Week three of the road to the Super Bowl has begun. The World Series is just around the corner. Who cares? Sunday morning is the Berlin Marathon and I am psyched.
One of the greatest match-ups of all time is almost here: Eliud Kipchoge vs.
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
|Two forward, one back|
Feeling suitably inspired after the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon, I decided to take a few easy days. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday ended up racking 14 miles. Then my juices kicked in. A 9 mile run was followed by 7 which was followed by 15. Ended up accidentally being a 50 mile week.
The next week was designed to be a completely easy week, less than 40 miles. It was, by the way, executed to perfection. Then while the last week of August saw huge progress with my knee, some discomfort returned in my glute. That nagging piriformis thing seemed to be back. Not cool. My butt had, once again, become a pain in the butt.
Last summer I lost both the San Francisco Marathon and the Squamish 50K (and roughly $450) to the butt injury. When at its peak, the pain feels like a bone on bone stabbing along with some pretty major IT band radiating. Not cool at all. And, it was back.
|No caption needed|
Race Day!?!?!?!? Blah! I could not even move after the ride to the Fort (sitting makes piriformis WAY WORSE). I had an hour to loosen up and for the life of me, it was not happening. I finally got to where I could lightly shuffle jog just before the gun. I decided to get in my wave and maybe give it a go.
BANG! The gun goes off. Within seconds everyone in the BB wave is gone. I, on the other hand, am gimping along looking for anywhere to stretch. Then the next wave ran by. Then the next and the next and the next. Eventually I crossed the mile mark in just under 17 minutes. SEVENTEEN MINUTES????? Holy crap, we all WALK faster than that!
Amazingly, however, I finally loosened up. The second mile was an uncomfortable 10:38,
Every mile of the course had these timing strips across the road. Every strip was within feet of the mile marker. Except the 6th. The 6th was placed about twenty yards past. So after flying through the 6 mile marker, I decided to adjust my phone (which was in the back pocket of my shorts) and BAM, down I go.
Immediately several young gentlemen come to my aid attempting to hoist me from the depths of concrete despair and back into the race (as if we were on the way to a PR or something). Slow down fellas! I can handle this. Anyway, slightly bleeding and a little embarrassed, I finished the task.
SO, bad butt: Strike one. Falling: Strike Two. Well Strike Three was around the three mile mark when I was forced, for the first time EVER in a race, to make a porta potty pit stop. Enough said.
The next two days of recovery runs were miserable and when combined with a lot of driving to get to classes in Basalt, my butt catapulted into an incredibly worsened state. THAT was when I decided I've had enough. It was see Dr. Carly time. Several dry needles later, I was no better. SO, five days off. Boo.
The upside is that I have an appointment with a Dr. next week and hope to get to the "bottom" of this. Upside number two is that I loosened up enough to run this morning. 7 miles and that run has kept me fairly loose for the day. I hope, as I am 7 1/2 weeks out from the New York Marathon, that I am on the road to recovery. If for no other reason than being tired of wasting big bucks on races I don't run.