I got a massage this week. It's been awhile since I've gotten one and my lower back and right IT band have been nagging me for weeks. I finally figured out it's my shoes—time for a new pair—and decided a massage was in order.
A colleague recommended the place I went and it was excellent. On my intake form, I always note my bilateral fasciotomies as a past injury, and it never fails that the massage therapist wants to know about it. I mean, they know so much about muscle and fascia, I understand the intrigue!
Anyway, after I finished telling her about my CECS and fasciotomies, she asked when all that was. I said, "2017" and she said, "Wow, you're almost at 10 years!"
I opened Facebook the other morning to see this memory:
How has it actually been two years since I finished physical therapy and ran my first race since my diagnosis with compartment syndrome? Like with most major life events, this both feels like too much and too little time.
It feels like just yesterday that I was getting ready for surgery, filled with despair and hope all at once. It feels like eons ago that I was testing my "new legs" and crying from sheer relief and joy over being able to run more than two miles without experiencing crippling pain.
These days, I live in a weird headspace where I think about my compartment syndrome daily, but always in passing. Sometimes I'll check in on my scars or consider my calves when they feel a bit tired on a run, but it's all become an afterthought. I rarely worry I feel symptoms coming back - that paranoia has gone.
Actually, the thing I think about most is how my legs have changed shape since surgery. My ankles are less defined because the fascia that once gave my calves and ankles clear separation has been released; one leg has a small lump where the muscle seems to "pool" and the other just seems a little more stocky than it once was.
I actually hope that starting calf-targeted exercises (which I finally feel I can do without throwing myself into a mental storm over whether I'm going to relapse) will help diminish these effects. And anyway, I'm probably the only one who notices anything different.
In short, I am still so grateful for an accurate diagnosis, a surgeon who believed me, and the ability to keep doing what I love. At this point I thought I'd be more interested in training for big races again, but I've realized that what drove me to many of my racing accomplishments was a bit of Keeping Up with the Joneses, and for now I'm just happy to do what I want to do, run when I want to run, and appreciate every moment I can get out of it.
It's been about three years since my experience with compartment syndrome began, and I am still getting messages from people who are looking for answers of their own.
I am always happy to answer questions about finding a good doctor, getting a diagnosis, my personal experience with surgery and recovery, and all those general sorts of things. I tend to direct people here because this is where I documented most of journey and, as I say on my dedicated CECS page, I always found personal anecdotes the most helpful throughout the process.
This week, I received a message that was a little different than the others. Rather than asking for advice, she was thanking me for my blog.
Her message brought home for me something I've been thinking about a lot in the last few weeks: I am at my happiest when I feel that what I'm doing - whatever I'm doing - is having an impact on people and helping them in some way. I am so glad that I was able to bring peace of mind and hope to this young woman as she moves forward with her treatment.
To be honest, I'm surprised that years later people are still reaching out. I haven't hash-tagged compartment syndrome on Instagram in awhile, but that's clearly how most people are finding me. I googled "compartment syndrome blog" and found I'm the third listed result, so I suppose there could be some backwards engineering at work here, too.
Anyway, today I'm just really thinking about how important it is for us to share our journeys, especially the hard parts, because you never know who you'll help simply by having come out victoriously on the other side.
My memory is playing tricks on me, and that's one reason I'm grateful for this blog. Although I've run some iteration of the A1A race five years in a row now, I really thought I had run the half three times before this weekend's race - twice alone and once with Elizabeth. As it turns out, this year was only the second time I've run it alone, and my third time running it total.
In 2015 I ran the half for the first time. In 2016 I ran the full, choosing it because I remembered loving the half course so much every time I ran it...which I guess was just one time. In 2017 I ran the half with Elizabeth. In 2018 I ran the 5k. And now, this past weekend, I ran the half again.
The reason this has been on my mind is because I feel like I have a strong connection to this race, but I've kind of manufactured some memories of it that aren't entirely accurate. I knew, for example, that I once ran the half with a bad cold and surprised myself with my results; I didn't realize, though, that that happened the first year I ever ran it, in 2015.
I was thinking about this because I went into this year's race with a bad cold and some doubts about how I'd feel on race day. Luckily, the worst of my symptoms began to clear up by Friday and by Sunday I was breathing easy, and finally coughing up some nasty junk.
On the Friday before the race, we drove down to Boynton to see my sister and Gordon, who just got engaged. We enjoyed a late dinner with them and spent the night there. On Saturday, we headed down to Fort Lauderdale. As usual, the plan was to meet up with Oden, whose house we'd be staying at again, then grab lunch and hit the expo.
This year I signed "I'm back, baby!"
I'm not sure what it was, but the expo felt less exciting this year. Maybe I'm a little out of practice with big races or was starting to feel nervous, but the crowds and vendors had my hackles up, and I was happy to just get my bib, do a quick tour of the booths, and get out.
I took an unscheduled nap on Oden's couch before we went out to Glitch (a video game bar) for a couple hours and then grabbed sushi for dinner. I'm really loving these video game bars; I wish we had one near us!
Playing some classic Mario Kart. We also played on the new Nintendo Switch and it was really fun!
I went to bed around 10pm feeling fairly anxiety-free and slept like the dead.
Race day dawned early. I was up at 4am and avoided checking the weather. I knew it was going to be warm and humid. There was no point in worrying about it. I still hadn't chosen my full race outfit because of the forecast, but I had options. I had my usual breakfast (GF oatmeal with PB2 and honey, plus some coffee and a glass of water with Emergen-C mixed in) and got dressed. Matt and I left Oden's at 5am for the short drive to the start.
During the drive, my anxiety built. I was suddenly so nervous I was shaking. It wasn't just anticipatory anxiety; I was terrified. I couldn't pinpoint exactly where the fear was coming from; I was sure I'd be able to finish this race, and I truly didn't have a goal beyond that. Maybe it was the knowledge that there was a lot riding on it. It was going to serve as proof that I'm fully recovered from CECS. Maybe that pressure just got into my head.
Weirdly, once we got to the corrals, I felt better. This was familiar. I used the porta-potty, took some pictures, and got right back in line to use it again. I made the rash (but smart) decision to strip off my tank top. I was already warm! I didn't want to carry it with me the entire race.
I was self-conscious about running shirtless, but I also knew no one would care and it would give me a better chance at having a successful race. Then, Matt walked with me up to the 10:00 pacing area and prepared to leave.
My #1 fan
His plan was to go back to the house before the starting gun to drop off the car; then, he and Oden would ride bikes (well, the One Wheel in Matt's case) up to miles 4/6.5/11 to wait for me. So, I stood in the corral alone and put on my music. Taliaby King Princess came on. I closed my eyes and started to focus.
Zoning in.
When I opened them, I had a feeling Matt was still nearby. I looked up, and there he was. He snapped one last picture, waved, and disappeared into the crowd.
This race is huge, so the start is pretty anti-climatic. After the gun, I walked with the rest of the crowd until we finally reached the start line, about 3 minutes later. Then, I started running.
The moment I crossed the start line and began to run, I was overcome with emotion. I immediately felt really good and steady; all my fears and doubts and overthinking stopped. I just felt wonderful. I'd been counting on this race to make me feel like the whole CECS "journey" is at an end, and I was hyperaware that the first step of this race meant I was finally, finally, in the last moments of that damn chapter of my running story. In a couple hours, two years of struggle would be behind me.
I held back tears for the entire first mile.
The spot where Matt and Oden planned to set up shop. I would pass them three times on the course if they stayed in that area.
For the first three miles, until we reached the Las Olas bridge to A1A, I felt good, but already warm. For perspective, during training I was doing my long runs at 7am in high-50s, not breaking a sweat until at least an hour in. On race day, we began at 6am in 68 degrees and I was sweating by mile two. I was glad I ditched my top and kept reminding myself to just enjoy the run and not get in my head about the weather.
Heat and humidity aren't things I can control. There was no point in worrying about them anymore.
This race has amazing views!
Around mile 3.5, I remembered it was going to get sunny eventually and that I had forgotten to put sunscreen on my tattoo. I texted Matt, knowing I was planning to see him around mile 4. Sure enough, he and Oden were there waiting when I reached our first spectating point. I grabbed Matt's sunscreen, slapped it on, dropped the bottle near a cone, and kept going.
Around mile 6.5
My pace and GPS seemed to do something wonky in the nature preserve from miles 4-6, and I think I ended up wasting some energy there I should have conserved when I focused too much on what my watch read rather than how my legs and lungs felt, because shortly after I saw Matt and Oden again, things started to feel tough. I began eating my Gu at mile 7 and knew immediately I'd picked the wrong flavor for the day. Chocolate was just too much. I kept nibbling it until about mile 9, then ditched it at a water stop and made my first critical mistake of the race.
I grabbed a cup of water.
I had completed every long run of training without water. I was really well hydrated and had taken salt before the start. I didn't need water, but wanted to rinse my mouth. I should have just popped in my second piece of gum. The minute I slowed down to take a drink, I knew getting back into a rhythm would be tough; the mental seal was broken.
I took a second cup to pour over my head. At this point the sun was well up, but we were mostly in shade from buildings along the road. It was around mile 10 that those buildings clear because you're running along the beach again, and that was when things really got hot.
Between miles 10 and 13 I took a few short walk breaks and had some more water. I stole some ice from an open bag at one of the stops. I never felt bad about walking; again, I didn't have a real goal in mind. I saw the 2:15 pacer pass me but she stayed within view, so I had an idea that even if my GPS had gotten screwy in the nature preserve, I was still setting a good overall pace. My lower legs felt a little stiff in a very this is tough work why are we doing this kind of way, but not in a we are rocks that can't be run through and you're having a recurrence of compartment syndrome way.
My goal for this race was to run with joy and finish with a smile on my face. I admit there were times on the course that I lost the joy, but that's part of racing, I think. It's hard in the final miles of a tough race to keep gratitude at the forefront of your mind.
I saw Matt and Oden once more at mile 11ish and then watched them zoom by toward the finish line to meet me there. I kept plugging away. I admit I wasn't enjoying myself at this point. I was hot and achey and ready to be done. I remember thinking that I had zero interest in running a full marathon anytime soon. I had forgotten how tough long distance races can be!
Around mile 11
Finally, I entered the last turn to the finish line. I tried to urge my legs to pick up the pace, but I was totally depleted. The finish line has two arches, one at mile 12.9 and then the final one at 13.1.
As I came up on the final arch, I spotted Matt and Oden, and then saw Steph waving next to them. I found the smile I'd been looking for. I thought about the vascular surgeon who told me I should just find another sport. I sneered at him in my head. Never run again my ass I thought, and managed one final push.
Coming toward the finish
My time was 2:17:31. I had been on track for a PR in the first half of the course, but couldn't maintain that performance through the latter half. Still, I set a personal course record and ran with joy, and that's what I wanted from this race.
I was honestly too exhausted to feel many emotions right there at the finish. I was in a weird tunnel-vision headspace, and the bigger picture of the finish's significance had faded away to be replaced by my more immediate needs: to get water and sit down.
Soon after finding my wonderful cheer squad and taking pictures, things started to set in. I relived the highlights of the race in my head. I remembered the emotion at the start line. I felt the joy come back.
Honestly the prettiest medal I have, I think!
Best sister ever!
I have the BEST cheer squad! I do not take it for granted that they get up early every year to make this race special for me!
After a shower, we ended our celebration with brunch at our usual post-A1A spot.
Blueberry pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns...just what I wanted!
I am ready now to take some time to rest and be patient in deciding on my next running goal. Right now, it feels good to not have a whole batch of races lined up for spring. I want to bask in this moment and take my time deciding what comes next.
I'll finish this post by thanking everyone who has been following my training and cheering me on the last few months. It's been a long road, and I couldn't have done it alone. I love the running community!
ABK
Well, it's here. February. Race month. I am feeling...anxious.
In November and December, I felt confident. I was logging the miles and executing my long runs without fail. My paces were great. My legs felt great. Everything was great!
January was tough. I started to hit the wall. Training started to feel a little stale. My legs started to feel a little heavy. My energy started to feel a lot depleted.
But. It could've been worse.
Highs: Getting another 10-miler in and breaking out of my funk to finish the last week of the month on an upswing.
Lows: All those missed runs, whether from post-travel exhaustion or sheer burnout/laziness.
Planned miles: 79
Actual miles: 54
Looking at these totals, I see that my total mileage isn't so far off from previous months, which eases my anxiety a little, although it's pretty embarrassing how short I fell from my original plan. But the main thing here is that, even having fallen short, I'll be ready for this race.
This training cycle has both felt long and also like it's totally flown by. I know now that my excitement to train again led to some major over-planning and unrealistic expectations. For my first cycle back to long distance, I can't be too disappointed.
And now...February is IT. The chance for me to truly finish training the best I possibly can. The chance for me to truly feel like I'm back to being the runner I was. It will mark a full year of recovery and rebuilding. If I think too much about it, I might explode. So instead, I plan to put my blinders on and finish. this. thing.
This is the first time I've run double-digits since February 2017, and it's my first 10-miler of half marathon training.
On my training plan, I didn't schedule 10 miles until late January, but Saturday morning I just felt like today is the day. I had 7 miles on my schedule, but knowing that I will likely miss my next long run due to holiday plans, it seemed like this was a good time to take a risk and push myself.
I honestly wasn't sure how the run would go. So far I've gone up to 8 miles in training and felt fantastic the entire time. When I drove to the start of my run, I realized I really didn't want to run the route I had planned. I got back in the car and drove to a different spot, so I started the run about 20 minutes late, but the weather was perfect for a late start, so it was okay.
Mid-50s and cloudy! Perfection!
At mile 6.5 I began to eat a cherry lime Gu, and kind of ate it in nibbles until mile 8.5 or so. I never felt starving, but the Gu definitely helped keep my energy up for the end of the run.
Around mile 7 I started to feel bored and ready to be done - clearly I'm out of practice with running alone for long periods of time. At mile 8 I started in on the positive self-talk; I didn't want to take a walk break, but my hips and lungs were started to ache. I just kept repeating C'mon girl, you've got this in you. You're gonna run 10 miles! Nice and steady! It was like I was urging on a horse.
Except I didn't fall off at the end.
At mile 9, I knew no matter what I'd succeed. My brain kind of turned off and I just sailed through the last mile.
Anyway, at the end I was too tired and relieved to feel much excitement over the accomplishment, but after a shower and breakfast, the pride set in. How surreal and wonderful, to know I'm running long distances again! To know I did Saturday's run at a steady sub-10 pace and didn't take any walk breaks! To feel as strong as I do right now!
Mile 4 is an outlier because I was exploring a new area, so I think I slowed down a bit to keep my bearings, and then I texted Matt to let him know my ETA.
I feel lucky that we are finally getting an actual winter in Florida this year, because it's making training much easier.
This run also makes last week the highest mileage training week I've had so far, because I ran two 5-milers, too. Although I've planned for four runs a week, I've pretty much scrapped my Thursday runs, which has allowed my legs to recover better for my long runs on Saturdays. I've always run best when I stick to three weekly runs and add a fourth only when it will really benefit me.
With all the housework we've been doing lately (painting, culling, reorganizing) and school events, it makes sense to skip Thursdays most weeks. I'm adding a bit more mileage to the other two weekday runs, and that's been going well, too. I am trying to keep all my runs at a minimum of 5 miles as long as my legs recover nicely from my long runs.
So that's it for plan adjustments! So far, so good. We'll see how things go as we get into the new year. A1A is just about 8 weeks away!
This time last year, you performed bilateral fasciotomies on my lower legs to relieve my chronic exertional compartment syndrome. Before coming to you, I saw two doctors. The first seemed clueless and unmotivated to solve the medical mystery of the tightness and pain my calves. The second told me to give up on running, telling me that women always regret the scars from corrective surgery.
Words cannot express the gratitude I have for you and your team. It meant so much to me that you listened when I explained my symptoms, that you were eager to treat me, and that your vision for my longterm recovery was the same as my own. You never tried to talk me out of surgery. You never suggested that my passion for my sport mattered less to me than few cosmetic abnormalities would. Your goal to was help me run again.
These days, I am running again. The fact that I am seeing my old paces and distances just one year post-surgery is astounding, especially because I spent such a long time sidelined before I met you.
I am not a competitive runner. Maybe that's why other doctors weren't pressed to get me on my feet. But I use running to manage my anxiety and depression. Running is the only form of exercise I have ever enjoyed, so it is the only one that I have stuck with. When I can't run, my mental and emotional health suffers.
There were times last year when I thought I'd never run again. That was devastating. When I say you gave me my life back when you treated my legs, I really mean it. I cannot thank you enough.
Today's post is just a quick update for the end of August and how it compared to July.
July: 26 miles
In July, I was still running 2-3 miles more frequently than I aimed for 3-4. My dedication took a hit from traveling and then going back to work. I was pleased that I got a few runs in while on vacation, though. I tend to slack while traveling.
Toward the end of August, I planned to add in weekend runs, but I got sick the last week of the month. I managed to still get my three weekday runs in, but I didn't see a benefit in pushing myself to run while battling the back-to-school crud, so I took the last weekend off. I also upped my weekday runs from 2-3 miles to 3-4, which made a big difference.
August: 48 miles
I nearly doubled my total miles between July and August, which is mind-boggling and incredibly motivating. August is by far my highest-mileage month in ages, and I felt good the entire month, without any aches, pains, or tightness.
I am tentatively planning to lengthen my weekday runs by a half mile or so until my base is 5 miles instead of 4. Despite the humidity and work-exhaustion, my runs have all felt really good and almost easy, so it's time to do a little more.
I am officially one year post-op on my right leg. Even though the process of diagnosis, surgery, and recovery felt long, in the grand scheme of things, I am pretty much back to where I usually am at this time of year and I feel great. I am grateful, amazed, and complaint-free.
Last week, I felt like I finally hit the next "step" of recovery. From December 2017 (when I started running again) to June, I really just enjoyed running again, without any guidelines or expectations. Since June, I've mentally been in a weird kind of in-between phase, where I'm enjoying the freedom of running however and whenever I want, but also wanting to see progress. I've been in this stage since around June, but I think I'm finally moving on.
Over the last two weeks, I've set a couple modest goals. For one thing, I finally upped my minimum run distance to 4 miles. Four miles is my happy distance, but it's been too easy to cut runs short when it's super hot and humid out. I'm not giving myself that out anymore. When I plan to go for a run, I plan for four and I do four. This has given me a little bit of structure and increased my weekly mileage.
Can you guess which week was the first week back at school?
The other mini-goal I've set in the last two weeks is to run Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. So far, I've been able to stick to that, and I've even been able to motivate myself to go when the weather is gross and Elizabeth isn't joining me.
My next step is to finally start adding weekend runs. I've been so exhausted from going back to work that the last thing I want to do on weekends is break a sweat.
So, on that note, it looks like I'm running a race on Saturday. I'm not really prepared for it, but I plan to run it for fun and to kickstart a desire to train for something...or at least add that elusive weekend run to my plans.
It feels nice to have a little more structure and to be out of limbo, and to be getting there naturally. I was afraid I'd have to force it, but it seems like, as usual, the recovery process has its own timeline. I am starting to feel back to my old self, and that gives me hope for the future of running, racing, and the longterm running goals I kept my sights on to give me hope last year during my diagnosis and surgeries.
Because honestly? For awhile, I was a little afraid those goals would be dust in the wind, but now I'm seeing that there will come a time when I finally feel ready to go for them. I just have to keep being patient and keep trusting the process.
Thursday evening I hit a little milestone post-surgery: I completed my third 4-mile run of the week, bringing my miles to 12 before I even reached the weekend. It's my longest mileage week of recovery!
But that's not why I want to analyze this run. I want to remember how it felt.
I ran the first two miles with Elizabeth, who is about 23 weeks pregnant, and the last two alone. For the first mile, we stuck together. We kept a very easy pace of about 9:51. I felt like my body had shifted into its perfect gear; I could have kept at that pace forever and never needed a rest.
We took a brief walk break at a mile and took a photo, then ran the second mile nice and easy. Including the walk at the beginning, our average pace was 10:21, which is much closer to the pace we tend to run together these days. Little Pudge is getting to be a burden for Elizabeth.
At the two mile mark, Elizabeth dropped back as planned and I continued on my own. We agreed that I would just finish my run without looping back to check on her at all, and she'd meet me at the end.
My third mile and fourth miles were fast. There were times I saw 9:10 or faster on my watch. I took a brief walk at the end of mile 3, more because I wanted to than that I needed it, and by the end of mile 4 I was so desperate to finish strong that I was scared to slow down for fear I'd end up walking again. I finished the last quarter mile at a sprint, running sub-9.
It was like my legs had a mind of their own. They felt amazing and strong. It was humid and gross out, and my breathing was ragged, but it's been worse.
I felt like I was transcending something.
And I had to stop and think after this run, because lately I've been so sure that summer has sapped me of all my speed and strength, and back-to-school stress has sapped me of my motivation and energy. But tonight I saw that everything is still there. It's just been resting a bit as I acclimate.
I've been slow lately because of the combination of summer, work, and having a pregnant running buddy, and pace has been one major factor in my reluctance to build distance right now. In fact, I spent some of our run tonight lamenting over my disinterest in running a half marathon anytime soon and yet not wanting to miss the opportunity this winter - I don't want to wait another year to run a half!
I ran this route three times this week, and felt stronger and faster each time.
By the time I finished this run, I realized that maybe I am ready to build distance after all, because I felt it all fall into place again.
As Elizabeth and I adjust our plans to fit both our needs as her pregnancy continues, I'll have the opportunity to build my own schedule and work in long runs. The only thing holding me back is myself. The good news is that I think they're finally starting to really fall away.
I actually ran four times in the last seven days! That means I've hit another post-surgery milestone - the highest weekly mileage I've seen in over a year!
Sunday, Elizabeth and I ran an easy 2.5 miles around the golf course. I was thinking about how nice it felt to have a quality running week under my belt. Summertime is always weird for running schedules - I'm rarely training for anything and I can't keep track of the days of the week, so my consistency suffers. This past week, I tried to fix that by running every-other-day, and that really seemed to work.
Anyway, as we finished the run and I was basking in my accomplishment, I began to wonder if it's time for me to start running with more purpose. Obviously I know my body is ready for it, and I'm actually surprised how soon it feels that way.
I couldn't resist.
I know it's been a long time since surgery and even longer since I had to stop running entirely due to my calves, but in the grand scheme of things, I've bounced back really quickly.
Part of me is loving the freedom of running when I feel like it without any prescribed runs. I'm not craving speedwork or consistent long runs or anything like that. I feel much like I did when I very first started running, when every run was a victory and I didn't need bells and whistles (or goals) to make running worth it.
Still just overjoyed to be out there.
Another part of me is frustrated with this sort of plateau I've let myself settle on. I know I can be ratcheting up the intensity of my runs and building in some bridges, speed work, and long runs. I have a desire to get back to where I was before compartment syndrome interrupted my life. I want to eventually exceed where I was. That means I can't let myself just do whatever for the foreseeable future.
Can I?
I wrote awhile ago about starting long runs again this summer, and that's still something I want to do, but it also doesn't feel urgent. I have been building mileage, but I haven't been moved to run a consistent long run each week.
I have gotten up to 5 miles, though, and that feels long to me!
Basically I am stuck in two states of mind right now. I think the disconnect stems from the season. I really don't like training during summertime - there are too many interruptions, the weather stinks, and my sleeping schedule is all over the place. Maybe that's the bottomline, then, and the solution:
I am excited to have something to train for and to have a more structured running schedule...in the fall.
