It's Nothing Serious, Unless You're A Marathoner

Good news: Fundraising minimum met

I have met my minimum fundraising goal. Thank you to everyone who has donated to date. Now, I hope to raise another $1000 by 10/4/00. Please spread the word.

Sad news: Training takes a nose dive

Soon after my triumphantly-toned last blog, my training began to take a steady decline. Then, it took a nose dive.

Post-vacay fatigue

I first noticed the steady decline after 4 nights in Vegas. I ran 2 days while on vacation, which I’d love to say is equal to running 2 marathons, considering the will power it takes to hit the pavement in Vegas while the rest of the crew is lounging on the manmade beach or making runs to Fat Tuesdays, but in reality, those two days of running were nullified by the constant butter-laced-food-eating, sun bathing, and fruity, slushy, alcoholic-beverage-slurping that took place at all other hours of the trip.

Upon my return home, after days of sabotaging my body, I set out on my longest run ever. Mike rode his bike alongside me—he knew I wouldn’t make it far if left to run alone.

Motivator Mike and I took to the beautiful, straight, and flat East Lake Sammamish Trail. I ran almost 8 miles at a good pace, and felt decent. Then I turned back for the second half of the run. Shortly thereafter, for the first time in my marathon-training experience, I believe I experienced fatigue. Throughout the rest of the run, my body was heavy, my muscles vapor. My bones were hollow, and my lungs full of wet sand. I stopped countless times for water, and even walked at intervals. It was an intense 15.5 miles.

In case anyone is mistaking this for badassness, please know that it was really just embarrassing.

Joint funkyness

And the following days’ recovery was slow. My joints, especially my right knee, felt unusable. I had noticed some joint funkyness in my right knee for a couple of weeks prior—so much that I had asked a coach to assess my shoes, who determined that it was time for replacements. I expected the new kicks to bring some relief to my knee, but they didn’t. However, the aching was dull and I dismissed it as normal.

A week later, on Labor Day weekend, I set out to tackle the beautiful, straight, and flat East Lake Sammamish Trail once more. This time I was rested, hydrated, fit, and determined. And after resting my knee the day before, the joint funkyness was at its dullest that week.

I geared up with my new shoes, hydration belt, a fully-loaded mp3 player in my new armband, and 5 Gu packets for electrolyte replacement on the go. (The hydration belt, mp3 player, and Gu would be the topic of this blog, if not for its much more serious point, which I promise to broach shortly. Perhaps a supplemental blog on these fun gear items is in order.) I was accompanied by my sister-in-law, Super NewMom and Super Half-Marathoner Shannon.

The run was a success, except that during the last two miles of the 16.5 mile day, the funkyness in my right knee turned stubborn, stiff, impossible. And the muscles in my upper and lower leg, beginning from the outside of my knee and working away toward my ankle and hip, were cramping and giving out randomly. My leg muscles seemed to be pulling my kneecap apart and like there was nothing left to support my weight over my shin and femur. I felt like my shin was going to shoot straight up into my femur.

I iced, rubbed, and ibuprofened as soon as I made it home. The next day, on Sunday, I did my usual 30-minute jog. Mike joined me. It was pouring rain and a surprising blast. The knee pain was present, but the cramping and giving-out was not. I rested Monday. On Tuesday I ran with Jordan and Sarah-Jane. I took them on one of my favorite hill loops. I felt strong for the first half. Then I went nuts on the downhill, reaching a top speed of 6.25-minute miles, and felt the pain return. It was abrupt and strong. My knee seemed to respond by threatening to give out every step after.

The loop ended with just a few stairs. I held my breath, expecting to collapse with each step up. Something was seriously wrong.

In denial, I set out on a run the following day. I made it two blocks. Then reality exposed itself. The coming Saturday’s run was to be the longest before race day, 180 minutes (18-ish miles) and would be crucial to my training. I knew at once that if I did not rest my knee for the next 3 days, starting that moment, I would not be able to perform at my best that weekend. And if I did not do well on the longest run before the race, how would I do at the race?

I saw a knee doctor as soon as I could.

Friday. The day before the 180-minute run. I lie down on the table with my legs stretched straight out. The doctor places his hands, one crisscrossed over the other, like he’s about to perform CPR on my leg, on top of my left kneecap. He leans his weight into my knee and I feel my leg buckle a bit more into the table below me. Then, while maintaining the pressure on my knee, he asks me to flex my quad so that my kneecap raises and wiggles.

‘Good,’ he says.

He does the same to my right kneecap. I flex my quad. I can’t tell you whether my kneecap raised or wiggled. All I felt was a burning, cracking, hole-digging pain shooting through my knee. I bent my knee in defense. I flinched and winced, letting out a choking gasp as I grab at the pain.

‘Uh huh,’ he said. As if he’d been expecting my reaction.

I have a common knee problem—it’s nothing serious, unless you’re a marathoner. Until two weeks ago, I thought I was a marathoner. Would I now ever be one?

The diagnosis

I have patellofemoral pain syndrome (PFPS), or ‘Runner’s Knee.’ The following is what I understand, and partly have imagined, it to mean to have PFPS. I hope all the knee experts reading can forgive any misinformation I am about to convey.

Essentially, I have over-worked my running muscles and under-worked my non-running muscles, which has lead to the uneven pulling of my kneecap by the running v non-running muscles. My kneecap is in a tug of war between the running and non-running muscles, and in what is supposed to be a completely even match, the running muscles are winning out.

With this uneven pulling, my kneecap is subject to mistracking. Now, instead of gliding smoothly between the two knobs in my femur, my kneecap is being drug over them. As the underbelly of my kneecap scrapes over either femur knob, the cartilage under the kneecap becomes rough.

Scraping is bad. Rough stuff scraping is worse.

All of this pulling and scraping and roughing is creating a stressful—and painful—environment for my knee. My knee has responded by telling the muscles around it to stop. Hence the giving-out. The result of PFPS is that I am in terrible pain and that my right leg does not want to run any more.

Now that I’ve finally reached the reason for today’s blog, you may have some questions:

Will I be able to run the marathon?

• I don’t know yet
  

When will I know if I can run the marathon?

• Probably not until the week of
  
  

Can you continue to run until then?

• No. Absolutely no running for the time being
  
  

How do you keep up with training if you can’t run?

• I get my cardio the old-fashioned way—on a stationary bike or an elliptical machine—and I may brave the Speedo and try some aerobic dog-paddling

• I strength train, focusing special attention on the non-running muscles
  
  

How will you get better?

• By resting my knee—this means no impact (no running)

• With physical therapy:
  

o To build the non-running muscles so that they can level the playing field in Kneecap Tug-O-War, and hopefully get my kneecap back in its femur groove track

o To stretch the running muscles so that they start to release some of their grip on my kneecap

o Possibly with a brace or some taping to give the kneecap some guidance

What happens to the money you raised for LLS?

• LLS still gets it

• I’m not positive yet, because I’ve been too afraid to tell them about my PFPS (yes, I’m still in denial), but I’ve heard that I can transfer it to running another TNT marathon
  
  

How are you feeling?

• Disappointed, but no less determined

• Thankful that my insurance covers unlimited physical therapy

• A little puffy, without the almost-daily 500-calorie-burning workouts

I will keep you posted on my progress. In the meantime, I need your support now more than ever. Please keep me in your prayers and my blog on your computers over the next two weeks. Check in and wish me well often. Every email, wall post, phone call, and high five takes me one step closer to race day.