Tag Archives: recovery

How not to recover from a marathon

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I’m not running. Yes, it sucks, but I hope it’s only for a couple of weeks.

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.

Chris and Tori on Mt Doug summit

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 in Goldstream Provincial Park, Vancouver Island, British Columbia

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.

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Race Report: GoodLife Victoria Marathon 8k, Oct 10, 2010

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Goal: finish the race healthy and pain-free in an hour or so.

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.

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How to get over a DNF heartbreak: part I

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I came off the Queen City Marathon course at the 15k mark with injury to my left upper calf: the “popper” muscle I call it (popliteus).

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.

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