Out With the Old and... In With a Newer Version of the Old

I got new running shoes about a month ago and, after the hassle of getting them ordered, I was thrilled to have them and wear them. It was good to feel a fresh new cushion of a new pair of kicks. They were pretty and with my SuperFeet inserts they felt great.

Me in my Brooks after fording the muddy
stream to reach Penasco Blanco at Chaco
Canyon, New Mexico. No one died of
dysentery or lost any shoes. 

I switched back and forth with my old and new shoes while I wore the new ones in, mostly because the new ones were ever so slightly more neutral than my old ones. The people at my gym were probably pretty happy when I stopped wearing my old ones since I had worn them in New Mexico tromping around in the mud at Chaco Canyon with my bff in early February. I was still spreading bits of ancient desert with every step.

Once I was running every run in my new shoes, though, I started having pain. Every run brought pain. At first I chalked it up to not being diligent enough with my training. Then once I was back on track with training (after losing my job), that excuse didn't make sense. I ran races in pain. I ran training miles in pain. 

Until this point, my running life had been minimally painful (thank all things good!). I had a (fortunately) short-lived case of runner's knee in November and got stronger thanks to the physical therapy exercises my doctor told me to do. My original shoes saw me through every run of my newbieness until I started getting shin splints consistently around 350 miles. Even the fact that I broke my left foot twice in college hadn't stopped me. (The second time I broke it I got fired for it!) Sure, it hurts when the seasons change, but as long as it's not black and blue and as long as I don't feel "that" pain, I'm okay. (I know what it feels like all too well, sadly.)

Finally this week I was forced to do something about my pain. Track Tuesday with my running group went well. I felt great and did my speed pyramid without much trouble. That night my shins hurt and the fleshy part of my foot that should be an arch, but isn't, hurt. Both feet were mirrored images of pain. I iced my feet and went to bed. 

The next day I felt okay... sort of. I ran on the treadmill because we had some stellar thunderstorms brewing. I got to a mile and felt okay, but after that my legs hurt so badly that I had to stop. I got off and stretched and nothing felt better. I tried to walk on the treadmill and even that hurt. A lot. So I went home and hobbled around to make dinner, all the while wondering what the heck I'd done to myself. 

My concern grew because I now have about three weeks until my first half marathon (May 5th!). I also knew that being sidelined after just 1.5 miles is NOT okay. Something was really wrong.

I did a little investigation online about overpronation, the shin pain I was feeling, and causes. I emailed the coaches for my running group with my hypothesis. They confirmed it. "Go back to your original brand and style," they said. 

I took my new shoes back to the store and, thankfully, they were willing to exchange them. I'm very pleased that they were so kind about it (even though I felt like I was being a total pain). I'm confident that the new shoes--a newer version of my old ones--should help me feel normal again. 

I'm ready to get back to running without pain. I mean, I've worked SO hard to get to the point that I can run and breathe well... it's time to be able to enjoy that! :)

A really, really good run

Oh how I needed a good run. After a few weeks off from those dratted stitches then a few bad runs full of huffing and puffing and walking and worrying, I truly needed a run to remind me why I do this.

It came to me last night.

I came home from work and had almost gotten to that point of settling in and not wanting to go to the gym... It's cold outside. I need to buy gas. I don't want to leave the dog again. I'm tired. I haven't had a good run in weeks. Why am I bothering with this when I can't hit my miles and I can't make it to my training group?

Then I remembered that I had a few things in my RunnerBox that I had been meaning to try. I got myself a packet of a drink mix (which I will later review!). I made the shake and drank it mindfully. Then I got my butt in gear. I changed into gym clothes, took out the dog, and I was off.

I'm a treadmiller. It's how I cut my teeth in running. I have the uncanny ability to stare at the awning of the grocery store across the street and listen to my music and get into a zone where I don't even recognize my own name... (It's happened. My boyfriend has come to ask me something and I'm just completely zoned out.)

It wasn't easy--no, don't mistake this as a simple feat. This GOOD RUN was hard earned. I had to continually fend off anxious thoughts about my asthma, my slower-than-snails pace, my heart rate, my feelings about my out-of-shapeness (in comparison to others), and my lack of enthusiasm thanks to all of the above.

I let the thought enter my mind, acknowledged it, and then let it go.

That is SO effing hard. Especially if, like me, you're used to dwelling on things like those I listed above and letting them drive you into WorryWorld, population: 1; being your own worst enemy is awful. KNOWING that you're your own worst enemy is worse. Knowing that you're your own worst enemy and letting yourself continue to beat the pulp out of yourself--that is the worst. That. Is. The. Worst.

So I started running. I had to keep dropping those worry thoughts like they were razor-sharp, lava covered, disease ridden hot potatoes. (Trust me, you wanna drop those.)

I fell into my playlist and forgot about my pace (which I've been fretting). I got the three miles I was after and felt great when I was done.

Sense of accomplishment? You bet. And thank God, because I remembered that I started running because I was a worrier... and worrying about running? Yeah, that needs to stop.