If it was easy, everyone would do it

The Farewell to Long Training Runs Tour is now complete. Sadly, not without incident.

I cried on my run today. Three cars slowed to ask me if I needed a ride home. One guy stopped completely, with a concerned look on his face and said, “I have never seen you walking…you must be hurt.”

This is one reason I will never run too far from home: I can count on the kindness of my neighbors even if I don’t know them, and they only know me from the seeing my run past their home.

I’ll start at the beginning. When I woke up this morning, my knee hurt. I rolled out of bed and immediately took note of the pain. It didn’t hurt too bad as I went about the business of dressing and readying for my last long run, and it didn’t make me limp (see Patti’s rule #1) so it wasn’t a big concern. Cue foreboding music here.

Knowing that my knee issue could be a bother, I ordered two Patt-Straps early this week. The idea is to use them above the knee for IT band discomfort (that’s me) and below the knee for everything else. I used one below on my non-issue knee, just for security sake, and one above on my problem knee.

That worked great for three miles. Then I felt the first twinge. The same twinge that makes me queasy. I headed home to get the neoprene sleeve, put it on and was back to running in under five minutes. Easy cheesey.

Wrongo. For the next three miles I had to constantly stop and rearrange the band. It wasn’t working. I tried above the knee. Nope. Below the knee. Worse. Above the knee, on top of the neoprene sleeve. Ridiculous. Finally, I remembered the strap could be worn higher on the hamstring. Worked like a charm. I enjoyed instant relief. For about three more miles.

Then the pain started that would stop me with such force that I would hop/flail on the good leg and hope I wouldn’t wipe out. After each of these episodes, I stopped immediately. I walked and it was fine. No pain. Nothing. Until about mile 13.

At thirteen a deep ache decided to stir the pot. This pain made me wince and moan (yes, really) and wonder what the hell I was doing, but interestingly, never made me limp. So I kept going.

Mile 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 were acts of sheer will. I was walking and running and gaging my pain. Should I stop? Should I shoot for next week as my last long run? Should I take my chances that I will be able to finish the marathon if I don’t finish this run? Could I please stop crying?!

I was frustrated and imagining the worst and in unfamiliar pain. I used my favorite marathon training mind game to review my pain level. It’s called, Does it hurt worse than blank? Does it hurt worse than having a baby? Not yet. Keep going. Does it hurt worse than the time you stress fractured your leg? Kinda, but not quite. Keep going. Does it hurt worse than when you cracked your ribs? Nope, not even close. Keep going. Does it hurt worse than the time you got clobbered by a swing and needed stitches right above your eye? Thankfully no. Keep going.

Not Hasbro approved fun, but it works.

Instead of running 22-23 miles today, I ran 20. And then cried all the way home walking mile 21. I’m sure I was a sight. Walking without bending my left leg. Wailing. Limping on the other. Sobbing like

I lost my best friend. Cursing. Downgrading into blubbering.

Not my finest moment.

But, after getting home and sitting in an ice bath, then taking a hot shower and then icing it again, I feel better. Hurts when I use it, but not swollen or discolored or screaming at me like it was earlier.