get back on a schedule like that within weeks. I am clearly not one of those people.

My big toe joint became inflamed again, I have an extremely tight sacroiliac joint, and a hip flexor that nags me every time I wake up. My physiotherapist told me to hold off on running for a while and just stick to biking to keep up my fitness.

Trail below Mt Finlayson

That was before the second Mount Finlayson run. I’m stubborn, aren’t I? After that run (which was really pretty, I love Goldstream Park!) I found I could not even sit for very long without my back hurting.

It’s a hard lesson to learn. It’s finally getting really gorgeous and sunny outside and I am stuck inside on the elliptical, the spin bikes, the yoga studio. How frustrating! Oh well, at least I have a balcony on which I can sit and relax with a G&T after my workout.

I was plagued by phantom popliteum pain all week leading up to the race. (Plus the need to carb-load, even though this is not a long-distance race!–Old habits I guess)

I even considered not racing, but one of my work colleagues, a veteran trail runner, counseled that I probably needed a “FINISH” under my belt for my own peace of mind.

He was SO right.

I met up with some other running gals the day before at an impromptu Marathoners Tweetup and soaked up the great energy. One was running her first marathon: I saw in her the sense of trepidation and excitement I felt exactly a year ago. The other two were running the Half. It was just the fellowship I needed.

I woke up early and walked to the start line, timing it just so I got there, checked my extra gear and made it to the start with 2 minutes to spare. I’m getting this racing logistics thing down to a science!

With over 3,000 runners in the 8k though – I got behind some walkers and slower runners. I kept telling myself “This is OK – you don’t WANT to actually race – you just need to take it easy and finish pain-free.”

So I tried to calm down, keep my pace at 7:00/km or slower, and take in the positive runner energy around me. I feel kinda bad that “positive runner energy” for me meant comparing myself in smugliness to other runners. I have a bad habit of judging other people, especially when I’m nervous about my own performance. For example:

• Why would you wear a water belt with 16 oz of fluid for a race that will take you at most an hour? I couldn’t believe how many people I saw doing this.
• Why do they let wheeled walkers on this course, but not baby strollers? (Not that I want either on the course)
• Why not corral the walkers behind the runners?

I guess I’m just not used to running shorter races with lots of people participating – it was definitely an eye-opener and something to consider if I ever decide to run another 10K.

At any rate, the race was a relief, I felt very little pain in my upper calf, and the most fun part of the day was coming back to the Marythoner’s station to dance and cheer on my run clinic buddies as they came in for the homestretch in the  marathon.

Knowing all that, how do I handle it in the meantime? A Google search for steps to recover from running heartbreak turned up nothing, but there was a LOT of advice on relationship heartbreak. Now here’s something I know a little somethin’ somethin’ about!

I turned to my favourite relationship/sex advice duo: Em and Lo. They wrote the book on heartbreak and have a 10-step plan for getting over a breakup.

I’ve stolen translated their advice in abbreviated form here and adapted it for running, and I am following it to a T:

1. Numb the pain…for approximately seven days (two weeks max, in extreme circumstances). Everyone needs time to hit the wall, overeat, drink themselves silly, and generally self-medicate. Rent Shirley Valentine Spirit of the Marathon with a good friend. Get drunk on box wine. Go to a Saskatchewan Roughriders football game with your son. Lean on your friends, especially those who insist on referring to your ex as F**face running habit as crazy. Make a breakup playlist new workout playlist. Don’t feel guilty about crying yourself to sleep at the side of the road as other runners fly by. Briefly consider sexual reorientation taking up lawn bowling. Get drunk again.

2. Cut the cord. As tempting as it may be to call your ex go straight to the finish line looking for closure, hoping to be friends (i.e. “frexes”) watch everyone else cross the finish line, pretending that medal is really yours, this is not the time to concern yourself with F**face obsessing on why you got injured mere days before the race. Just go home and put that ice pack on your knee.

3. Think negatively about your ex (the race), especially if it helps you manage step 2. Avoid looking back on your relationship training with rose-colored hindsight or beating yourself up about what you did wrong. (Yeah – that course was way too flat anyway. I need more hills …)

4. Git ‘er done. After you’ve broken down, it’s time to rebuild yourself. You have it in you: start that political blog, dust off your bicycle, take that fiction writing class get thee to your physiotherapist and DO THOSE STRETCHES THEY GIVE YOU DAMMIT— after all, you’re more than someone’s other half just another injured runner.

5. Give back to the community. Nothing like volunteering at the local orphanage a marathon in your community, or raising money for a good cause to put your heartache in perspective.

6. Give yourself a “breakover.” If revenge is on your mind — and we know it is — get back at your ex injury by getting in the best shape of your life, getting the best haircut of your life, getting the laser hair removal you’ve always wanted …. (or at least a pedicure!)

7. Mark the occasion of moving on. Have a breakup DNF party with all your friends. Burn his effigy your race bib.

8. Go shopping! It may sound a little Tri-Delt, but retail therapy can work by temporarily filling up that void inside you just long enough to get you through the next day.  (W00t!: I’m getting new trail running shoes!)

9. Go on the rebound. Take up cycling, swimming and pool running for a while. We know you’re not here yet, but don’t underestimate the benefits of distracting yourself with the joys of being single cross-training so that you won’t be tempted to indulge in any late-night Googling “I’ll-just-try-an-easy-one” runs or other spying on your ex 5K races.

10. Think positively. This is not the death of sex and love running long distance. This is the beginning. Say it again: This is the beginning! Now sing it: “I will survive!” Because you will survive. And you will metabolize race again. Remember, dating injury is your chance to find better sex and truer love cross-training activities and re-learn your love for running. Take comfort in the fact that, with every passing day, as the pain subsides, you’re that much closer to your destiny (BOSTON!).

I had been for a run last Monday when I developed a tight calf muscle. I wrote about it earlier. I was hoping for the best but knew I might not be able to cross the finish line yesterday.

I was fine until 14.5 k. The pain was a dull roar, a tightness, and I was about 10 sec/km off my pace, which was OK by me. After 50 minutes on the course I was just getting warmed up and starting to enjoy the run. I had re-adjusted my goal and I just wanted to finish in 5 hours or less.

Then, on Assiniboine Avenue right next to the cemetery and across from an Apostolic church, I felt a sharp pain that drew me up into a limp and slowed my pace by about 30 sec/km. Another 500 m and I knew, with 25k to go, I wouldn’t even finish within 5 hours and this could only turn into a miserable death march.

It was really heartbreaking – I have never, ever DNF’d before and it feels like crap. But I made the right decision- I had to stop running or risk a really crippling injury. There’s “fatigue” pain you can run through and then there’s sharp, localized pain that is bad news. Smart runners know the difference. I want to be a healthy runner and I want to run the 8k in Victoria in a month’s time.

So how do you get over a DNF heartbreak? I dunno – you tell me.

I’m still in Saskatchewan for a few days – the bright light of my day is when I visit with my friends, my son, my daughter and her baby. Otherwise I’m still glum, missing my finisher’s medal, feeling incredibly fit and raring to go; except for that damn “popper” muscle in my left leg.

Part II of this series is the post where I get over my DNF heartbreak, then report back on my findings. I’m open to ideas – can any runner out there who has bounced back from a DNF please tell me how you did it?

PS: race course volunteers are saints. Especially Patty and her daughter Becky, who gave me water, a place to sit and cry for a while, and a ride to the 25k mark where my son and his dad were waiting for me with extra water, motivational signs written in Greek (um – my son is a Classics major…) and a flask of Irish whiskey.

Spirit has fifty times the strength and staying power of brawn and muscle.

Here’s the deal: I’m boarding a plane to Regina this afternoon and I’m running a marathon there on Sunday.

Here’s the catch: I’m limping.

Here’s the story:

I have been feeling fantastic: training went well, taper started a couple weeks ago, I’m feeling strong and well-prepared.

I went for a run Monday night: 10-11 km was all that was on the schedule, including a 5k pick-up at about a half-marathon pace.So I warmed up for 1.5k, ran 3k tempo and slowed it down a bit for 2 k. Then I met up with Scott (the loyal, consistent member of my Running for the Truly Terrified group) and we ran an easy 6 k from there.

Towards the end of the run I noticed my calf was a little stiff. We stretched when we finished, it went away. Then when I got home I iced my feet and had a hot shower – no stiffness. The next day I felt great – nothing hurt or was stiff.

It was rainy though, and I broke out my winter shoes and walked around all day in them. I don’t have a car, I live close to downtown, work, grocery stores, etc. so mostly I walk to where I need to go.

That night though the pain came as I lay in bed: upper calf just below the knee. Ouch. I iced it, then I heated it. The next day: same thing, but I though it’s just those pre-race nerves you get that amplify every little creak and grown in your body. I laughed it off — sort of.

I flew to Vancouver, where I walked from the Helijet terminal to our office downtown, and back at the end of the day. It was a beautiful day, I wouldn’t think to take a cab or shuttle!

Except my leg kept hurting. I started to get worried, but I thought – no problem, I have my pre-race massage booked for Thursday afternoon.

Nicola, my massage therapist, explained as she worked on it, that it’s a little sausage-like muscle right behind the knee that has stiffened up. She tells me if I heat it, and work at it myself, a couple times a day today and tomorrow, I should be OK to run.

As I walked to meet up with some friends last night it was acting up again, hours after Nicola’s magic touch. Discouraged, worried, sore, on the verge of tears, I hailed a cab home, put a warm pack on my knee and commiserated with my daughter.

What if, after all that training, that one little sausage-like muscle keeps me from finishing the race? What if I can’t even run at all? How am I supposed to run if I can’t even walk without a limp?

Well then, I wouldn’t be the first runner felled during a race because of an injury. One wise marathoner told me the true test of my mettle would come the day I had to DNF (“Did Not Finish” – it’s what they list you as if you drop out in the middle of a race). I’ve never done it, not over a number of 10k, four half marathons and one marathon – not finishing is just about the worst thing I could think of doing.

I keep going over my past week wondering what I could have done differently. Did I push the pace too much Monday night? Was it the winter shoes I broke out on Tuesday? Why couldn’t I just wear old runners in the rain and bring other shoes to work? Did I walk too much thinking it would loosen up?

Woulda coulda shoulda – what’s done is done. Even as I write this I realize all is not lost. I will follow Nicola’s instructions. I will be there at the starting line on Sunday. I will probably finish the race – but the dreaded DNF is an option if I’m completely crippled by injury on race day.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world, just another story in my running/life journey.

• Walk past the Telus telephones to the end of the hallway.
• Turn right and continue walking.
• Walk down the hallway.
• Pass the LAB on the left.
• NUC MED is on your right.
• PLEASE CHECK IN.

In fact, you have to walk quite a bit past the pay phones, past a couple of laboratories and such (none of which are marked “LAB”), take a couple of turns and jogs (but essentially staying in the same long hallway), and pass at least two sets of elevators before finding a sign marked – not “NUC MED” as advertised – but “Nuclear Medicine.”

I received the directions two weeks ago when I showed up for my bone scan. They injected me with some inert isotope stuff (to provide contrast for the pictures), sent me away to let it seep into my bones, and I returned two hours later so they could scan the pesky, painful big toe joint on my left foot.

Will I ever be able to wear them again?

My doctor revealed the results yesterday. The good news – not a stress fracture, as she had feared. I am fine to run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon and start training for the Royal Victoria Marathon.

The not-so-good news: it’s arthritis, probably caused by mechanical imbalances in my physiology, combined with wear and tear from years of running, hiking, climbing and my love of high heels. I thought about this for a day and got kinda depressed.

Fractured bones heal. Joint damage is permanent, as far as I can tell. I’m going to have to manage this pain for the rest of my life.

So far my Google search has turned up next to nothing. Runner’s World Online has a couple of articles about how running does not cause arthritis (well, all things being equal, and on the whole, probably not – runners are on the whole healthier. But biomechanical imbalances are another ball-o-wax). There are a whole bunch of web sites just itching to take my money for some supplement or other. Um – no thanks. I’m sticking to science-based medicine thank you very much.

I’m breaking in new orthotics as I write. I’m on another course of anti-inflammatories. That’s all I got – for now. I see Sue the Physiotherapist on Tuesday, who has already cleared me to run the race on May 3. After that – well – it’s not going to stop me from running. Not yet.