And the MRI results are in...
Let's do the good news first - no structural damage. No meniscal problems, no ligament issues, no major swelling or inflammation. Whew! Now for the bad news - what the MRI showed was consistent with ITBFS, which is what we've been treating all along and what should have been better by now. Damn... It... All... To... Hell... So, it was back to Rich for another cortisone injection and strict instructions to rest my knee as much as is humanly possible. Easier said than done! Yesterday morning was horrendous. Usually the pain doesn't start until afternoon/evening time, after I've been walking around on it all day, but yesterday it was hurting right from when I got up. I saw Dolph after walking to and from uni already that morning, and he said my leg was as bad (tightness and knotted-muscle wise) as the first time he saw me after I did the injury. Wonderful. Talk about being back to square one!
Having to walk to and from uni across the Goodwill Bridge most days with a 10-15kg backpack doesn't exactly fall into the "rest my knee as much as is humanly possible" category, but there's no way around it. I did consider hiring a couple of sherpas, one to carry me and one to carry my backpack, but I think that's a little outside my budget currently. Seeing as that's not an option, Dolph has got me altering my walking style instead because he thinks how I walk is what's irritating the ITB. So, I now have to stick my butt out more and try to land my foot as close underneath my body as possible, rather than my usual "flick the leg out in front" motion. Sounds simple? Not quite. My body isn't particularly happy with me trying to change what its been doing quite comfortably for the past 25 or so years, but hey, if it works I'm not going to complain.
And it does seem to be working. My knee felt okay after walking back from uni yesterday, where usually I would be practically dragging my leg behind me in an effort not to have to bend it. As pessimistic as it sounds, despite this temporary success I'm trying not to get my hopes too high. Right now it feels like I'm never going to be able to run again. I guess we just have to play the waiting game some more.
Awww, the waiting game sucks! Let's play Hungry Hungry Hippos! (--kudos to anyone that gets that reference ;)
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Saluting the fantastic plastic...
Thank goodness for credit cards is all I have to say! While the MRI wasn't as expensive as I was dreading, $200 is still a lot for a full-time student trying to scrape by on the pittance the fitness industry pays for my 25hours a week work. When Rich (the sports physician) rings me with the results I'll know whether it was worth the cost or not, but hopefully it will at least give us a bit of an idea of what the problem is. Whatever it is, its not simply ITBS.
One of my regular gym clients confirmed that for me yesterday. I had been talking to him about my knee, not knowing that he's actually an orthopedic surgeon specialising in knee surgery (apparently he drives a Mercedes with the license plate "KNEE", I think that sums up the situation quite well), and he offered to have a look at it for me. After putting my knee through its paces, he said my ITB was a little tight but not that bad, and my range of motion was all normal. Manipulation tests were normal as well, so the good news there was he said whatever the problem is, he doesn't think its something that will require surgery. Whew! Meniscal or ligament tears are looking pretty unlikely, thankfully, so its looking like possibly tendonitis at the hamstring insertion, popliteal tendon or something along those lines. We'll know more when I talk to Rich about the MRI.
The MRI itself was something of a surreal and rather bizarre experience. Having to lie completely motionless inside a tube for 20-30minutes listening to the sounds the machine was making gave me plenty of opportunity to watch the thoughts bouncing around my head. The sounds were very Star-Trek-ish, with interesting rhythmical sub-sounds that kind of reminded me of some sort of electronic tribal dance. They were actually quite soothing, and had I not been so tense with the effort to remain motionless I might even have started snoring (despite it being 9:30am at the time). Hey, gimme a break, there hasn't exactly been a lot of sleep happening lately!
Well, nothing to do now but wait. Oh joy. We all know just how good I am at that! (and anyone that doesn't know... I'm being facetious).
One of my regular gym clients confirmed that for me yesterday. I had been talking to him about my knee, not knowing that he's actually an orthopedic surgeon specialising in knee surgery (apparently he drives a Mercedes with the license plate "KNEE", I think that sums up the situation quite well), and he offered to have a look at it for me. After putting my knee through its paces, he said my ITB was a little tight but not that bad, and my range of motion was all normal. Manipulation tests were normal as well, so the good news there was he said whatever the problem is, he doesn't think its something that will require surgery. Whew! Meniscal or ligament tears are looking pretty unlikely, thankfully, so its looking like possibly tendonitis at the hamstring insertion, popliteal tendon or something along those lines. We'll know more when I talk to Rich about the MRI.
The MRI itself was something of a surreal and rather bizarre experience. Having to lie completely motionless inside a tube for 20-30minutes listening to the sounds the machine was making gave me plenty of opportunity to watch the thoughts bouncing around my head. The sounds were very Star-Trek-ish, with interesting rhythmical sub-sounds that kind of reminded me of some sort of electronic tribal dance. They were actually quite soothing, and had I not been so tense with the effort to remain motionless I might even have started snoring (despite it being 9:30am at the time). Hey, gimme a break, there hasn't exactly been a lot of sleep happening lately!
Well, nothing to do now but wait. Oh joy. We all know just how good I am at that! (and anyone that doesn't know... I'm being facetious).
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Perhaps you've guessed...
... But the lack of posting after my "allowed walks" should perhaps have clued you all in to the fact that no, they didn't go well. In fact, the Monday after was like being back to day one, where landing slightly off-centre on my right leg would stop me in my tracks by sending electric spasms of pain from my knee. Bending my right knee as I walked was too painful so I developed an interesting Quasimodo-style hobble (come on, you try walking with a straight leg and see how sexy you can make it look!) Watching me walk down a flight of stairs? You might as well pull up a chair and grab a coffee, its going to take a while.
The physio is obviously somewhat concerned as according to him the pain really should have settled by now and I should have been back to some low-intensity running. So, it seems that there might be something other than ITBS going on. He's sending me back to the sports physician next week, and suggested that perhaps an MRI is in order. Great. So in addition to the pain in my knee, I'll be developing some pain in the hip-pocket area. Y'know, the type caused by having to shell out hundreds of dollars you don't really have, being a full-time student and all. Perhaps someone wants to buy one of my kidneys? I do have two after all, I'm sure I can do without one.
All for a good cause I suppose. No running means no stress relief for me, so its all slowly building up. The next person that gets up my nose is in for a serious shock, namely that a 5'3", 52kg female has a punch like a freight train when its fuelled by frustration, rage and masses of unrelieved stress. The fact that I had to miss the Bridge to Brisbane this year, and listen to my housemates chattering excitedly about the event, certainly didn't help the situation. I'm not much of a crier as a general rule, but there was a few sniffles that day.
Hey, I've got an idea... Instead of selling my spare kidney to finance an MRI, I'll just swap it for a working knee! Any takers?
The physio is obviously somewhat concerned as according to him the pain really should have settled by now and I should have been back to some low-intensity running. So, it seems that there might be something other than ITBS going on. He's sending me back to the sports physician next week, and suggested that perhaps an MRI is in order. Great. So in addition to the pain in my knee, I'll be developing some pain in the hip-pocket area. Y'know, the type caused by having to shell out hundreds of dollars you don't really have, being a full-time student and all. Perhaps someone wants to buy one of my kidneys? I do have two after all, I'm sure I can do without one.
All for a good cause I suppose. No running means no stress relief for me, so its all slowly building up. The next person that gets up my nose is in for a serious shock, namely that a 5'3", 52kg female has a punch like a freight train when its fuelled by frustration, rage and masses of unrelieved stress. The fact that I had to miss the Bridge to Brisbane this year, and listen to my housemates chattering excitedly about the event, certainly didn't help the situation. I'm not much of a crier as a general rule, but there was a few sniffles that day.
Hey, I've got an idea... Instead of selling my spare kidney to finance an MRI, I'll just swap it for a working knee! Any takers?
Friday, July 27, 2007
The definition of frustration...
"A deep chronic sense or state of insecurity and dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs"
Thankyou Dictionary.com, I couldn't have said it better myself. Well, perhaps I would have used stronger words than "insecurity" or "dissatisfaction"... Maybe something along the lines of "A deep and chronic desire to scream incoherently, tear one's hair out and lay waste to whatever people and/or objects are within the immediate vicinity, arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs". Yes, that sums it up nicely. I would be jumping up and down with said frustration if it didn't hurt my knee so much. Even five minutes on the physio's exercise bike was enough to flare it up badly a week or two ago. But, it is getting much better now, so I should probably stop whining and complaining and get on to the good news.
About a week and a half ago, I had a cortisone injection in my knee. It is certainly not an experience I wish to repeat in the near future. Or the distant future, come to think of it. Try and imagine the sensation of someone stabbing a knife into the nerve that runs down your leg, sending shooting pains from your knee right down to the bones in your toes. Sounds lovely doesn't it? Not that the doctor was sticking a needle into my nerve or anything, it just felt that way. Plus, I was one of the lucky 10% the doctor warned me about that will have a period of 24-48hrs where the pain gets worse before it gets better. Anyone that has experienced the joys of a "steroid flare" will know exactly what I'm talking about. Hooray! I spent that night with the very bones of my leg aching and my knee protesting every movement. Oh wait, more whining... I was supposed to be getting on to the good news wasn't I?
Well, I spoke to my phsyio today, and he's letting me off the leash for two 1-hour walks over the weekend. Well, the second walk is going to be dependent on how my knee feels after the first one, but I'm going to do the mental equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing "La la la" and pretend that its going to feel fantastic. No chance whatsoever that it might be sore, its going to be strong and pain-free. Positive thinking and all that. Of course, I'd much rather be running, but as someone that hasn't been able to do any exercise for the past four weeks the idea of even walking has me in throes of joyous rapture. Yes, before anyone suggests it I know I could have been swimming, but have you felt the temperature out there lately? Snowflake's chance in hell of me getting into a pool!
Anyway, hopefully my next entry will be much less depressing and may even have a report of me jumping up and down with the joy of feeling good after my walk. Fingers crossed everyone!
Thankyou Dictionary.com, I couldn't have said it better myself. Well, perhaps I would have used stronger words than "insecurity" or "dissatisfaction"... Maybe something along the lines of "A deep and chronic desire to scream incoherently, tear one's hair out and lay waste to whatever people and/or objects are within the immediate vicinity, arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs". Yes, that sums it up nicely. I would be jumping up and down with said frustration if it didn't hurt my knee so much. Even five minutes on the physio's exercise bike was enough to flare it up badly a week or two ago. But, it is getting much better now, so I should probably stop whining and complaining and get on to the good news.
About a week and a half ago, I had a cortisone injection in my knee. It is certainly not an experience I wish to repeat in the near future. Or the distant future, come to think of it. Try and imagine the sensation of someone stabbing a knife into the nerve that runs down your leg, sending shooting pains from your knee right down to the bones in your toes. Sounds lovely doesn't it? Not that the doctor was sticking a needle into my nerve or anything, it just felt that way. Plus, I was one of the lucky 10% the doctor warned me about that will have a period of 24-48hrs where the pain gets worse before it gets better. Anyone that has experienced the joys of a "steroid flare" will know exactly what I'm talking about. Hooray! I spent that night with the very bones of my leg aching and my knee protesting every movement. Oh wait, more whining... I was supposed to be getting on to the good news wasn't I?
Well, I spoke to my phsyio today, and he's letting me off the leash for two 1-hour walks over the weekend. Well, the second walk is going to be dependent on how my knee feels after the first one, but I'm going to do the mental equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing "La la la" and pretend that its going to feel fantastic. No chance whatsoever that it might be sore, its going to be strong and pain-free. Positive thinking and all that. Of course, I'd much rather be running, but as someone that hasn't been able to do any exercise for the past four weeks the idea of even walking has me in throes of joyous rapture. Yes, before anyone suggests it I know I could have been swimming, but have you felt the temperature out there lately? Snowflake's chance in hell of me getting into a pool!
Anyway, hopefully my next entry will be much less depressing and may even have a report of me jumping up and down with the joy of feeling good after my walk. Fingers crossed everyone!
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Excuse me, fat sloth coming through!
Which is basically how I feel at the moment. Its amazing how much you appreciate something once you can't do it anymore! While at one time I would have enjoyed the break from running, its become apparent just how much I'd started to enjoy it in the past six months or so. Running used to be a chore, something I did to keep my weight under control and my fitness up, but now its a staple part of my life. A staple part that has been forcibly removed, leaving me feeling like someone has chopped my legs out from under me (no pun intended). The physio did mention the possibility of running next week, so I shall wait for that moment with bated breath.
Speaking of the physio, he's been great. Aside from the whole "elbow in the glute" thing anyway. In fact, I'm really not a fan of any of the rather painful releases he does on various protesting muscles in my legs, but it feels better afterwards and that's what's important. He cracks me up actually, because he's not like my last physio that would apologise gently yet profusely with a worried expression on his face whenever he did something painful. Oh no, this physio laughs. Digging his thumb into my ITB and seeing me wince, he's most likely to laugh out loud and say "Ooh, that one hurts doesn't it?". Yes, damnit! But strangely enough, the laughter isn't offensive but is actually quite comforting.
My ITB is still inflamed but at least I have movement in my knee again, even though I'm still walking like a complete gumby. Ice, Voltaren tablets, and more ice is about all I can do until the inflammation settles down, and then we can get to work on figuring out exactly what causes the problem. An out-and-back course on cambered roads was one of the biggest issues apparently, which I can definitely understand as 95% of my training is on flat pathways rather than roads. I think its going to come down to poor lateral stability and bad running mechanics as well. Oh well, that bridge will be crossed when we get to it. In the meantime I need to find some exercise I can do that doesn't involve my legs. Either that, or I'm going to have to stop eating! I've gained a kg or two already, yeesh.
A massive thankyou to everyone for their well-wishes and positive comments after the race. I have to admit to being rather depressed about the whole situation, and you all really helped to brighten my outlook and put everything in perspective. Thanks again :)
Speaking of the physio, he's been great. Aside from the whole "elbow in the glute" thing anyway. In fact, I'm really not a fan of any of the rather painful releases he does on various protesting muscles in my legs, but it feels better afterwards and that's what's important. He cracks me up actually, because he's not like my last physio that would apologise gently yet profusely with a worried expression on his face whenever he did something painful. Oh no, this physio laughs. Digging his thumb into my ITB and seeing me wince, he's most likely to laugh out loud and say "Ooh, that one hurts doesn't it?". Yes, damnit! But strangely enough, the laughter isn't offensive but is actually quite comforting.
My ITB is still inflamed but at least I have movement in my knee again, even though I'm still walking like a complete gumby. Ice, Voltaren tablets, and more ice is about all I can do until the inflammation settles down, and then we can get to work on figuring out exactly what causes the problem. An out-and-back course on cambered roads was one of the biggest issues apparently, which I can definitely understand as 95% of my training is on flat pathways rather than roads. I think its going to come down to poor lateral stability and bad running mechanics as well. Oh well, that bridge will be crossed when we get to it. In the meantime I need to find some exercise I can do that doesn't involve my legs. Either that, or I'm going to have to stop eating! I've gained a kg or two already, yeesh.
A massive thankyou to everyone for their well-wishes and positive comments after the race. I have to admit to being rather depressed about the whole situation, and you all really helped to brighten my outlook and put everything in perspective. Thanks again :)
Monday, July 2, 2007
Race Report - Gold Coast Half-Marathon
21.1km - 2:03:05
I had two cohorts for this race, Lawrie and Philby, and we all headed down the coast lunchtime on Saturday to make the most of a relaxing pre-race day, have a good dinner, and hit our hotel beds early for a 4:30am wake-up.
There is much to be said about carbo-loading before a race, and I think I went slightly overboard. We went to Sak's at Marina Mirage, a restaurant that I was overjoyed to find as having a gluten-free menu complete with bread and more options than you could poke a stick at. A far cry from most other places that offer gluten-free as something of an afterthought, and don't exactly put much effort into it. The dinner was amazing, I stuffed myself with enough bread and pasta to fuel myself through at least three half-marathons. Then it was back to the hotel for what should have been an early night.
The night before the race was spent, like my fellow room-occupant Philby, tossing and turning and trying to curse my brain into shut-down mode. It wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, so both of us ended up ready to run a half-marathon on about 2 hours sleep. Oh joy. A coffee in the room, followed by a caramel double-shot long black at the race precinct was enough to drive the last shreds of tiredness from me though, and excitement really started to set in. A bit of a debacle at the toilet queue (people, if you're not running in the race, don't hold up the queue in front of half-marathoners that have only five minutes until their start time!) had us dashing to the start line with only a few minutes to spare.
I had planned to run with the 2hour pace group, so was frantically scanning the crowd for the black balloons that would signify their position. Not a chance. By that time, everyone was so packed in to the start area that we were lucky to squeeze in at all. Turns out we were actually far ahead of the 2hour pacers in the pack, and it was probably the best thing that could have happened.
The gun went off, the crowd began to move, and we started the usual start-line shuffle until there was enough space to break into a run. I saw the 1:40 pacer balloons ahead of me, and realised at that point the 2:00 pacer must be behind. I didn't exactly fancy standing and waiting for them to catch me, so I figured I would just run my own pace and if they caught up to me, just continue running with them.
By the 3km marker they hadn't caught me, and my GPS told me I was averaging 5:30/km. The wrist-band I had gotten for the 2hour pace group said I needed to average 5:41/km to hit the 2:00 goal, so I was definitely ahead of them. The wrist-band also had the 5km, 10km and 15km split times I should be aiming for, and when I hit the 5km marker I saw I was still about a minute ahead of schedule. And I felt good!
In fact, I was cruising. Don't get me wrong, it was hard. But I felt like I could keep it up, and that was the important point. The 6km, 7km and 8km markers breezed by, I was concentrating on just keeping a good pace and not getting caught up with the runners that were passing me. From the 9km marker I was excited to realise I was going to do my fastest 10km time ever, and I was still ahead of the 2:00 pacer.
Not long before the turnaround point I heard Philby call my name and gave her a wave. She had taken off like a shot at the beginning and was now on the return part of the race, and running fantastically well. From the turnaround point myself I was still feeling great, especially knowing that I was more than halfway through. From the turnaround I was watching for Lawrie, and gave him a yell and a wave when I saw him looking like he was struggling along somewhat. I started to tire a little from about 13km, and I was getting really quite worried that I had gone out too hard and wasn't going to be able to keep my pace up for the last section. I was still maintaining 5:30-5:40/km, but it was getting harder. I needn't have worried, it wasn't going to be tiredness that was going to stop me in my tracks.
Just before the 16km marker, my right knee stopped working. No pain at first, it just refused to bend. Perturbed, I stopped, gave it a bit of a stretch, and tried to take off again. I got three steps before the pain forced me to stop again. The outside of my right knee was in complete agony any time I tried to run. It faded as I walked a few steps, so I took off again, and this time just gritted my teeth and ran through the pain. It dulled a little within a hundred metres, and I figured out that stopping and starting was a lot more painful than just continuing, so that's what I did. My pace slowed to 6:00/km and I was hobbling along, but I was still moving. I seriously considered talking to a race marshall and just giving up, but my stubborn side reasserted itself. i had trained too long and hard for this to stop now.
The 2:00 pace group caught me up at about the 17km mark. I managed to hobble along with them for about a kilometre, but they were just going too fast for me at that point, and as I watched the black balloons fade away into the distance ahead of me I couldn't help the tears that started sneaking out. I have never been in so much pain in my life, and I still had a bit over 3km to go.
The graph shows my pace for each kilometre along the run. Can you spot the point where my knee gave up? And then were I tried to keep up with the 2:00 pacer? Technology is a wonderful thing.
My breathing was pretty ragged that last couple of kilometres, not because my fitness wasn't up to it, but because its hard to sob and run at the same time. I kept waiting for the 2:10 pace group to overtake me as well, but thankfully I wasn't going quite that slow. Reaching the CoolRunner cheersquad felt like the highlight of my life at that point, especially when SarahV took off and ran along the sidelines with me for the last section. It was the boost I needed to get me through to the finish line, which I staggered over with a net time of 2:03:05.
I should be happy with my time. After all, my original goal time was 2:15:00, and I absolutely smashed that. But I'm not happy. Not now that I know I could have done under 2:00 if it weren't for my knee giving up on me. At the finish line, the tears were as much from disappointment as from the pain.
A lovely race marshall lady saw me bawling like a baby coming out of the finish chute, gave me a hug and escorted me to the physio tent. Their diagnosis? Acute ITB (iliotibial band) inflammation, brought on by the repetitive friction of the band over bone. Its going to be incredibly painful for a couple of days, then it should be okay as long as I get some physio and sort out whatever biomechanical problem brought it on in the first place. Wonderful.
After they released me from the tent I caught up with Philby (1:50!) and Lawrie (2:30), gave Sarah a cheer in her 10k, dashed back to the hotel slightly late for our check-out, and headed off to find some food. A coffee and a cooked breakfast later I was feeling much better, despite walking like a complete gumby and having to let Philby drive my car back to Brisbane. I had people texting me, asking how I went, and I just didn't have the heart or the energy to have to tell my story. I just wanted to get home, curl up and have a bit of a cry. They could wait until morning.
The morning after my whole body feels a bit like someone has taken to it with a baseball bat and my knee still screams in protest when I bend it, but hey, I'm still alive. As for the half-marathon, well... There's always next year :).
I had two cohorts for this race, Lawrie and Philby, and we all headed down the coast lunchtime on Saturday to make the most of a relaxing pre-race day, have a good dinner, and hit our hotel beds early for a 4:30am wake-up.
There is much to be said about carbo-loading before a race, and I think I went slightly overboard. We went to Sak's at Marina Mirage, a restaurant that I was overjoyed to find as having a gluten-free menu complete with bread and more options than you could poke a stick at. A far cry from most other places that offer gluten-free as something of an afterthought, and don't exactly put much effort into it. The dinner was amazing, I stuffed myself with enough bread and pasta to fuel myself through at least three half-marathons. Then it was back to the hotel for what should have been an early night.
The night before the race was spent, like my fellow room-occupant Philby, tossing and turning and trying to curse my brain into shut-down mode. It wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, so both of us ended up ready to run a half-marathon on about 2 hours sleep. Oh joy. A coffee in the room, followed by a caramel double-shot long black at the race precinct was enough to drive the last shreds of tiredness from me though, and excitement really started to set in. A bit of a debacle at the toilet queue (people, if you're not running in the race, don't hold up the queue in front of half-marathoners that have only five minutes until their start time!) had us dashing to the start line with only a few minutes to spare.
I had planned to run with the 2hour pace group, so was frantically scanning the crowd for the black balloons that would signify their position. Not a chance. By that time, everyone was so packed in to the start area that we were lucky to squeeze in at all. Turns out we were actually far ahead of the 2hour pacers in the pack, and it was probably the best thing that could have happened.
The gun went off, the crowd began to move, and we started the usual start-line shuffle until there was enough space to break into a run. I saw the 1:40 pacer balloons ahead of me, and realised at that point the 2:00 pacer must be behind. I didn't exactly fancy standing and waiting for them to catch me, so I figured I would just run my own pace and if they caught up to me, just continue running with them.
By the 3km marker they hadn't caught me, and my GPS told me I was averaging 5:30/km. The wrist-band I had gotten for the 2hour pace group said I needed to average 5:41/km to hit the 2:00 goal, so I was definitely ahead of them. The wrist-band also had the 5km, 10km and 15km split times I should be aiming for, and when I hit the 5km marker I saw I was still about a minute ahead of schedule. And I felt good!
In fact, I was cruising. Don't get me wrong, it was hard. But I felt like I could keep it up, and that was the important point. The 6km, 7km and 8km markers breezed by, I was concentrating on just keeping a good pace and not getting caught up with the runners that were passing me. From the 9km marker I was excited to realise I was going to do my fastest 10km time ever, and I was still ahead of the 2:00 pacer.
Not long before the turnaround point I heard Philby call my name and gave her a wave. She had taken off like a shot at the beginning and was now on the return part of the race, and running fantastically well. From the turnaround point myself I was still feeling great, especially knowing that I was more than halfway through. From the turnaround I was watching for Lawrie, and gave him a yell and a wave when I saw him looking like he was struggling along somewhat. I started to tire a little from about 13km, and I was getting really quite worried that I had gone out too hard and wasn't going to be able to keep my pace up for the last section. I was still maintaining 5:30-5:40/km, but it was getting harder. I needn't have worried, it wasn't going to be tiredness that was going to stop me in my tracks.
Just before the 16km marker, my right knee stopped working. No pain at first, it just refused to bend. Perturbed, I stopped, gave it a bit of a stretch, and tried to take off again. I got three steps before the pain forced me to stop again. The outside of my right knee was in complete agony any time I tried to run. It faded as I walked a few steps, so I took off again, and this time just gritted my teeth and ran through the pain. It dulled a little within a hundred metres, and I figured out that stopping and starting was a lot more painful than just continuing, so that's what I did. My pace slowed to 6:00/km and I was hobbling along, but I was still moving. I seriously considered talking to a race marshall and just giving up, but my stubborn side reasserted itself. i had trained too long and hard for this to stop now.
The 2:00 pace group caught me up at about the 17km mark. I managed to hobble along with them for about a kilometre, but they were just going too fast for me at that point, and as I watched the black balloons fade away into the distance ahead of me I couldn't help the tears that started sneaking out. I have never been in so much pain in my life, and I still had a bit over 3km to go.
The graph shows my pace for each kilometre along the run. Can you spot the point where my knee gave up? And then were I tried to keep up with the 2:00 pacer? Technology is a wonderful thing.My breathing was pretty ragged that last couple of kilometres, not because my fitness wasn't up to it, but because its hard to sob and run at the same time. I kept waiting for the 2:10 pace group to overtake me as well, but thankfully I wasn't going quite that slow. Reaching the CoolRunner cheersquad felt like the highlight of my life at that point, especially when SarahV took off and ran along the sidelines with me for the last section. It was the boost I needed to get me through to the finish line, which I staggered over with a net time of 2:03:05.
I should be happy with my time. After all, my original goal time was 2:15:00, and I absolutely smashed that. But I'm not happy. Not now that I know I could have done under 2:00 if it weren't for my knee giving up on me. At the finish line, the tears were as much from disappointment as from the pain.
A lovely race marshall lady saw me bawling like a baby coming out of the finish chute, gave me a hug and escorted me to the physio tent. Their diagnosis? Acute ITB (iliotibial band) inflammation, brought on by the repetitive friction of the band over bone. Its going to be incredibly painful for a couple of days, then it should be okay as long as I get some physio and sort out whatever biomechanical problem brought it on in the first place. Wonderful.
After they released me from the tent I caught up with Philby (1:50!) and Lawrie (2:30), gave Sarah a cheer in her 10k, dashed back to the hotel slightly late for our check-out, and headed off to find some food. A coffee and a cooked breakfast later I was feeling much better, despite walking like a complete gumby and having to let Philby drive my car back to Brisbane. I had people texting me, asking how I went, and I just didn't have the heart or the energy to have to tell my story. I just wanted to get home, curl up and have a bit of a cry. They could wait until morning.
The morning after my whole body feels a bit like someone has taken to it with a baseball bat and my knee still screams in protest when I bend it, but hey, I'm still alive. As for the half-marathon, well... There's always next year :).
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Disaster!
I guess I didn't wrap myself in enough bubble-wrap this week. I've been careful with my running, doing my best to taper down properly for the half marathon on Sunday, and yet I may have come undone from something as simple and silly as wearing socks while going down a flight of varnished wooden stairs.
It was 4:45am, I was all dressed and ready for my 5am personal training client, I put my socks on to keep my feet warm as I trotted downstairs to put my shoes on. Well, wasn't that just a bad idea? A couple of steps down my foot slipped from under me, my butt hit the ground, my back hit the sharp edge of the step behind me, and I ended up at the bottom of the stairs in a manner very different to what I had anticipated.
After a quick "Oh my god, the half is on Sunday!" moment and checking to ensure all limbs were attached and working correctly, I stood up, and promptly had to sit down again. I was so dizzy it felt like I was going to pass out and hit the ground in an ungainly manner for the second time that morning. Nauseous, faint, cold sweat, the lot. I hadn't hit my head so concussion wasn't an issue, I figure I just jarred my brain or something along those lines. I somehow managed to text my client to cancel our session, half staggered, half crawled up the stairs and collapsed on my bed. Woke up a couple of hours later feeling much more capable of remaining conscious, had a shower and went to work.
Seems to be no major damage, however my back feels somewhat bruised and a bit stiff. The bruise is right on the spine, which is worrying me quite a bit. Hopefully it won't cause any issues for Sunday. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
It was 4:45am, I was all dressed and ready for my 5am personal training client, I put my socks on to keep my feet warm as I trotted downstairs to put my shoes on. Well, wasn't that just a bad idea? A couple of steps down my foot slipped from under me, my butt hit the ground, my back hit the sharp edge of the step behind me, and I ended up at the bottom of the stairs in a manner very different to what I had anticipated.
After a quick "Oh my god, the half is on Sunday!" moment and checking to ensure all limbs were attached and working correctly, I stood up, and promptly had to sit down again. I was so dizzy it felt like I was going to pass out and hit the ground in an ungainly manner for the second time that morning. Nauseous, faint, cold sweat, the lot. I hadn't hit my head so concussion wasn't an issue, I figure I just jarred my brain or something along those lines. I somehow managed to text my client to cancel our session, half staggered, half crawled up the stairs and collapsed on my bed. Woke up a couple of hours later feeling much more capable of remaining conscious, had a shower and went to work.
Seems to be no major damage, however my back feels somewhat bruised and a bit stiff. The bruise is right on the spine, which is worrying me quite a bit. Hopefully it won't cause any issues for Sunday. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
