Down Again

I won't bore you with the details, but I will tell you that I'm injured, again.  And it still sucks. And I'm still learning to embrace that suck, but I'm not doing so well in this department. The embrace eludes me yet the suck is in my face and greets me every morning with an insidious grimace. 

And not running still feels lethargic and thick and dull.  And I'm still a big baby when it comes to not running. And I want to run. And it hurts so, not running. Not running, says an old friend, is the continual presence of absence. I say it is the absence of presence, but what does it matter? It aches either way.

I lied.  

I will bore you with the details because it is part of my self-diagnosed therapy, that and staring out the window marvelling at the beautiful bodies that gracefully dance in and out of view. Truly my heart skips a beat as a runner approaches - they look amazing with red cheeks and eyes sparkling and skin glowing. 

it aches 

as they fade 

from view 

in plumes 

of exhaust

like steam trains  

they round 

the rail 

from view

gone

The power of running is magnetic and it pulls hard from the sidelines.  

Okay, enough of that woe is me stuff...

I haven't run in 9 days and 2 hours.

I lied.

I ran today to test the waters. It didn't go so well. The left calf seized again at mile one and I limped home at an agonizingly slow pace.  Stretching aggravates it more so I type this blog seeking more therapy.

Nine days and two hours ago I ran home from work - 11 miles. It was a gorgeous run and all was wonderful in body, in mind and in spirit... I'm humming along, top of my game, thinking, breathing, happy when suddenly ... at mile 10... I zigged a little to avoid a taxi cab backing out of a driveway.  It was hardly a sudden move, but it was enough to tweak the left calf, just briefly enough to open the door, just a tiny crack, just wide enough for that unwelcome guest to latch on to the left soleous.  Wow, it latches on hard and so fast and without warning! 

Having been down this road a few times I know the drill... massage, physio, rest... lots and lots of rest.  Yuck, rest. 

My physiotherapist analyzed my shoe.  First the tread where she found nothing unusual. Then, upon close examination, she noticed wear on the inner side of the left shoe (click 'em big).

My Aisics 2140's 

Look a little closer

And closer yet...

There you go, see it now?

I'm not sure what to make of this pattern.  I checked my old running shoes dating back several years and sure enough, same pattern, same wear, in the same place. Clearly my left foot swings inward and rubs against my right inner shoe.  My right shoe has a similar scar but not as distinctly as my left.  I don't feel my left shoe making contact with my right shoe, but heck, it must be happening. The evidence is clear as day!

Could this be my problem?  Is this why my left calf pops once or more a year?  What can I do about it?  

Sorry for lying... sorry for bothering you with the messy details of my running issues.

It really is a good day to be alive.  My left calf is a minor nuisance, insignificant in the bigger realm. It's frustrating and it steals some joy, but it's also teaches me patience and reminds me that I am alive. I will embrace that suck because the embrace makes me stronger.

It's a good day to be alive.

You be well, all of you.

Mike

I'm Going Under

And if Venice is sinking
I'm going under
'Cause beauty's religion
And its Christened me with wonder
Spirit of the West, And if Venice is Sinking, Faithlift

The legs are strong, the heart pumps, and the calf is behaving like a good calf should.  My goal is to make it to the Fargo Marathon start line on May 19... the rest is in the tea leaves, unknown but hopeful.  I run lonely miles through concrete trails with purpose and devotion to my heart and bones. I am hyper-alert for tweaks and twinges, antecedents for injury.  None come but I remain vigilant.  


Jennifer asks why I am driven so?   She wants to write a guest blog entitled I Hate Pasta. We laugh a comfortable laugh.  We don't understand the whys of what we do, but we accept our difference and we value the diversity in our relationship.  In a card she suggests I haven't yet found what I'm looking for and that's why I run. Maybe she's right, maybe it's about the searching.

I don't have words to describe the joy, the  painful beauty of crossing a line in the sand, and then running beyond that line. It just is.

If Venice is sinking I'm going under.  It's the beauty of the moment and the passion for human perfection that drives me forward... 'cause beauty's religion'.  The need to be all that I am, to look back and fear not that I have given it my all.  I hurt and I get injured along the way.  I make friends and they slip away so I run .. I run to mask the hurt... I run away...I run towards. I run because it makes me feel wonderful in heart and mind. 


Not the superficial wonderful, but the wonderful of life force, the wonderful of a sip of water, the wonderful of running over the white line, the wonderful of a mother's adulation, a father's attention.  


Like the raft, if Venice is sinking I'm going under.

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

Wrapped in Hope and Patience

i see skies of blue

clouds of white

bright blessed days

dark sacred nights

and I think to myself

what a wonderful world

Louis Armstrong, What a Wonderful World, What a Wonderful World

Church, St. Francois Xavier, Manitoba

I managed a ride to St. Francois Xavier the other day.  It was a blustery day with the winds blowing hard on my side for much of the way.  Crossing the perimeter bridge off Roblin Boulevard I was up high and completely exposed to  intense gusts.  I pulled in behind a couple of riders and watched their bodies listing port as the wind blew from the right side.  They were leaning a dangerous 50 degrees from plumb and riding slow motion hard into the wall of swirling winds. A rider came fast from behind, suddenly, brilliantly, then was gone from sight... a strong rider with calves thick and hard, a young rider with speed on his mind. 

We are vulnerable to the elements, the wind and the sun.  Airborne dust and sand in the face, breathing evenly, focussed on cadence, concentrating on staying upright and in the saddle.  Buttocks aching, calves pumping, bike tuned to perfection.  What a wonderful moment, what a wonderful world.

The church is my sanctuary. I have visited it often, never entering, always reverent and respectful. I sit on the steps, quietly with water and snack. It welcomes me like a warm blanket, wrapping me in hope and patience.The tombstones are well kept and old... old like the town, old like the church, old like we will become. I am struck with the perfect whiteness of the clouds, the wind swept tree, the Franz Marc blue of the sky, and I think of bright blessed days.

The return was into the wind.  At times I was crawling with teeth clenched and back bent over the frame. It was a hard ride, a real slog measured in inches. I slowed my mind to match my cadence and I drifted into the searing wind. Time slowed and with it came a peace that matched the wind in its intensity.  The gear ratio was down low, granny gear, and it felt wonderful.  

My legs pumping, calves smooth and pain free, breathing evenly.  Thoughts swirled through my mind like the dust vortex by my side.  Good thoughts, sad thoughts, swept away with the north wind. Gone and forgotten.  

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

Embracing the Suck (continued)

... so you dance to the rhythm
bounce to the rhythm
shake to the rhythm
and you roll to the rhythm
sweat to the rhythm
get wet to the rhythm
make love to the rhythm
clean up to the rhythm
when you movin'
you come alive
and when ya grooving in rhythm we survive
so don't panic, don't panic ....
Michael Franti & Spearhead, Hello, Bonjour, Yell Fire

Caution... this is another woeful 'runner-down' diatribe so you might want to click on to a more cheerful blog... after first listening to Hello, Bonjour, of course.
Last Sunday I popped the left calf at mile 17.65 of an 18 mile run. I felt a twinge at mile 6 so I stopped to stretch a few times. By mile 14 or so a pea size ball formed about mid-calf and tightened like a wound up spring. The tightness ramped up until each step became a charlie-horse jab to the calf. I tried that ridiculous half run, half hop, half walk form -you do the math- but even that became unbearable so I limped in the last several blocks. Licking my ego, I made an effort to join others for coffee, but that was short lived, I needed some time alone to think this through.  I slipped out the back entrance like a shadow and drove home. 
On a bright side, I ran the full distance with Irene and that was good; the cheerful chatter whittles away the miles and takes the mind off bum-calfs.
Caution... insert odd streams of consciousness here... 
While driving to Minneapolis last week I saw a HUGE sign on an exit ramp, really huge, it can be seen from Mars, right next to the Great Wall of China and the Chicago Marathon start line: Gas, Food, Liquor. I thought... 'man, the only thing missing is ammo' ... gas, food, liquor, and ammo... an epitaph for red neck minimalism. 
Caution... return to pathetic runner-down diatribe...
I'm presently on full rest for two weeks (but I think it'll be more like three... Ive been down this road before).  I'm on a physio schedule which includes ultra-sound and acupuncture. A massage schedule that includes some pretty excruciating work right at ground zero (she called it unpleasant.. I had a more colourful word rolling through my cerebellum).  I've been told that cycling is ok, but even that felt kind of risky so I resisted the urge for a ride today.  At this present moment it's stiff, not painful, but full bore stiff.  Yesterday I had unsettling little spasms running down my lower leg just below ground zero. Fargo Marathon is still on the horizon, but I'll have to rethink my strategy... remember, my first goal is to make it to the start line.
Caution... my man-allergies always act up when I view this video, hope you have better luck...

Caution... return to sad story (as if the above video wasn't sad enough!)...
My plan B was to ditch Fargo if the calf wasn't healed fully and run Manitoba on June 17, a full month later.  I went to bed smiling at my brilliant planning.  When I mentioned my brillance to Jennifer the next morning over coffee she reminded me that we're attending a wedding on June 17 and unless I can recover by 5 PM she advised against it.. she did agree, grudgingly, that I am brilliant.. just maybe lost a little shine with aging.  My unreasonable side says... stupid day for a wedding!  So, plan C....
Caution... plan c...
Run Manitoba full on June 17, recover, attend wedding.
So friends ... damaged, hurt, wounded, sad, anxious, worried... be patient, don't panic, don't panic, and dance to the rhythm.  In the end, it's all we can do.
It is a good day to be alive, even though it sucks.
:>/ Mike
PS... See Gwen. See Gwen run. Run Gwen run... and never, ever stop.

For Sale

Lightly used for 8 days while recuperating from grade 2 strain to left ankle. Features include: light, high-grade aluminum, adjustable to 5'2" to 5'10",  ultra-cool rubberized pit cuffs with matching hand grips, adjustable arm length,  grippy rubber thingies for firm footing, Mercedes-silver in colour, stylish design.  Guaranteed sympathy magnet. Perfect for the runner-dad on your list that (thinks) he has everything!  Paid $30.  


Let's start the bidding at $1.00. 


Stay tuned for next week's Sale; "Too Sexy" Ankle Aircast.

Also thinking of starting new blog and I've been tossing around a few names; See Mike Knit, See Mike Scrapbook, See Mike Collect Stamps, See Mike Sit,  see Mike Commiserate....  


All in all, it's a minor setback, but I do so get a deep pang whenever I see a runner. It's amazing how difficult it is to not run.  I was telling a friend the other day that I've gained 2 or 3 pounds and it feels like 20 or 30.  The force of running is strong.  Crazy!


Mike


... yes, yes, yes, it's a good day to be alive... but I wish I was running.

The View From Here

When I first blogged about "embracing the suck" I had images of sweat, road dirt, nausea, yucky gels and all the other fun stuff we endure on the marathon path. Turns out embracing the suck is a tricky little devil and has multiple meanings. Who would have figured that it can also mean eating chocolate on my deck while watching the river flow, with a warm sun and cooling breeze? Weird that!

The verdict is a grade 2 strain (there's 3, I asked) on my left ankle. Cast and sticks for two weeks. Fargo Marathon is definitely out and Manitoba Marathon is a long shot. The Spruce Woods 50 k in August is looking mighty sweet though.

Nuff of "woe is me". As my good running pal Jan says, it's like a bad country and western tune, best sung drunk, loud, and off key. It's fun for a while but then you wake up with a hangover.

Moving forward.

Not trying to get all spiritual on you but I did receive this quote in a tweet that sorta left me speechless. The timing is all too amazing.

God (my editorial input: Buddha, Allah, Yahweh, Great Spirit, Creator) grant me the serenity to accept when I cannot run, the courage to run when I can, and the wisdom to understand the difference.

Wow! Puts my little mishap in perspective. "The wisdom to understand the difference". Now that's pure poetry.

To my Fargo Homeies, it has been such an honour and pleasure to run by your side. We ran through some of the toughest elements and yet we did so with grace and fortitude. Running with you through such conditions strengthened my character and brought me such indescribable pleasure. So often I would groan at the thought of another late evening run, desperately wanting to bail. And then, 5 minutes into the run, my life brightened, the chit chat and the laughs abounded. I became drunk in the happiness of just being. Just running along your side. Thank you.

Thank you for your company.

Thank you for your time.

Thank you for the gossip.

Thank your for the many, many, many laughs.

Thank you for the positive comments.

Thank you for your leadership.

Thank you for lifting my spirits.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for laughing.

Thank you for trusting me to lead.

Thank you for telling me when to follow.

Thank you for your comments on SMR.

Thank you for the emails (so many today).

Thank you for running at 6 AM through dark streets.

Thank you for your respect.

Thank you for the talks about life, God, and politics.

Thank you for the talks about Homer Simpson, American Idle, and teenaged heart-throbs.

Thank you for making snow angels.

Thank you.

In gratitude I give you my mantra. At mile 18, or 20, or 22, or whenever you need it most. When your shoulders are slouched, when you feel like puking, when your legs are lead, when your brain fogs, when you lose sight of the finish line, when your spirits flickers say aloud "embrace the suck". Say it again and again. Louder. Say it to the poor slob running next to you who's dying. Yell it at the sun. Whisper it to your calves. Rap it. Rock it. Twang it. Use the suck to your advantage. Learn to laugh at the suck. Use the suck to dance across the line. Dance across the line.

Dance one for me. Make it a slow dance.

Now friends, run like the wind, while you can.

It IS a good day to be alive.

Mike

Down

I joined my group of Fargo-heads for a 5 mile race-pace run this evening. We were running in tight formation as we approached an intersection. Some in the group stopped and others slowed. I lost my focus momentarily and rolled over on my left ankle. This was followed immediately by a searing bolt of pain. I grabbed Karen's shoulders for balance. The pain was level 7 on my pain threshold. The group stopped, frozen. They knew. I waved them on, but they didn't budge. I finally pointed and said "go, the light's going to change". They left reluctantly.

I walked the 1.5 miles back to my car. Tried a slow run, but that was foolish. The ankle was swelling up pretty big. By the time I got to my car it was triple normal size and the pain was intensifying.

I'm at home now, licking my wounds, and icing. I'm thinking the icing is more effective than the licking. The swelling has come down somewhat, but I can't walk. Not sure where to go from here. Fargo Marathon is 3 days hence. Stay tuned.

It's a disappointing day, but in context, it's still a good day to be alive.

Mike

Homesick; A Guest Blog

Thanks to Mike for the invitation to write as a guest at this outstanding blog. My topic is injury, and injured runners are like hurtin’ country western singers - hard to listen to. So double thanks.

I’ve been running for 12 years, moderate distance, extreme devotion. I ran ‘the loop’ in our neighborhood, usually the same direction, always the same four days of the week. My running habit began in response to a cheesy article that claimed 20 minutes of daily walking would change my life. Right they were; walking led quickly to running, and - you know what I’m going to say - running changed my life.

Running became a home of sorts, the kind where the phone doesn’t ring, where you can indulge in that strange kind of non-thinking thinking, hear your breathing, feel the elements (lots of these in wpg), sort out your crushes, lose time, gossip to yourself. I ran to celebrate, to mourn, to dissolve the perplexities of the day. I ran through the loneliest and most disappointing stretches of my dissertation. Mostly I just ran to run.

This past Fall I began running with my neighbor, Thursday mornings, 6 a.m., before work. Blizzards, minus 40, ice, unploughed streets and the darkest urban darkness never stopped us. Falling under the influence of his passion for distance running, I began to increase my miles and registered for the Cops half marathon at the start of May. He kindly wrote out a training schedule for me and I knew I was incredibly lucky. My craving to run kept increasing in direct proportion to the accumulating miles. It was a long exhilarating winter; so many new routes, conversations, tunes, stories.

Injury comes to runners in different ways, and mine showed up like a polite but uninvited guest, lingering quietly, awkwardly, at the start of an 11-mile group run. While I was watching the shin pain on my right leg, my left hamstring developed an uninteresting, ‘level one’ strain (coward). I observed a restless two-day rest, then took off for a determined tempo run, full of “now moments” – those riveting seconds of pain or pleasure that don’t allow for outside distraction. Tried another two-day rest. My very last run took me to the Forks but my car had to take me back. That was early April, just as we were heading into the euphoria of single-layer running weather.

The athletic therapist told me what I wanted to hear, “2 – 3 weeks tops,” but speaking like a pregnant woman, I’m in my fifth week. Of not-running. As I intensify my search for signs of improvement, the hamstring situation seems to worsen. No walking beyond 5 minutes. Cycling to and from work is painful.

Not-running is living with the continual presence of absence. I keep turning towards something that is no longer there. I fine-tune my eating and upper body routines, but I cannot go where I need to go, where I dream of going, where I used to go, which is, home.

Courage, fellow runners! Run well… rest well.

Jan

zero for three

Hey kids, guess what?

I did it again!

I went out for a 6 mile solo jaunt on Saturday morning to burn off some pre-race jitters. At mile 2 my calf, the same one, kacked out. I had about 20 seconds warning that something was amiss; sort of like hearing a tick-tick in the motor and then ... what the?!... engine seizes!  By the time I figured it out, wham, it was too late... a familiar pain seared up the calf. Although not as serious as my previous calf injury, it's enough to sideline me for the slow dance on Sunday. The pain was about a 6 on 10 while my last blow out came in at 9 or 10 on the pain rector scale.  Recovery time is unknown.

Am I disappointed?

Yes, hugely.

My goal was to run three marathons this year, Fargo, Manitoba, and Toronto. So far I'm batting zero for three. In the grand scheme of things it's not all that big a deal. I still have my health and my remarkable Robert Redford good looks (hey work with me here... I'm still in denial). I'll just have to focus on Toronto.

Good luck to all who are running the full or half mary this weekend. Run like the wind. Run for Ted. Run for someone or something, but run. Embrace the pain. Cry. Laugh. Dance across the finish. Smile. Be proud. Run as an affirmation of life.  Run because it's a good day to be alive.

I'll be at mile 14 (just past Laura Secord School) cheering like mad. I'll also have a camera so look pretty.

Now go and get 'er done!

Mike