Hey, Doc. Don't tell a marathoner to exercise more

 

Maybe I’m overtired. (That’s a given.) But I’m finding this hilarious.

 Like nearly anyone with upcoming races (of any distance) on the calendar, this time of year spells active training. OK, for most of us, that’s pretty much the case all year round, but we tend to pour it on in the spring months, as we prep for warm-weather races.

 

Enter my physician here.

 Having postponed several checkups and procedures during the peak of the recent pandemic, I finally decided to book and show up for a routine physical. The doctor nagged me about some age-appropriate testing, which I did. He also ordered some lab-work, primarily as benchmarks.

  The short version is simple: Everything came back OK.

 Then I received a very brief letter (via snail mail) from my doc.

“Labs are normal. Try to get some exercise, if possible.”

 

Um, what? More exercise?

 This week, as the month of May comes to a close, I’m passing 900 miles for the year (so far).

 

More exercise?

 In the very expensive 12 1/2 minutes that my physician actually spent with me in his office exam room, he did ask me if I’m doing any more marathons this year. I told him I have a few half marathons on the books and might add a full one for the fall. (So many races were canceled in the past couple of years that I am taking a bit of a wait-and-see attitude on the pricier ones.) 

We also talked about the four cardio classes I do each week, along with my equestrian pursuits, cani-cross endeavors (with two large, happy, high-energy beasts), and other fitness activities.

 I might not have mentioned that every one of the fitness professionals with whom I interact each week frequently reminds me of the importance of scheduling down-time and actually taking rest days now and them. (I’m not so good at that. My idea of a rest day usually ends up with me trying to keep up with a busy two year old grandkid or spending several hours digging in the garden.)

 

Geez. I hope that was a form letter.

 And I guess the doc didn’t notice that my BMI is well within the best range, and my weight was actually down from the last time it was clocked in my file.

 Still, I’m lacing up my sneaks and dashing out for more exercise – but not because the doctor said so.

 Seriously, telling a runner to get more exercise is like telling a chocoholic to go eat another hunk of chocolate. Let’s call my physician an enabler…

 

Related Items:

•  Do I really need a running rest day?
• Marathons: Maybe I lied about one-and-done
• Power Play: 15 reasons runners often run faster in races than training runs
• Summer goal: Finding my abs

 

 

Image/s: Created with online generator

 

Feel free to follow Runderdog on Twitter, as well as Run Run Run in Wisconsin and Northern Illinois (Runderdog Runs the Midwest) on Facebook. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.

Marathon recovery: Did I race again too soon?

Marathon experts and running gurus trumpet the value of post-race resting. Lots of them urge runners to take time off, perhaps calling for one day of rest for every mile (or five miles) they ran in the big race. Some advocate reverse tapering, with athletes gradually increasing their distances (and speeding up their paces again). Others simply suggest easing up a bit for a while and listening to one’s own body.

Toss MS into the mix, and well ... I probably should heed that advice better.  But sometimes it's worth the risk.

Oops.

I kind of got off-track recently, while recovering from the Chicago Marathon, which took place nearly three weeks ago.

My intentions were good. I skipped my morning-after weight training class. I eased up on my training mileage for the following week or two.

Then I headed to Washington, DC, with friends.

I’d signed up for the Marine Corps Marathon 10K, rather than the full 26.2, acknowledging that my body still needed some recovery time from the Chicago race. 

But things didn’t exactly go that way. And I’m honestly glad they didn’t.

Marine Corps race day arrived, along with crazy-heavy rains and strong winds that overflowed puddles and the Potomac River.  Runners slogged through ankle-deep (and higher) waters to follow the race course. It was a mess. Then the sun came out, bringing system-shocking humidity.

Runners were dropping like flies. Skilled, well-trained, fit runners climbed (or were loaded) into rescue vehicles.

Two friends and I completed the 10K and then checked in electronically on two others, who were slugging their way through their first-ever full marathon. One was tired and hurting around the midway point. She’d come back from major surgery (with complications), but she wouldn’t let any of that stop her from doing the marathon.

We 10Kers jogged to the nearest subway stop and made our way to that friend’s next mile marker on the marathon course. Once we spotted her, we tucked our 10K finishers’ medals into our shirts (to keep them from beating our chests) and fell into step with her to offer some encouragement for a mile or two.

The other back-of-packers at that point didn’t seem to mind our company, either.

We shared our goos and pickle juice and other snacks (along with shoulder taps and words of encouragement) with total strangers, as we all trudged along together. I handed one lady a tiny snack bag, with just 4-5 pretzels left in it, and she actually hugged me.

We made it to the final bridge, a dreaded gauntlet, not long before many later runners were swept off the course into buses. We outran the final pickup bus and passed the final turn-off, sharing a cheering roar with fatigued runners all around us.

But we didn’t stop there.

We actually ran almost a half marathon, accompanying our intrepid friend all the way to the start of the marathon finish line chute, before veering off to let her conquer the final battle alone and receive her well-earned finisher’s medal.

Our two marathon-entry friends completed their first 26.2 races. The other three of us totaled about 19 miles, between the two races, although only 6.2 officially counted.

All in all, the day was worthy of true celebration.

Today I’m a little tired. That was more than I ought to have done, so soon after my own full marathon in Chicago. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. The glow on our friend’s face, as she beat the marathon dragon at his own game, was well worth it.

My next race is just under two weeks out. It’s a 10K. And I promise I will leave it at that.

Images:

Public domain image.

Feel free to follow on Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well. And I am happy to share my RUNDERDOG ambassador code for 10% off on Bondi Band Athletic Headbands, Accessories, and Fashions. (Simply enter the code at online checkout.).

Mid-season knee injury puts a crimp in marathon training

Runners dread injuries, and not just because they hurt. We can be filled with forebodings over the prospect of being laid-up for a stretch – especially during race season. You might say the mere thought makes us weak in the knees.

I wish I had a better story, but this is what happened.

Tripping over a hose left on my own front stoop, I smashed one knee on the concrete before crashing straight-on into the plate-glass storm door. Thank God the glass didn’t break. This could have been a very different story.

My first thought, as I sat on the porch hugging my sore knee, was that my race season and marathon training plan were going to fall flat. Then I started feeling shaky and queasy, as I saw my knee double in size almost instantly. 

I stumbled to my feet, wondering if my hassled hinge would hold.

Every runner knows other runners who have suffered knee injuries that ended their running careers. All too many have struggled through such ordeals personally. I dreaded that possibility.

Ah! I was able to put weight on that leg. I could walk. But as the swelling increased, my ability to walk and bend and articulate that leg diminished. The thing began looking monstrous.

My other half said, “Looks like you broke your kneecap,” before suggesting I go to the emergency room. He declined to go with me. (Don’t get me started on that.)

I drove myself to the ER, where I remained for nearly four hours. Finally, the x-ray report came back, along with the medical staff. Nothing was broken. Nothing was torn through. But the muscles and tendons were strained and angry. And the whole knee neighborhood was turning Technicolor.

They gave me a knee brace/compression thing to wear for a while, along with instructions to keep it iced, elevated, and idle for some time.

Did I mention I am slated to run as a race ambassador for a half marathon in five days?

Here’s a quick aside:

A few years ago, after breaking several bones in an equestrian accident, I had a bone density scan. (This is a really good idea for anyone over 40-something.) Some bone loss was evident, and the doctor recommended an increase in weight-bearing exercise. Soon after that, I started running. I’d be willing to bet that’s a big reason I didn’t break anything in this recent tumble.

That and a big measure of God’s grace, because I was anything but graceful.

Images:

Adapted by this user from public domain artwork

Feel free to follow on Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.