Hindsight

As I look back and reflect on my last year of not running, and as I think about the emotions that I went through and the steps that I took to repair and heal my hamstring, I hope that my experiences will help another who might be dealing with the same kind of injury.

First and foremost, you know your body better than anyone else.  If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.  Looking back, I realize that I missed the warning signs.  Now, I know that the most prominent signal that something was brewing was the pain that went through my butt every time I sat down.  The ischial tuberosity hides under the glutes so, when you sit, the glutes move and you are on your sit bones, or the ischial tuberosities.  I always attributed the discomfort that I had while sitting to not having a lot of fat.  Similarly, I attributed any tightness or discomfort that I may have had through my hamstrings and butt to finishing a tough run (or race) or to a higher mileage week.  Not once did I imagine that my right hamstring was gradually fraying, which resulted in a 50% tear.

Secondly, stay positive.  In the past 10 months, I have worked with my family doctor, 2 sports medical doctors, an acupuncturist, a massage therapist, a chiropractor and a few physiotherapists.  For the most part, my visits with each of them were positive but there were times when I left feeling down.   Some days, anything from a doctor’s silence to a comment such as “That’s unfortunate” or “I hope this will help you” would scare me or send me into tears and leave me wondering “Will I ever be able to run again?”  I had to believe that I would heal and that any fitness lost would be regained.

And so I followed my gut.  While I knew that my tuberosity would heal, it took months to find the right treatment, primarily because I had to wait almost 4 months for the correct diagnosis. It was my GP, not my sports med doctor, who booked an MRI for me, and that had a 3 month wait.  I had just started to run a week before my appointment and thought about cancelling it, but something still seemed off; my gait just didn’t feel right.   My son convinced me to follow through with the MRI as it would give me more information about my injury.  He was right.  The hamstring tear turned out to be deeper than we originally thought.  It was the MRI that led to one sports medical doctor’s referral to another who specializes in hips and to a different physiotherapist, one who targeted strengthening the glutes and hamstrings, followed by another who realigned my pelvis.  And when the physiotherapists gave me exercises to do, I did them no matter how boring they were or spastic I felt.

During my healing and recovery, I focused on what I could do, not on what I couldn’t.  I spent hours each week on my windtrainer so that I could hold onto my cardio; within a 10 month period, I had ridden more than 3000 miles. I worked on my core and upper body  while strengthening my hamstrings and glutes by heading to the yoga studio 3-4 times a week (sometimes more).  I started swimming again and, by June, I was pool running to start rebuilding the same muscles that I use when I run outside.  I set goals that were achievable and I met them almost every single week.

Separating the platelets in the centrifuge.

But it still wasn’t enough. I had done everything that the doctors and physiotherapists had suggested but my right leg just didn’t feel strong whenever I tried to run.  So I followed my gut again and went back to the hip specialist, who proceeded with platelet rich plasma (PRP) therapy  at the end of June. Ultimately, it was the PRP injection that had the greatest impact on my healing.   The doctor had cleared me to run only 3 weeks after the injection, not after the usual 8 week period, and, for the first time in almost a year, my legs felt strong again.

Back to Chasing My Dreams

In the past year, the most valuable lesson that I have learned is to listen.   I learned how important it is to pay attention to my body, to what feels right and what doesn’t.   I listened to my professionals and followed through with their advice. If my gut told me that things still weren’t right, I went back again and again until I  found the right form of therapy.   I never gave up.  Yes, I got frustrated and, yes, sometimes I cried, but I also believed that I would eventually heal and get back to chasing my dreams.

 

 

 

 

Platelet-Rich Plasma Therapy

Warning: If you can not handle the sight of blood, you probably won’t want to read this because, yes, you will see some blood.

I really wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to the clinic for my PRP injection.   How long will it take?  Will it hurt?   How long will my recovery be?  Will this be my only injection?  And, most importantly: will it work?

The “blood-sucker” introduced herself, took me into a room and proceeded to withdraw 30 cc of blood from my arm.  “Whoa!  That’s a big syringe!” I said when I saw it, and I didn’t look at it again until after she had finished taking my blood. “Wow! That’s really purple!”  I had forgotten that blood can look purple too,

One Platelet-Rich Plasma Cocktail in the making.
My layered blood.

Dr. Bentley, then, put my blood into the centrifuge to spin it around.  It only took seconds to see the blood start to separate into its layers: red blood cells on the bottom, then white bloods cells, and the platelets on top.  After a minute, the 30 cc that I had given him had been reduced to much less. After that, I really didn’t see much more as I was getting ready for the injection.  I caught of glimpse of what I think was a very long needle (the length of a pencil) as Dr. Bentley filled a syringe with my platelets to inject into my hamstring tendon.   I lay on the table, face-down and in a quasi-prone position, trying to relax.

Dr. Bentley poked with his finger at my upper hamstring to find the location of the tear before he started using the ultrasound.  I wasn’t able to feel any discomfort at first and that made me nervous.  “What if there really isn’t a problem?” I thought, only to be followed by my verbalizing, “That’s where it is.”  Dr. Bentley started to use the ultrasound and I heard him say to his student “That’s the tear, right there.”  I suddenly felt a bit of assurance.

“Get ready for a poke,” he said and that was all I really felt.   At one point, I felt like I was in a dentist’s chair as he asked how I was doing a few times.  I was fine.  “I’m just telling myself that this isn’t going to hurt that much because my legs are so muscular – ha!”  There was no real sensation of pain; it was more of a tightening.  I later described it to Dr. Bentley as an elastic tightening around your arm until you have a constant throbbing.  He replied that the blood being injected into a tendon has no where else to go so it would create that same kind of feeling.  As we finished up, he told me that it would feel like I was sitting on a golf ball for a few days.

On the way home, I was glad that Dave drove me to my appointment.   Moving my foot from the pedal to the brake and back to the pedal would have been difficult.  We hadn’t even left Hamilton when I said to him “I feel like my leg is having a baby.”  Painful, but not terrible, and knowing that it would end with something good.

A few hours later, I was able to drive.  I took my 13 year old to referee a soccer game and I happily stood for an hour to watch.  Walking was difficult and sitting was impossible, so standing had become the position of choice.   I could tell that it was going to be for the few days but I had a feeling that it would be worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking for My Pony

Shell-shocked.  There is really no other word to describe my reaction after finally seeing the hip specialist in Hamilton.   I waited for 3 months to get to the bottom of what was going on with my hamstring – a tear at the insertion of the ischial tuberosity.  I waited another three months for a consultation with Dr. Bentley, whom I thought was going to prescribe platelet-rich plasma therapy to strengthen the tendon. I got more and more excited as the days to that appointment got closer; I felt like a 6 year old hoping to find her pony on Christmas morning.  But I left his office feeling dejected.  There was no pony waiting for me, not even a stuffed toy that could act as a substitute. Instead, I left with a piece of paper: a prescription for more physiotherapy.

During the examination, Dr. Bentley commented, “I don’t think you need an injection.  It won’t help you.  I think there is something else going on.”  Like most runners who have been off longer than they want to be and are desperate for answers and healing, I tried to pry more details out of him.  “Let’s finish the examination.   Then we can talk.”   But the words “won’t help you” kept my mind spinning.  So I am that one in ten who PRP injections aren’t suitable for?  I wasted  all of this time waiting for nothing?  Is there no hope of recovery?  Will I ever run again?

During our debrief, Dr. Bentley explained that my pelvis is not aligned properly.  I have an anterior pelvic tilt, meaning that my right hip sits forward; in doing so, the right hamstring is stretched and that, he believes, it the root of my problem.   This also explains the occasional sciatica discomfort that I get, my tight hip flexors and, most visually obvious, the right leg swing when I run.  The treatment, Dr. Bentley said, is pelvis realignment through physiotherapy, and he suggested 10 treatments would correct the problem.  “Once a week?” I asked.  “Oh no,” he said.  “You need twice a week.”  Between his words, I imagined hearing “Your pelvis is that messed up.”

“And what if this doesn’t help?” I asked.   After all, I have gone through the rounds of chiropractic care, physiotherapy  and worked with an osteopath, yet I am still considered injured.   Dr. Bentley told me to book another appointment if I felt that the treatments don’t  help.

It’s taken me almost a month to emotionally recover from his diagnosis and recommendations for treatment.  I am angry that I had to wait so long to get to the root, or what seems to be the root, of the problem.  I am frustrated that I have had to go to yet another physiotherapist, one who specializes in pelvic realignment, and explain the events of the past 9 months.   And I am confused as to why he wouldn’t want to strengthen the tendon when it is going to remain a “less than 50% tear” for the rest of my life (since tendons don’t repair), especially with osteoporosis-arthritis showing in January’s MRI.  But, as with all other wounds, time heals and we move on.

On Wednesday, I am starting my fourth week of treatments.  Some days, I leave feeling optimistic and ready to start running again; other days, I leave feeling frustrated and wonder whether this will, in fact, let me return to running.   There have been good days and bad, laughter and tears, and longing….a longing for good news, a wish for running health….and hope to find that pony with a pink ribbon around its neck.

 

 

 

Cautiously Optimistic

This week, I have taken advantage of March Break and booked a few midday appointments at Dr. Elliott’s clinic.  It is amazing how good eliminating the stress of getting to appointment before work or rushing to one at the end of the day feels.  So I have been there every day this week: for physio, for a massage and to see Dr. Elliott himself.  I think that I now deserve my own parking spot.

Better than my own parking spot, though, is the feedback that I have had this week.  On Monday, I realized that my hamstring is a lot stronger, so much stronger that we have eliminated the hamstring curl with my toe inwards, the exercise that makes me feel dorky.  Now my focus is on the glutes and building more endurance in them.

On Tuesday, on the advice of my physiotherapist and doctor, I had a massage.  It probably goes without saying that this was the last thing that I wanted to do.  But after thinking about it for weeks and realizing that a gentle rehab type massage could reduce some of the tightness and pain that I have been feeling in my lower back and legs, I decided to give it a go.
I booked one with Cliff, who also works at the clinic, as he has access to all medical files related to my injury.  I walked in nervous but left feeling a lot better, physically and mentally.  He didn’t touch the area near my Ischial Tuberosity but worked around it, as well as my legs, back, shoulders and neck.  It’s now two days later and nothing is bothering me, which is a relief. I will go back in a few weeks to try to help relax the muscles associated with my hips.

Yesterday, I met with Dr. Elliott to get some answers to my questions and squash some of the “what if’s.”  Dr. Elliott said that individuals are turned away from a PRP injection if it won’t help them, because they have already healed.   “So it doesn’t mean that my tendon won’t heal?” I asked.  It just means that it won’t make a difference in their healing.  By the time I have my injection, I should be almost healed and the injection will only strengthen the tendon.    I felt so much better after speaking with him.  All I can do now is wait.

Some days, I have found that it easy to get overwhelmed and start to panic. Staying focussed, being positive: that takes work.  But it is work that I am willing to do as I have to believe that I am almost there.   Psychologically, it is a lot easier to think about running again than about what will happen if I can’t.

 

 

Do I Laugh or Cry?

“There is value in learning to accept gracefully those things that cannot be changed.”

This were the first words that I read in my son’s psychology text on the weekend.  He had rushed off to work and left his book on the kitchen table, open to a section on anger and frustration.  Being a psych major, I couldn’t help but look at what he was studying and, somewhat appropriately, these words jumped out at me.

The past few months have been a test of my mental strength.  How much frustration and disappointment of being injured (July), re-injured (October) and learning that it was way worse than anyone originally thought (January) can I handle?  I like to think of myself as a positive person, one who looks for an upside, thinks happy thoughts and believes that “things happen for a reason.” The upside of my hamstring tear is it has given me more time at home with my 13 year old and let me watch him grow as a student, an athlete, and a person.  But I am now in my sixth month of healing, almost 3 seasons later, and while I have accepted my injury, my frustration is still there.

Good news! Or so I thought.

I had a glimmer of hope that my weeks of being side-lined are coming to an end when I finally got an appointment date for a PRP injection: April 16th @ 12:00PM DURING HIS LUNCH.  I had no idea what was meant by “during his lunch.”  Am I suppose to feel extra grateful that he is seeing me at 12:00 rather than make me wait another week or two?  Is this a underlying message that I better not be late?  Or he is so busy that he is likely to be behind and I better not dare complain because he is seeing me “during his lunch.”  Or maybe, just maybe, it is a subtle hint to bring him a coffee, a snack or even a lunch.  Well, I am grateful that he is seeing me at this time rather than have me wait for another appointment at a later date so I happily confirmed it, I won’t complain if he is behind and maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop at Tim’s to bring him a snack.  I could only laugh.

However, when I called to confirm, I learned that this is not my appointment for the injection; it is a consultation.  Since 1 in 10 people are turned away, I have to meet with the doctor first and go in later for the actual injection.  I wanted to cry.   If my injection is at the end of April, I can assume that I will be off for another 6 to 8 weeks, which means that I still won’t be running until the end of June.  And that is only if I need one PRP shot.  If I need another, it will obviously be even longer.

This whole process has been frustrating beyond belief and it is now being overshadowed but the occasional fear.  What if I am that one in ten?  What if I can’t run again.  What if?  What if?   I hate the “what if?” game.  “Stay positive.  Look for the upside,” I tell myself.

Last night after yoga, I spoke my about thoughts with Kelly-Lynne and I found the positive again.  I realized how much fitter I have become in the past 6 months.   My leg strength is coming back; I can feel it when I cycle, and I can sit for longer periods of time without being in pain.  My core is firm, I can do a lowboat again and my upper body is stronger than it has been in years.  I threw myself back into the deep end when I came out of my comfort zone and started swimming.   When all things are said and done, I feel like I am in better shape than I have been in years.  So even though I still am not running and am quite unhappy about it, I can accept the delay.  If it means that my hamstrings are going to be that much stronger and I am going to be that much healthier, then I can absolutely wait a few more weeks.

Many years ago, when making a group decision at work, we voted for acceptance.  “Can you live with it?” was the question asked.  At school, I teach my students that you don’t have to always like something, but you have to be able to accept it; my Grade 7’s understand that.  Well, I do not like this time to heal and this waiting game one little bit, but I can live with it.  I have accepted it and, one day, I hope, that will make me a better athlete.

 

When a Runner is Not a Runner

Throwback to warm weather running

The past 8 months have been a test of my commitment to running.  I have been off since that mid-July massage, intended to help my muscles, resulted in a hamstring tear that sidelined me for the rest of the summer.  Now there was probably something brewing anyway but the massage tweaked something and I could not run for the rest of the summer.  In September, I made what now seems to be a superhuman rebuild to run Chicago,  only to tear my hamstring days before the marathon.  In mid-December, I was cleared to run again by 3 medical professionals: my sport medicine doctor, my chiropractor and my physiotherapist.  Strength was good and my cardio was fine, but running just didn’t feel right; I had no power.  Sure enough, an MRI at the beginning of January showed that I had less than 50% of the hamstring, a tear that meets the Ischial Tuberosity.  I pulled myself off the road again on January 15th.

It has been another two months since that diagnosis has been made and it is going to be another 6 weeks (April 16th) until I have a PRP (platelet-rich plasma) injection.  Who knows how long my recovery after that will be?  I am guessing that it will be another two months, which will bring me to sometime in June – if I am lucky.   And if that is the case, that means that it will be almost a year since that first injury, the catalyst that sent me into this dark hole that I just can’t find my way out of, a year since I have really, truly run.

During the past two weeks, I have thought a lot about my status as a runner.  Am I?  By definition, a runner is “a person who runs” and that is something that I am not doing.  I think about running all the time; I dream about running again and chasing my dreams; I read about running, talk about running and support people who are running.  But I am not running.

When I finally got my appointment date for the PRP injection, I was thrilled.  But the waiting, the recovery time and the uncertainty of knowing whether I will actually help strengthen the tendon have turned to frustration and fear.  What if it doesn’t work?  What if I won’t be able to run again?  What if????

The what if’s are always going to be there.  But until I have answers, I have to squash them.  I need to focus on the things that I am able to do: keep up my cardio and conditioning: bike, yoga, swim, weights; be a mom, a wife, a dog-mom; coach; love my job.  It should be no surprise that every single one of these things connects me to running.

Today, I am not running.  I am an injured runner.  I am a runner not running.  But until  I am told otherwise, I will continue to dream about running and racing again and focus my fitness towards the goal of pulling on a running skirt and lacing up my shoes again.  I am defined by running and always will be.

One Day At A Time

A few weeks ago, I finally picked up a training journal.  I had just started to run again and I wanted to get back to tracking my running on pen and paper.  Five days after buying it, before I had even opened it, I was pulled from running and was told that it will probably be 3-6 months until I can run again.  Since my MRI was at the beginning of January, this week marks the end of my first month.

At my physio appointment on Friday, Tammy’s power and flexibility were good; I am feeling much stronger in general.  The only indicator that I am not ready to run is my butt aches when I sit down.  Looking back, though, I realize that it has been sore when sitting for the past two or three years, maybe longer, which indicates that my hamstring issue may have been brewing for a long time and I just didn’t recognize it as a problem; instead, I attributed my sore sitbones to a skinnier tush.

These days, I am encouraged by the almost normal feeling that I have.  “Does it really take 3 to 6 months for a hamstring to heal?” I asked my physiotherapist.  “No” was the fast reply.  “It takes 6-8 weeks.”  I laughed. “Then, by the time I have my PRP injection, I should practically be healed.”

In mid-January, Dr. Elliott submitted the referral for me to see the hip specialist but I don’t even have an appoinment yet.  “They’re probably still getting over the backlog from the holidays” was suggested as a reason, which is fine, but I really want to know when I am going to see the doctor.  Will it be a consultation with a second appointment for the actual treatment, or will it all be done at once?  How many treatments does he think I’ll need?  And what about the labrum?  Do I need to worry about surgical repairs?

As the days pass, I get more and more frustrated that I haven’t had my PRP injection, nor any kind of communication from the doctor’s office.   But I am starting to believe that I may be back on the road in the spring as my hamstring seems to healing on its own and the injection will only strengthen it.

Fingers crossed, hopeful thoughts, and dreaming of running again….Believe.

Race Report: The Eggnog Jog

Checking out the hills at the Eggnog Jog.

The Eggnog Jog may sound like a friendly race but it is on an unforgiving course.  After a quick downhill first mile, you spend the next 5-6 kilometres climbing hills until the roads flatten and you can finally cruise along a downward slope into the finish.  It’s the kind of route that leaves you thinking “never again.”

I’ve raced this  course 4 or 5 times and each time I do, I finish thinking “never again”.  Yesterday was no different.  In fact, yesterday, I realized how much the race is like delivering a baby.  Even though I always complain about how much the course hurt, the memories of that pain somehow subside, I end up registering again and the cycle repeats itself.

There are many reasons that I like the Eggnog Jog.  As much as I hate to admit it, I do like hills; I would far rather push myself up and down a hill than do speedwork running around an oval.  Also, being an early December race, unpredictable weather can also be challenging; this race tends to fall on one of the first really cold days that winter bring and, as expected, Sunday was cold.  We started to feel the chilling effects of the Alberta clipper and, in Georgetown, we also had the first snow of the season, which just happened to arrive about 20 minutes into the race, resulting in some slippery road surfaces.  Lastly, with local triathlons, duathlons, and marathons finished for 2017, this race can draw some strong competition.  Sure enough, the competition arrived.

Meet Lynn Bourque, another masters runner who is also my age.   We met years ago as competitors but have become friends, dubbing ourselves Betty and Veronica.  This fall, we both raced the Oakville 10K together, finishing 0.9 seconds apart.  At the Hamilton Road2Hope Half-marathon, we started in a downpour so we decided to work together; within the first kilometre, I watched Lynn pull ahead of me and it wasn’t long before she was out of sight.  I was excited to see her in Georgetown, but I was also nervous about potentially jostling with her for position over a few kilometres of hills.

I took the start of the race conservatively as I knew the hills were waiting near the 3K mark to test me for the next 5-6 kilometres.  During the fast downhill start, I watched many women, including Lynn, push ahead of me.  As much as I wanted to keep up, and I knew that I could for a while, I knew that the smarter thing to do was hold back so that I had more to push myself up the hills when I needed to.    By 5K, I had caught up to all of the women who had passed me at the start, and I spent the last half of the race trying to stay ahead of one.  I turned my pace up a few notches when we finally hit the flats, and it became a game of catch and release until the last two kilometres, when she pulled ahead enough to gain 27 seconds by the finish.  I was quite happy to learn later that she was 20-24, less than of half my age!

50-54 Age Group Winners!

In the end, I crossed the finish line in 50:53, which gave me an average pace of 4:43 per kilometre (remember, it is a 10.8K course), a 7th place finish on the female side and a first place 40+ finish for women.  Even though my time was about 90 seconds slower than it was two years ago, I am really happy with my result as this fall has been about running, racing and having fun.  If I can do that and still run relatively well, I’m doing something right.  This makes it easy to finish 2017 with some big hairy goals for 2018 – but I’m not ready to verbalize those just yet.

 

Welcome 2017

I’m not usually one for setting resolutions when the year changes, but I do set goals.  Then I revisit them, revise them, and chase new dreams.  In 2016, my goal was to become physically stronger as a runner.  While my race times weren’t stellar, they were good enough to earn age group awards and earn a spot to compete in the Canadian 5K Championship race.   It was a year of running based on raw talent – running without tempos, speedwork, or hill training.

Road2Hope Half Marathon, Hamilton
After the Boxing Day Ten Miler

In the past few weeks, while laying out my training plan for Boston, I’ve realized two things.  First, I am a fairly decent runner, but I’m nearing the end of my age group (50-54) so I have to do something different if I want to stay competitive.   Secondly, I am stronger than I think.  In my past two races, I really just wanted to see how I would run, hoping to finish the Road2Hope Half-Marathon (November) in under 1:40 and the Boxing Day Ten Miler (December) in less than 75 minutes.  I ran 1:37 and 74 minutes, respectively, and I felt good.  Obviously, my base is solid; it is time to change my training.

So my 2017 goal is to bump up my training and cross-training in terms of distance, intensity and frequency.  This month, my plan is to add speedwork and/hills into my running but I am absolutely terrified of doing either in the dark, especially when it’s icy.  And let’s be frank; I don’t like either of them anyway.  I’d rather just run.  But like so many other things that are good for me, speedwork and hills must be run if I am going to be in shape for Boston.  By running right after work, on the streets that surround my school, I should be able to get in a decent workout before daylight is lost.

Just hanging out at Climbers Rock.

During my marathon prep, I am also going to increase my cycling (windtrainer miles) so that I can strengthen my quads and be ready for the Boston hills.  My core is another area for me to focus on, which can easily be strengthened with consistency at the yoga studio and indoor climbing gym.

These goals are not part of a new year; they simply coincide with it as part of my plan for Boston.   They are in place to help me become better than I am and the runner that I aspire to be.

Chasing my dreams….

 

 

 

 

Following the Stars

Over the weekend, several messages about a weekend run were flying between a friend and me and, then, they stopped.  Silence.  Our run didn’t happen.  And a few hours after that run that should have happened, I got another message: “Body still isn’t working and kids are being disasters….Maybe it was just not meant to be this morning.”  To that, I replied, “Yup, sometimes you just have to wait for the stars to line up.”

That’s the message that I have had to tell myself for the past week.  This summer, I have been building mileage towards a fall marathon.  My initial goal to run Quebec City fell apart because of my son’s soccer schedule so I quickly planned other options.  I really wanted to marathon in Victoria, B.C. for several reasons.   I use to live in Vancouver, and I have been itching to go back.  The timing worked because it was over Thanksgiving Weekend so I would have an extra travel day.   Finally, one of my training partners, Kelly-Lynne, is aiming to run the half in Victoria.  All signs were pointing to the west coast.

Then, last week happened.  I had been waiting for a few weeks to hear back from my employer about whether I could take an extra day, and I needed to confirmation before the end of the month so that I could book my flight.  Well, I am still waiting and the seat sale is over.  Secondly, while my two boys really want to take an early school break, my husband isn’t thrilled about making a long distance trip (3400 kilometres, or 2200 miles) for just a few days.  Lastly, my feet are starting to hurt.  For the past few long runs (22+ kilometres), I have been getting achy feet.  Like most runners, this always happens to me during marathon training, but this time the pain is different; it’s sharper, and it lasts a lot longer.  It’s the kind of pain that makes me think that I am setting myself up for injury, and I don’t want that to happen – especially if I do decide to run Boston in the spring.   And, I certainly do not want to make the long and expensive trip to run in Victoria if I am not feeling 100 percent.

All summer, my training has been going well; it has been great.  My mileage has increased the way I wanted it to, and I’m feeling power in my legs that I haven’t had in a while.  But the stars weren’t in line for my flying to Victoria in October, and I need to follow the stars.

Did this upset me?  Yes, of course.  But there is always another marathon.  Whatever the reason, this one was just not meant to be.  noneedtospeed Meanwhile,  I’ve slowed down a little and had an easy 10 days of training to rest and think about some different goals for the fall – maybe a little track, a bit of trail racing, cross-country, some road racing, or some pot-pourri of all. And who knows?  Maybe the stars will realign themselves and I will find that other marathon.