Come downstairs and say, "Hello"

Home is a place you can go to after a prolonged absence and feel like you never left. I am lucky enough to have two places that fit that descriptions.

I set an alarm for Saturday morning, but I didn’t need one. Shortly after it went off, I was eased into alertness with the sounds of birds chirping. I am not trying to sound cliché, but the sound of the birds truly was soothing and comforting. It’s one of those things you don’t notice until it is replaced with a buzzing air conditioner fan that’s meant to dull the noise of traffic and drunk people outside your window, no matter what hour of the day. Suddenly, the stress of Friday night was gone. The bumper-to-bumper traffic from the Upper West Side to Laguardia, the delayed departure, the tiny plane so small that every sound and worse, every smell was amplified; all of that was worth it to be waking up in Charlotte.

After taking it all in, I was off to do what I did nearly every Saturday morning when I lived in Charlotte; meet Paul for a run at McAlpine. I had put in another tough training week, all of it centered around a workout we had planned when I booked the trip earlier in the month. I was excited to run with Paul again as his tenacity always makes the work challenging. I wanted to hit the target times he had set for the intervals and be a worthy training partner for the fit Brit.

We did a light three mile jog to the starting point and rolled into the first two mile interval. The goal was to run 10:30. We went out a little fast, which was surely my doing, but evened it out before it could impact the rest of the workout. My Garmin clicked off 5:12, then 5:15 for 10:27. Next up was four 400s. With the lack of foot speed I have talked of often, I knew I’d be sucking wind. I struggled to hang on to Paul as we did each one in the low 70s. Then came the real challenge of the workout. We needed to do two miles again in the same pace or faster, but this time on tired legs. As we started out, the impact of the 400s was immediate. After running at sub 5:00 pace, 5:10 pace felt very easy. That lasted for roughly three-quarters of a mile and then it was back to reality. The final 1.25 miles of the workout was a challenge. Paul and I ran stride for stride, holding pace and finished in another 10:27. This was a hands on the knees, no words for a couple of seconds kind of workout. Those are both indicators of success.

Since I don’t get to Charlotte often, Lauren and I tried not to waste a single minute. I got back to Sloan and Jamie’s house following the workout and finally got to meet the beautiful Ruth Ann in person. (We had previously only met on Skype). Add another baby crush to my list. She’s a five-month-old heartbreaker! Then, it was off to Toast where we met Caitlin and devoured three of the restaurant’s most delicious/sweet/unhealthy entrees and I saw Caitlin’s engagement ring for the first time (Nice work, Garrett!). We stopped by the local bookstore and the outdoor store before meeting up with Paul, Lisa and the girls for more food, this time frozen yogurt.

In my brief visit, it was really important for me to see the Norman family. Earlier in the week, Aimee passed away following a long battle with cancer. Her life touched a lot of others, as evidenced by a memorial service that was standing room only, and signs around the city thanking God for her time on this earth. Our trip to their house was quick, but it was good to see them and more importantly, see them smile. It’s proof that Aimee’s presence is permanent.

The afternoon was filled with a recovery run with Aaron and Paul (we spent a lot of time together on Saturday), a beautiful “memorial party” for Milton, who also passed away earlier in the week and then a laid-back evening of beers and stories at Selwyn Pub with Caitlin, Paul, Lisa, Aaron, Barb, Billy, Mike, Allen, Lori, Ashley and Michael Jordan. Ok, so Michael Jordan didn’t sit with us, but he was at the bar and I did see him as he watched the team he owns, arguably the worst team in professional sports, lose yet another game.

Lauren left for Manhattan Sunday and I spent the entire day with Caitlin. Since we only see each other once every couple of months, we tried to cram all of our catching up into a 10 hour hang-out marathon. It started with a big group long run at McAlpine. 17 miles with more than a dozen friends never feels like 17 miles. Then it was breakfast at Panera, a stroll down East Boulevard, coffee at Dilworth Coffee and the drive to Aaron’s to chill on his couch watching the UNC game and Saturday Night Live on DVR. All of it before the all-too-soon return to the airport where I would board a plane and be thrust back into the fast-paced world of New York City.

Something about being in Charlotte with Lauren feels, for lack of a better word, right. We met there. We became friends there. We fell in love there. Many of our best friends are there. We got married there. I wish we had the opportunity to see everyone during our visit, but we’ll never be too far away from home.

What you don't know can, in fact, hurt you very badly

Before last week, I didn’t even know I had a quadratus lumborum. Now, I am acutely aware. In fact, I have assembled a team of experts who are also acutely aware and working to stop it from rebelling against the rest of my body.



So, that’s the diagnosis. A large muscle that stretches from my spine to my pelvis is tightened and possibly spasming. It causes an intense pain with each fall of my left foot. Until today, I found myself in a familiar place. The pool. Sunday, I aquajogged for 90 minutes. Ask me how that went. I was beginning to get used to and maybe even enjoy the smell of chlorine pouring from my skin.

Monday and today, I started off my mornings with a fairly vigorous swim. As I climbed out of the pool this morning, a thought popped in to my head. “What if this is making it worse?” I thought about all the twisting one does while swimming. Then, I debated internally over whether to share this bit of knowledge with the PT that is treating me. I did, and his answer was both what I expected and what I feared. He told me to shut it down. No exercising until the pain goes away. None. I am going to live how the other 90% of America lives for a while; inactively. I don’t remember the last time I went two weeks without exercising. It’s been at least 10 years. At least. I thought my eight weeks of no running were bad. This is a new kind of death sentence.

In hindsight, this is probably my fault. When I started running after my stress fracture, my hamstring and glutes were both tight. When the tightness went away, maintenance went by the wayside. Little did I know, the pain only went away because that trusty old QL stepped in to carry the load. It held on, God bless it, for dear life until one night, five miles into a run, it didn’t want to work that hard anymore. Now, it needs a little TLC. What it is going to get is a LOT of TLC. There’s already been massage, active release, physical therapy and tomorrow, acupuncture. I’m going to kill it with kindness.

Before anyone has a chance to think it, I know how to put things in perspective. I don’t have terminal cancer. I haven’t lost a loved one. People are dealing with much worse decks. But our personal tragedies are relative to who and where we are in life and this is a big one for me. I am grateful for all the things I have going, and am not asking for an “it could be worse” line. Of course it could be.

Fortunately, there is more to life than running and I am not talking about cycling and swimming. In the midst of all this self-pity wallowing, extended time in water, painful poking and prodding and needles sticking from my body, there’s been some interesting news.

Lauren got into General Theological Seminary in Manhattan. She was stunned. While I was VERY EXCITED, I was not stunned because I knew all along that she would be accepted. I was only surprised that they didn’t drive down to North Carolina and demand she come this instant. Of course, the natural follow up question is, “Will you also be moving to New York?” The answer is “yes.” I just won’t be moving there as soon as Lauren. She starts school in August, and I am contractually bound to Charlotte until the end of March. We’ll be doing the long distance thing for a while, including two months after our wedding on December 31st. And of course, I have to find a job.

In other wedding news, a lot of the planning is done. When you have a wedding on New Year’s Eve, you have to get all your ducks lined up early. I can tell you that our wedding party consists of Aaron Linz, Richard Austin, Stephen and Pierce Robbins, Sloan Crawford, Caitlin Chrisman, my sister Julie and Erin Donovan. I know my ushers are Paul Mainwaring, Jesse Contario, Peter Chambers and Nathan Thomas. The rehearsal dinner will be held at Providence Café. The guest hotel is the Hampton Inn & Suites at Phillips Place in South Park. We are still trying to nail down the official time of the ceremony, but we’re almost there. We’re still hammering out the guest list, but it will be limited to keep costs down.

I’ve been meaning to write that book recap, but I fear this post is already far too long. Instead, I’ll end with a quote that’s gotten me through my slump.

“Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber.”
 Charlie Sheen

Back on (the) track

I've never beat around the bush when it comes to the track. I don't like it. There is no special place in my heart for repeated 400 meter loops. Give me a rolling asphalt road or a dirt trail any day. That being said, it was kind of nice to pull into the familiar parking lot that sits above the JCSU track -- adjacent to the giant metal bull -- in West Charlotte Tuesday night.

Actually, Tuesday started with another odd and uncharacteristic first. I woke up at 4:45am ready to limber up, dress up (for the cold) and head to McAlpine for the Miner's Run. But as I limbered, I could tell my legs weren't as fresh as they could be from running both Saturday and Sunday and in an time where caution is king, I changed directions and turned left on Providence toward the Dowd Y pool instead of right toward McAlpine. By 5:20, I was swimming laps. It's the earliest I have ever been submerged in water. By 5:55, I was being kicked out by a gaggle of old ladies who needed the pool for water aerobics.

I've gotten off track (pun). I got out of my car already geared up and launched right into a two mile warmup down to the cemetery and back. By the time I got back to the track and passed by Caitlin and her menagerie of male minions doing a minuter workout, Aaron was there and ready to go. Of course, our workouts were dramatically different. He was doing 3X2000, which for a guy with just nine runs under his belt since eight weeks off, was a bit ambitious. I thought I could probably manage the first 800 of each one, going right into a moderately paced run in between the intervals.

What I wasn't counting on was how good of shape Aaron is in. Adrenaline and the excitement of going fast for the first time since mid-November got me through the first lap with little effort. By the second lap, my body and mind realized just how quick we were moving. It was a shock to the dusty system. Still, I clung to Aaron's shoulder, not backing down. We hit the 800 in 2:34 and I was breathing pretty heavy. Ok, I was panting.

After a two more pedestrian paced laps around the track, I was ready for our next one. We took off with the same force -- shot out of a cannon. Two laps of me holding on for dear life while Aaron seemed to move effortlessly through the turns and accelerate down the straightaways. This time, I pulled up alongside on the final stretch to finish stride-for-stride. Well, I finished, but he had three more laps to go. 2:32. I repeated the motions for number three, finishing in 2:31.

I was winded, but after watching Aaron click off one 75 second lap, I made a go at an unplanned fourth 800. Through the lap, I taunted Aaron with the hopes of being motivational, saying things like "don't let the guy with the broken ankle beat you," and "I haven't run in eight weeks." He was killing the workout, so this was probably useless, but still fun for me. With no expectation of doing anything more than three, I pulled out after a 76 second 400 happy with the small amount of work.

In the grand scheme of things, and in comparison to workouts of the past, this was kind of a joke. But I am measuring success differently right now. I am simply looking for signs of life in the legs. They're there, and that's a good indication that I'm not starting from scratch.

The Slow Return

I feel like every time I launch into a story about my injury, I start it the same way: "The hardest part about getting hurt is..." Today, I can definitively say that the hardest part about getting hurt is coming back. It hurts. It's soul crushing and it takes an incredible amount of restraint.

I started running again on January 22nd, 17 days after my Doctor told me I could start back when I thought it was appropriate. That was a challenge in itself. The first run was really just a jog. 18:43 seconds at a warm-up/cool-down pace with Caitlin, Aaron, Ben and Billy. But oh, it felt so good. Nearly 19 minutes of bliss. The CRC Board of Directors had travelled to Asheville for our mission and vision retreat and to run the Hot Chocolate 10K. I had really looked forward to the race, but after accepting the fact that I wouldn't be at the starting line, I simply looked forward to being AT the race. Seeing people working the flats and the hills wasn't depressing, it was inspiring. Lauren, Aaron, Allen, Matt, Boriana, Sarah, Scott, Billy...they all had great races and it reminded me that I've had and will have great races too.

What's tough about building back up your strength and endurance is that it is just that --
building. Just like any project, when you rush, you are bound to screw the whole thing up. Runners who've been down seven weeks, can't just start running 80 miles a week again. Instead, you run a fraction of that distance and continue to cross-train to make up for the rest. After that first run in Asheville, I was back to my monotonous, yet important activities. To supplement my tiny running workout, I found myself in the pool at the Asheville YMCA, passing over the same band-aid stuck to the pool floor 100 times. Gross. Sunday morning when everyone got up early to find some trails in the mountains, I got up early and got in my car to make the two-and-a-half hour drive back to Charlotte. I drove almost directly to the Dowd YMCA (stopped for coffee and to see Pepper) where it was two hours of spinning and swimming.

Monday: Spin lift.
Tuesday: Perhaps the best proof of my desparation and lonliness. I woke up at 4:45am just to meet the Miner's Run group by 5:30 at McAlpine, run two miles out with them, then turn around and run back by myself. In the evening, I swam.
Wednesday: Spin, swim.
Thursday: Five easy miles in the morning before flying to Austin, Texas. When we got to Austin, Lauren was nice enough to take me a YMCA, where I swam a mile in a heated outdoor pool. I have to say, I am stunned by her willingness to aid in such an obsesion.
Friday: Off, although Lauren and I rented a kayak and rowed for an hour.
Saturday: 6 miles in Burnet, Texas at sub-7:00 pace. I've still got it! My legs hurt, but my heart feels fine.
Sunday: Only because it was run or do nothing, I did my first back-to-back runs. I only had a couple of beers on Saturday, but I must have drank enough to forget the marathon I apparently ran. Wow did my legs hurt! I limped along, waiting for five miles to be done and over with.

Today it was an hour on the elliptical and a swim. I'll try to run every other day this week. The thing is, running is so easy. You don't have to go anywhere to do it if you don't want to. You don't have to fight off all the people fighting for a machine at the Y. (Side note: it appears people are sticking with their resolutions a little longer than usual. Come on people, it's February! Wendy's is calling your name! Square beef!). You can get up and go, and that's why it's so tough to stop yourself.

On a non-running related note (I can do that, because it's my blog), Austin, Texas may be the coolest city I have ever visited. There is music everywhere, and good music to boot. Every eatery we walked or drove by looked like one I'd like to stop at. As we sat at an outdoor coffee shop listening to a jazz/bluegrass band on Sunday afternoon, I found myself wondering how a city like Austin landed in a state so incredibly different.



But it wasn't just Austin itself that was awesome. We were there to see Lauren's family. It was her granddad's 80th birthday and we celebrated at two lake front cabins about an hour outside the city. For me, it marked the first time I'd be meeting all the aunts, uncles and cousins I'd heard so much about. I have to admit, it was intimidating and at times overwhelming. But it was also really cool. I'm sorry I don't have a more eloquent word, but that's what it was. I'm already looking forward to getting to know everyone better and becoming part of their family.

The Run Around over my Run Around Richmond

My recap of the Richmond Marathon concluded with a mystery. Will he be placed in the official results, or will his time only exist in his head forever? The answer is the former. However, it didn't come easy.

The pre-race dinner should have been a precursor. When the attendant at the front desk of the Day's Inn told us the hotel restaurant was having a pasta dinner, we thought, "What could be easier?" So, instead of venturing out into the town, we simply made our way downstairs. I expected there to be a buffett with spaghetti, meatballs, sauce, bread, salad, etc. But, when we walked in there was no buffett. We sat right down since the place was half-empty and when our waitress came over, we immediately ordered. We both wanted the spaghetti special. Easy enough, right? Wrong. Now, I am no chef, but I have cooked spaghetti. The longest its ever taken me to make spaghetti is eight minutes. That's including the amount of time it takes to get the water to boil. When 20 minutes passed, both Aaron and I started to get a little annoyed. We ordered bread to fight off the hunger. It came...15 minutes later. 40 minutes and still no spaghetti. The waitress kept coming by and saying things like, "it's almost here," and "I've never seen it this busy." There were maybe 15 people in the restaurant. Not to mention it was no secret there was a marathon in town the next day that started four blocks from the hotel. Perhaps some planning might have been beneficial. At the 50 minute mark, the pasta arrived. Instead of being plentiful, it was puny. I think both of us finished the entire plate with the side of mystery meat balls in 1/10th of the time it took us to get our food. Still, hungry and overcharged considering the service and the portion size, we left in search of more food. We found ourselves at a minimart down the street. To say it was shady would be a compliment. Bars were on the doors and windows, and the odor of gasoline inside was so strong I thought the whole place might blow up were my cell phone to ring. (Note: it was not a gas station.) Fortunately, we had already bought peanut butter at a real grocery store. But, we needed jelly and bread to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We found some high fructose corn syrup concoction and some suspect looking bread and walked back to the hotel. Paul could only laugh when he came back from his nice dinner with his family to see us stuffing our faces with PB & J.

That's my anecdote.

My calls and emails to the Richmond Marathon organizers began roughly 17 seconds after I learned I had been dropped from the results. Since it was a Saturday night, I got no answer. Sunday was much of the same. On Monday, I finally got through to a person. They said they understood my concern and the problem would be fixed in one to two days. Later that day, I recieved the same response in an email. One to two days. Tuesday, I got an email from the timing company. They weren't so optimistic. I was told they would begin looking into the matter, but would need photographic evidence and testimonials from other runners. Sigh. They really suspected I cheated. I again told them that if I were going to cheat, I would cheat to a place higher than 11th. Heck, there was cash five deep. I thought they suspected me not only of cheating, but also of being stupid. Coach Hadley wrote them a strongly worded email, Paul affirmed that we ran the first seven miles together. I sent pictures and the electronically generated email Caitlin got when I finished. By Thursday, I was starting to wonder if this race was never going to officially exist for me, and I had poured months of work into something I had nothing to show for. It was a daunting feeling. Friday, I was on my last nerve. I called both the race director's office and the timing company. I left messages at both places. The timing company had an assistant call me back to say it might be several more days. In the midst of my anger, I saw that the Richmond Marathon Facebook page had reposted Theoden's blog about all the Charlotte runners and labeled it, "Charlotte Runners love the Richmond Marathon." Maybe I shouldn't have commented, but I had to. I wrote that not all Charlotte runners loved the Richmond Marathon, this one in particular. I put it right there on their public page that I was disappointed with the way this was all handled. They wrote back within minutes, clearly irritated with my squeaky-wheel attitude. That must have been the right move because it was that afternoon I got confirmation that my time of 2:40:28 was official and would be placed in the results. It's still not online, but it is supposed to be there Monday or Tuesday.

Now, I can head back up to Richmond on April 2nd for the Ukrops Monument Avenue 10K.