Recovery and Exposition

Yesterday's six hour run turned into a 6:28 run because I thought I could negative split, which I am usually able to do. Apparently I should have paid closer attention to just how long one particular descent was. It nearly killed me on the way back. I seriously had a moment where my heart rate spiked, and I felt funny in the head. It scared me, but I knew, somehow, with certainty, that I just needed to sit down and breathe. After some meditative breathing techniques, and just a couple of minutes, everything felt normal. On the next steep climb, I had to take a couple minutes again. After the last climb, I decided to sit for a couple more minutes. Phew!

The day after, I feel great, relatively speaking. I have some inflammation in both ankles, but it is not as bad as it has been in the past after shorter runs. My form is improving as my body gets stronger. My legs are sore, but again, nothing beyond what I have experienced in the past. I am pleased with the results. Admittedly, at a few points yesterday, I questioned my sanity, wondered why I thought running an ultra marathon was such a good idea. I mean, I have never even run a marathon. And I only ran 22 miles yesterday. Yes, I know, so freakin' slow. But, you know, climbing mountains (literally climbing at times), single-track, technical terrain. Of course, an elite trail runner could have covered that distance in half the time.

Still, it feels good to have finally come this far. A little over a year ago, after I completed the Conquer the Cove 25k in Roanoke, I could hardly walk for days. In fact, my right foot, on top just below the middle three toes, remained dreadfully swollen for weeks. I thought nothing of it; well, I thought little of it. I just needed to rest a week and slowly start back into running. That is what I did, ignoring the lingering pain, but even more troubling, the swelling continued. What happened?

I had trouble deciding on shoes to wear during the 25k. I had turned into a heavy advocate for barefoot and minimalist shoes. I was trying to decide between my thick, cushy Altras, which I had purchased to assist in my recovery of the severely inflamed tendon (see earlier posts) and my Merrell Trail Gloves, the most comfortable shoes I had ever owned and run in. Well, the Altras I had purchased were not trail shoes, so I decided on the Trail Gloves, very minimalist, more accurately barefoot, shoes. For about 11-12 miles of the race, I felt great. I knew I had made the right decision. My feet and legs felt great. Then the trail made a dramatic plunge for two to three miles, and it was rocky, littered with exposed tree roots, and steep in many places. My feet took a pounding. Immediately after the race, things didn't feel right. The next day, things felt even worse. I still don't know what happened to my foot. My best guess is that I had fractured it or had done major soft tissue damage (I also stubbed my toes, hard, multiple times), but I pressed on, looking ahead to the next race, a trail half marathon in September. I had wanted to run a 40 miler that day (same course as the half marathon), but I at least decided I couldn't be ready in time with the way my recovery from the 25k began.

I had new trail shoes for the half marathon, and my feet did feel better after that race. I felt like I was in the clear. The next week, I ran 10 easy miles on a flat course, and the next day, my foot hurt more than after the previous week's race. I decided to shut it down. My ultra dreams once gain put on hold for an injury. What made it so frustrating was that I had just spent so long recovering from the other injury. The funny part of this entire process through to today? My right foot is still "injured." But that exposition is yet to come.

The Evolution Leaps Forward (Hopefully)

Sleep. That is what I think about the most in my life, probably. This week has not been terrible, relatively speaking. The three Things that usually like to wake up at five a.m. have chosen to wake up between 6:15 and 6:30 this week. While this development excited me, it could not last. Often, the night before the night before a big run or race is the most important opportunity to get sleep because nerves can often play talk sleep for a long run and leave one wide-eyed. Of course, last night, I mistakenly stayed up a little too late, and Thing 3 decides to revert to his five a.m. rising regimen. Does he not care about his daddy's sleep?

Well, that is what caffeine is for, and I have plenty of it for tomorrow morning, which will come for me at three a.m. I have never run for six hours. I took a hike one time when I was eighteen or nineteen, and the ascent took well over three hours. The descent (after an hour or two of rest) was much faster, but still, a total of over five hours of hiking. The difference? I may have covered six or seven miles, but I did weigh over 400 pounds. Tomorrow's run will cross into the 20+ mile range, depending on how I feel. It sounds slow (and it really is), but don't forget that I am running single-track mountain trails. I lot of unforgiving climbs and joint pounding descents. It does more than take one's breath away; it sucks your soul.

Today, I planned to spend as much time off my feet as possible. I did well for most of the day, but the inevitability of duties to home and family made the last few hours leg-fatiguing. I hope that what sleep I do get tonight remedies that.

Tomorrow is a big test, and if all goes well, it will represent an evolutionary leap for my running. The problem is, no matter how I feel during and after the run tomorrow, the real test comes in the days following. How well will I recover? I will just wait for evolution to run its course.

In Medias Res

Cross training today. Over an hour on the bicycle, and some hills nearly halted me several times. Wow, I am out of bicycling shape. Of course, I am also very tired. When you have three little boys, who like to wake up around five a.m. everyday, sleep turns into a rare commodity, especially recuperative sleep. I mean, I have been biking consistently for last few months.

The real question that I am sure many of you are asking (I flatter myself that people actually read this blog) is, "Where have you been?" There is really no easy answer to that question, but I will answer quickly, taking the time to explain over the next string of blog posts (I am not sure how many that will be). The simple answer is that I have been injured. The complicated explanation is far more in depth. I'll just say this for now, that 25k in Roanoke I referred to in my previous blog post? It destroyed my right foot. More on that later. The good news? After a long, slow recovery, and a lot of patience, I am registered for my first ultra marathon, a 50k on 8 August. As for training? I have had my ups and downs. The big test is a six hour run this coming weekend. Yes, I said six hours. How does one prepare for such a thing? Well, it starts with sleep. Good night!