Posts Tagged with: "Injury"

It was a Saturday so I was all set for my long run, 22km to be exact. Things were going smoothly—quite perfectly in fact—as I kept a steady pace below 6:30 and maintained my heart rate in Zone 3. The cool weather gave me an extra reason to smile (and a good excuse to keep on wearing my favorite mizuno leggings). Yup, I could definitely cover the distance on my own (Annie passed this week)—and I was going to enjoy it. Had you been there, you would’ve witnessed me rolling down the roads of Ayala Alabang singing “The hills are alive…” sans the little apron, of course.

A little after 5 km, I felt a slight pain below my right knee (different from my other meniscus problem on the left knee). This had been troubling me for the past weeks after my runs, but never had it attacked during the actual run. Ouch. I plodded on. Ouch again. I shifted to brisk walking. After a few minutes, I tried running again only to feel the pain return instantly. After a few more futile attempts at running, I gave up. Crap, I was over 4 km away from my car.

What followed was—without any ounce of exaggeration—the longest 20 minutes of my entire running life. Walking back that distance was like dying a slow death…in slow motion. Groups of cyclists were passing me by every so often and I contemplated on grabbing one cyclist from behind and hopping over on his bike to ride back home. Since they were all burly men, I decided against it. The whole walking thing was making me sleepy…and worse, it didn’t make me sweat!

I made good use of that time though: soul searching, evaluating of the year that passed, and planning for the year ahead. Then, I did a couple of memory enhancing exercises, recited the alphabet backwards followed by all prime numbers under 1,000 and many many more. I even thought of new inventions for runners that I’ll tell you more about in a future post.

Then, as always, I started worrying. What is this? Can I run again on Monday? God, not another major injury, pleeeease.

As soon as I got home, I covered my injury with ice and elevated it. Then, I repeated my plea with more fervor: God, not another major injury, please!

My guess is that the little devil is this: Anterior Compartment Syndrome (another way of saying shin splints that make you sound awfully smart). How do I know? Well, that’s what my inner doctor told me after a few minutes of meditating. And yeah, I also looked up my symptoms on the web.

Just to be sure though, I’ll visit a new doctor this week. Time to get a second opinion on my meniscus (left knee) and have my shin problem (right leg) checked. What a great way to start the New Year, don’t you think?

I made it to the Mizuno Run Club last night. But, disappointingly, I wasn’t there to run.

Shortly after I published the previous post yesterday, I headed for SM to run errands. As I swept through the department store purchasing everything on my list in haste, I noticed my knee popping again. And again. And again.

Damn it. The meniscus irritablus annoyus problemus was back. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run in Mizuno.

Desperate to get as close to running as I could get, I asked the kids after dinner: “Who wants to go to Krispy Kreme?!” To my delight, both kids answered a resounding “Yes!” (In case you’re wondering, the hubby has been out all week on a business trip.) So, with the kids in tow, I headed over to Bonifacio High Street eager to get a whiff of—no, not donuts—but some running energy.

As we entered High Street, I spotted one runner, then two, then the entire group running along our usual route. Aaaw, I wish I was one of them, I thought. Then, I got all sentimental, anxious, envious, and frustrated. When can I run again? How long will this injury last? Do I have to start cross training to maintain my fitness level? I was on the brink of craziness and depression.  (Hey, you would be too after six days of no running!)

I passed by Mizuno to quickly chat with Chanda, one of the club organizers, Ige, the coach, and exchange a few words with other faithful attendees like Totoy, Pablo, Renz, Gelo and Mandy. Drenched in sweat, they were obviously done with their laps. I so wanted to be sticky and sweaty and tired like them, but nope, all I could do was watch and pray that in two weeks I would be able to join the run again.

As promised, I took the kids to Krispy Kreme and Starbucks. As we gobbled our treats in the car on the way home while singing to High School Musical 2 out loud, I realized that things weren’t so bad. Despite the evil injury, I had a great life. My family is great; I have good and healthy kids and a loving hubby who I’ll be seeing soon. I work from home—a set up that is perfect for a hands-on mommy and addicted runner like me. And, I’m alive! It’s just a matter of time before I can run again.

Boy, those Christmas peppermint brownies from Starbucks sure can turn a bad day into a good one.

To say this week was slow would be an understatement. It was a dreadfully long-drawn-out and nasty five days for me:

• Sunday: 45 minute easy run in Ayala Alabang
• Monday: I skip my 5:30am run with Coach B and Annie due to soreness on my left knee. Coach B tells me to rest for two days. When the pain miraculously disappears in the afternoon, I hop on the treadmill and run 6k. Shhh…don’t tell Coach B! (Yeah yeah yeah, I can be bullheaded at times…or most of the time)
• Tuesday: Soreness on the knee is back, but worse. I’m convinced my meniscus problem is back—no use denying it, my knee snaps everytime I bend it. Ugh. Depression sets in: Will I ever be able to run again? How do I train for Run for PEACE? Does this mean I can’t eat like a slob anymore lest I gain weight? And, when oh when will I be able to take my new running shoes for a road test?
• Wednesday: Again, I am forced to skip my 5:30am run! I am in panic mode. I am turning into an evil monster. If I don’t run soon, I will devour anything that has feet.
• Thursday: My knees still snap…but I make myself believe that it slightly improves by evening. I commit to run the following day.
• Friday (today): I wake up at 4:30am thanking the high heavens for a painless knee. Woohoo!

So, I met Coach B at our usual meeting place this morning for an easy run. Just 45 mins. on the flat roads of Ayala Alabang. We ran at a slow, steady pace to avoid further injuries to my knee and kept it that way all throughout the run. Oooh, it felt so good to be back. I was comfortable, at ease, and happy. I thought things couldn’t get better than that, but much to my surprise, it did. It started to rain! It was my first time to run in the rain—and it was fun! As we ran drenched in sweat and raindrops, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I was just in pure bliss. If Coach B had glanced my way, he must’ve thought I was crazy—but then again, as a fellow runner, I’m sure he knew exactly how I felt.

Now sing with me: I’m running in the rain, I’m running in the rain. What a beautiful feeling. I’m most definitely happy again!

Did you know that you can significantly improve your runs while lying down? Yes, experts say that you can run better, faster, and longer if you lie down and…get a massage, that is. The benefits of a massage for runners are numerous:

1. increases blood flow to your muscles (in simple language, it “heats” the blood just like a warm-up would do)
2. soothes and relaxes your muscles
3. relieves cramps and muscle tension
4. improves flexibility which will result in more power and better performance
5. prevents injury
6. reduces tension (if you’re stressed about an upcoming race)
7. lessens soreness (especially after a heavy training day or a race)
8. aids in eliminating lactic acid build up
9. makes you feel better (not as good as a tough run though!)

It comes as no surprise then that some experts recommend massage to be a regular part of a runner’s training schedule. At the NYC Marathon, they deploy 100 massage therapists to serve the 34,000 runners before and after the race. Wow. Here in the Philippines, we don’t even get water in our water stations (tsk tsk).

I have a love-hate-love relationship with massages. I used to love them, then after a nightmarish experience with a masseuse I boycotted them for three years, and now that I’m into running I am completely utterly dependent on them. After a super heavy run, it’s a must for me to get a massage if I want to walk properly (and not look like I have a stick up my butt) the following morning. If I feel sluggish during the day, my masseuse will definitely be called upon that evening.

Last Friday, two nights before the Champion Race, I thought of treating my body to a massage (perhaps the best way to prepare it for the torture it was about to endure…some sort of yin & yang in the bullrunner’s world.) With my favorite masseuse unavailable, I bravely asked them to send me the strongest woman in the house. This was no time for a namby-pamby body rub; I wanted fierce and fiesty karate-chop-type of physical therapy.

Boy did I make a big mistake. When the masseuse (let’s call her Masseuse X to protect her identity) started massaging my legs, I felt pain, not relief! Masseuse X had power alright, but her strokes were quick, rough, and amateurish. Her fingers were pushing into my skin. She even pulled on my blister and my dead toenail—such monstrosity! Not once, not twice, but thrice I asked her to decrease the pressure, but she didn’t heed my request. Ack, I gritted my teeth thinking of the hundreds of seconds I had to endure under that pain.

Since I am writing now, you know that I did survive that horrifying experience. I went to the Champion Run with a rejuvenated body, but with bruises on my shins and arms because of the pounding. Lesson learned: Thou shalt not experiment with a new masseuse before a race. If possible, have husband serve as guinea pig first.

References:

Gloria Averbuch, New York Road Runners Complete Book of Running and Fitness, 4th Edition, New York, Random House, 2004

Claudia Piepenberg, Massage For Runners, How To Be Fit.com

This will be a short entry as I am inconsolable as I write this. Kindly say a prayer for the death of a beloved—my fourth toenail on my right foot.

His death came like a thief in the night. This morning, when I woke up for my early morning run, he was in the pink of health. As I slipped my socks past him, I sensed that something was not right. I checked my 2nd toe and, yes, I had wrapped it with micropore tape to protect it from blisters. So, what could be wrong? I was late so, with much hesitation, I put my shoes on and rushed out the door.

Being the last running session before the Champion Race, we kept it light and easy today. We ran around 7k at a comfortable pace before we called it a day. When I got home, I tossed my shoes and socks unto the hamper and got the shock of my life.

There he was—my badly bruised toenail gasping for his last breath and then fading away. He was gone.

The entire toenail is now black with bluish tints (must I get so graphic?) and it is slightly painful when touched. I doubt if it will trouble me during the race, but its sheer ugliness is bothersome for me. Oh, the sacrifices one must undertake as a runner!

As I type these words in grief, only one thought comes to mind: Will my feet still look good in Havaianas?