Mele Kalikimaka

Well, the presents have all been unwrapped, the cookies have all been eaten, the wheelchair returned, and my manservant...er...dear friend has left. I have been trying to be a good hostess for the past few days, and forgot to wish all of you a Merry Christmas! So I send you all a virtual Christmas Card, which you can see at the right.
From what I read Santa has been very good to my readers. I was very nervous since 90% of the items on my wish list were running-related. I wasn't sure if I could emotionally handle opening that many running gifts. Thankfully, despite asking for one every year, my family ignored most of my wish list. I did get a few running-related items. Props goes to my younger brother, who surprised me with the following:
I am still shocked he picked this out himself. I am especially titillated by the hot pink water bottle--my two existing bottles (Nalgene and Camelback) are showing serious wear. Our family also has a history of giving a few gag gifts, and I laughed hysterically when I opened the next gift from him:
Gotta love little brothers. My sister gets mega bonus points for some C9 Sports Bras from Target (no Target on Oahu--coming in 2009!) My mom sent me batteries for my Sansa MP3 player, NuSkin for my blisters, and a very interesting version of Icy-Hot:
I got other non-running presents, but the most feel-good present came from my Dad. He gave everything to a family that has nothing. He started the tradition of giving to a charity for Christmas a few years ago, and I was on pins and needles to see what charity he would pick this year. Sure, money and gifts are awesome to receive Christmas morning, but nothing warms my heart more than seeing a donation made to a charity.
So, the Christmas season of 2007 has passed. This was my first Christmas away from my family, which was harder than I thought it would be. I missed the wee-hours brunch after Christmas Eve Midnight Mass, I missed my mom's Stollen, I missed a chill in the air, I even missed the bickering among us siblings. I especially missed not being able to go out for a run. When I was running, my mood swung from hyper and happy to calm and mellow. Now my mood swings from very blue to very crabby. I know that this is all temporary and very common to deal with when recovering from an injury, but it's still tough for me. I'm usually the "always happy" kind of girl, and don't know how to deal with these blah days. To make things worse, the pain is now back with a vengeance. I think I foolishly did too much when it felt good, and am now paying the price. I plan on spending the next few days inside to recover (and because I can't drive and all my friends are AWOL). I am antsy as to what to do to pass the time. If I watch any more TV I think my brain may turn to pea soup. So, what to do? Suggestions? Anyone?

The Great Crutch Challenge

You can get away with a lot when you are in a wheelchair. Like yelling "Mush!" extraordinarily loudly in a quiet museum while your friend pushes you around. Or being able to dress up like a tree snail in the childrens' exhibit and not getting weird looks. (On second thought, people probably thought I was mentally handicapped as well.)
I even got a discount at the museum because I was in a wheelchair! Woo! The best was what they called the discount....wait for it....
The "Aloha Special"? That sounds like either an "option" at a massage parlor or an E. coli cocktail. It definitely does not make me feel special for my physical handicapness. You know what else did not make me feel special? Hanging out by the adult diaper display in the wheelchair rental place for 90 minutes. Nothing says "welcome to paradise" more than maximum absorbency!


Despite my complaints, being a handicapped tourist definitely has its perks. These benefits aren't limited to just being in a wheelchair. While on crutches, we got whisked to the front of all the lines at the Pearl Harbor memorial.
I also got many sympathetic looks while I made it to the beach today. No matter what the doctor says, I can make sand and crutches work. Want proof?
We began to turn this into a game: let's see if we can take crutches to place where no crutches have gone before. My mind is churning, but I welcome suggestions. So, I guess we can call this the great Crutch Challenge: yes, that's right, it's official. Let it be known to all the bloggers in the land: Frayed Laces is Issuing the Great Crutch Challenge! Send me your suggestions of where I should try to take my crutches (keeping in mind one fall could completely shatter my fragile pelvis) and if I succeed, I will submit photographic evidence. If I've got 3 more weeks on these puppies, I might as well turn it into some sort of competition!

Yeehaww Y'all

Being a true GRITS member (Girl Raised in The South) I had to revise my list for Santa this year. This should very handy at the beach and running over annoying tourists. Now, where on earth did I put my shotgun?

Can't stop me now

Yesterday I was able to touch my toes. That was a major accomplishment. After realizing I still had mud from the marathon on my baby toe (gross, I know) I was determined to do something about it. Very carefully I opened my stance, grabbed onto a bar for support, and went for it. Success! Hand-toe contact! I am da (wo)Man! I also spent the majority of yesterday out of the house. I texted a friend with a message along the lines of "If I don't leave my house I am going to do something crazy" and thankfully he came to the rescue. After running errands, he mentioned that he was going to a party at a local running store and invited me along. At first I said no, because I thought it would make me sad, but I decided to go for it. I am so glad I did: almost everyone had a major injury in their past, and they were all so motivating. I came home from the evening with my spirits high. Granted I was in considerable pain after being mobile all day, but it was well worth it.
Today my dear friend JH is flying in from the mainland, and I am so excited to spend the holidays with him! Between the pre-marathon stress and post-marathon injury, I have not been able to get in the Christmas spirit. Tonight I want to put on some Christmas music, bake some cookies, finish decorating the tree, and watch some Christmas movies. I am determined to get out of this funk.
By the way, here is a great image that shows what bones I broke: I have a complete fracture in the superior pubic ramus, and a severe stress fracture/minor fracture in the inferior pubic ramus. I think that is the coolest name for a bone. I am considering naming my first-born ramus. Probably should leave off the pubic part.

Things I've Learned

Things I've learned in the past week:

• Nothing kills a house party faster than an elf on crutches
• Nothing makes an 80's party more than a girl on crutches dancing the flying chopsticks
• Crutches make for a great impromptu limbo session
• My roommate's towel rack is not as strong as I thought
• It doesn't hurt as bad as I thought to fall
• Red wine is an effective painkiller
• Motorized wheelchair grocery shopping is as humiliating as it sounds
  
• This would really improve my wine-tasting hobby
• No matter what time of day, Law & Order is playing on some channel
• I should let the animal in me escape
• Rolling desk chairs and rolling suitcases are effective transportation devices
• I can carry more things in my mouth than I thought
• This resulted when I googled "crutches". Coincidence? I think not.

I had a very good follow-up doctor appointment today. The shearing muscle pain has given way to a deep-seated, throbbing ache which he says is from the bone. I should expect this pain for the next few weeks as things heal. I will probably be on crutches for another 4 weeks, and won't be able to drive for a few more weeks. I figure that after a few weeks, I will be as talented as this guy:

Once I get off crutches I can begin some pool exercises, and in about 3 months I can start running again. I forgot to ask about pool running, but will bring it up at my next appointment. I reluctantly asked if I will ever be able to run another Marathon, and he says that if I train less intensely as I did for this past one, I should be able to run Honolulu next year. My doctor is awesome: he is a sports medicine specialist and told me he will do everything he can to get me running as soon as possible. In return, I had to promise him not to do any activities until he okays them. He told me that he is worried that I may be stubborn and try to do too much too soon--now what on earth gave him that idea?
I am so happy that my friend JH from the mainland is coming to visit on Wednesday for a week and a half. I feel guilty that I can't be the best Hawaii tour guide, but am considering renting a wheelchair to make things a little easier. Then again, it may be better for me to just suck it up and learn to be better on crutches. Any advice?

Again, big Mahalos to everyone who has sent me encouraging words. Every morning the first thing I do is go check my blog comments. Then, I go to my bloglines and look for everyone else's new posts! Sad, yes. But it's oh so true. Your words bring smiles to my face and help warm my frigid crutches. It's fun to look back over the few months as my blog has evolved. I started it, thinking no one would read it, but I needed an outlet for all my running thoughts. Since I'm not a journal person, I figured it would be a great way for me to keep a history of all my training. I had no idea that strangers would actually read my writing. I also had no idea how much I would rely on the supportive words of these "strangers" when things got tough. You guys provide me the support that my non-running friends, no matter how close they are to me, never could. So for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Also, I gotta plug my friend John Ellis who guest hosted this week's Phedippidations podcast. Thanks for the shout-out at the end, John! Great job on the podcast!

This sucks.

Crutches suck. Not being able to drive sucks. Not being able to do anything by myself that requires walking and hands sucks. My arms hurt. My body is in a contorted state when I stand or sit to take pressure off my pelvis. I haven't been able to shave my legs since before the marathon. I still have dirt on my toes from the marathon since I can't bend over to wash my feet. I am tired of sleeping on my back with pillows under my knees. I can no longer be susie sunshine about this f'ing injury. I am so over trying to find the good in this. I am running out of clean clothes; how am I supposed to do laundry? I am tired of being confined to my apartment. I am perpetually dehydrated since going to the bathroom takes about 15 minutes round-trip. I really wish I had gone home to the family for the holidays. I have a friend visiting in a few days: how am I supposed to play tour guide when I'm hobbling around on crutches? I had a dream last night that I was running on the beach: when my Garmin beeped that I had ran 5 miles, I had this realization that I wasn't supposed to be running since my pelvis was broken. I think I have just found my personal hell.

Honolulu Marathon Race Report, part 3

When I passed the last aid station, I knew I was home free. At mile 25 I crested the last hill, and knew I just had to go down the hill and around the bend to the finish. I began to think about what was waiting for me at the finish: beer and bacon! At that point in the race, beer and bacon was my only motivation. I decided that I would gun it for the last mile. I managed to run a sub-9 minute mile downhill. The impact going downhill was agonizing--I could feel my hips starting to lock and the buckling of my right leg was pretty severe.

Once I rounded the bend, I could see the finish line ahead. In all my pre-race visuals, I expected this part of the race to be very emotional and to have the Chariots of Fire theme song running through my head. Sadly, nothing like that happened. I vaguely remember people cheering, but like the last 14 miles of the race, everything is kind of foggy. The buckling in the last .2 miles was so bad, I lost my footing and nearly fell completely to the ground a few times. Despite the pain, I managed to cross the finish line looking strong:

As I crossed the line I broke down into tears. I'm not sure if it was from the pain, the joy of finishing, or just sheer bliss from being done with the race. I remember a volunteer asking me if I needed assistance, and I kind of just wandered away. All I wanted to do was get my hard-earned finishers shirt and medal, and make my way across the park to LuLu's to get beer and bacon with my friends. That was our agreed meeting place, and I desperately needed to see a familiar face. It was horrible crossing the finish line without anyone there to greet me.
The park was muddy and slippery, and I had a long way to go to get my finisher's goods. I cried all the way across the park, because each step was worse than the first. I remember encountering a curb and thinking I was lifting my leg, but being motionless. I think I stood there for five minutes looking from the curb to my leg and back, trying to figure out how to step up. Eventually I found a tree that I was able to wrap my arms around to hoist myself up. About 30 minutes later I made it across the block to the restaurant to greet my friends. They were shocked to see me: they thought I quit back at mile 5. After I emotionally lost it, they helped me into a chair, got me some ice, and quickly nourished me with coffee, bacon, french toast, another ranger candy, and beer. Although the pain was still bad, I felt tremendously better being around my friends. We made it back to the hotel where I proceeded to peel off my wet and smelly running shoes to do a blister check:



Check out these white, wrinkly feet!

Surprisingly, to this day I am blister-free. I think maybe I was spared because I was running so slowly. One toenail is very tender: it may be in danger of falling off.
Here's a photo of my shoes with the champion-chip alternative. Apparently there is a lot of controversy with this new timing system. Thankfully I don't think I am affected.

After we got cleaned up we celebrated with some champagne

Then went and lounged poolside for the rest of the day. Needless to say, I broke the prohibition! I think the alcohol helped dull the pain.

Then we went out for nachos, burgers, and beer! I finally got my Young's Double Chocolate Stout and Kona Pipeline Porter...pure heaven!

Monday morning I woke up at 2 am and did not feel right at all. When I tried to get out of bed I experienced the most intense pain of my life. Stabbing, searing pain shot from my groin to mid thigh. By the time I got to the bathroom the pain made my body go cold and numb from head to toe, and my vision started to fill with thousands of black dots. I remember thinking "I am going to pass out in my bathroom" and I collapsed on the toilet. I quickly came to, and realized that something was seriously wrong.

Yesterday (Thursday) I went back to the doctor's for my MRI followup appointment. Basically there is nothing to do except to let it heal on its own. For now I am to rest as much as possible until the pain subsides. The muscle pain is pretty much gone, and I am so thankful for that. The worst for me is just lying around and not doing anything. This has also screwed me up professionally: I was about to start a big experiment and can't even think of making it out to the island/research pens for many more weeks. I have a long road ahead: more MRIs (X rays aren't good if I plan on having kids someday), potential PT, bone density scans, hormone/blood tests, etc. The good news is the doctor knows how much I want to run again, and fully intends on getting me back to running as soon as possible. A lot of non-runners have said "well, at least you ran one marathon, so you got that out of your system". This experience makes me want to run another one that much sooner! Granted, I am not going to be stupid and try to do anything too fast, too soon. When I heal--and I will-- I will be very cautious about training.

Everyone's comments the past few weeks have tremendously lifted my spirits. It's been really hard going from the mindset where I thought I had a chance to BQ to being barely able to make it from bed to the bathroom. I am a firm believer that God deals you certain hands for a reason, and I think I have this one figured out. Ever since I moved to Hawaii everything has been going good--too good--for me, and I was starting to take things for granted. This has been a humbling experience and has forced me to re-evaluate things. I think this is a sign that I need to slow down and enjoy life a little more. I've been so ambitious and intense about school and training that I haven't allowed myself to fully relax and enjoy my beautiful home.

With that said, I'll leave you with one final picture. Here is my well deserved finishers medal, taken against the backdrop of my ace-bandaged thigh.

Aloha everyone, and thanks again for all your support!

Honolulu Marathon Race Report, part 2

Fireworks are a sneaky way to start a marathon. One one hand, I want to take off to get ahead of the pack; on the other half, I can't stifle my inner raccoon that wants to stand transfixed at the shiny objects. I tried to run half-turned around, but immediately had a smack-down with a determined Japanese, so I gave up and just kept running. This was my first giant race, so I was not used to the slow start. Once the crowd thinned out a bit, I felt like I was flying. My immediate thought was that I was running way too fast, so I checked the Garmin. 10:28. 10:28! WTF?!? That's a far cry from the 8:20 I felt I was running. Oh boy, this is going to be a long race. I tried to pick up the pace a bit, and maxed out my leg capabilities at 9:00. So here I am, barely half a mile into the race, and already feel like I have lost. These are not the legs that I have been training with the past 4 months. These legs are not the legs that were running 6:44 mile repeats and a 1:42:49 half marathon. My brain was ready to run at 8:30, my lungs and heart were primed to go, every muscle in my body was screaming "faster, faster!" But the line between my brain and legs appeared to be cut.
I tried to maintain my composure as people flew by me. It felt like many of the nightmares I had leading up to the race: I was barely moving and hundreds of runners were passing me. Thankfully, SM caught up to me and tried to cheer me up with some old Army chants. We ran through the first mile marker, and aside from being slower than molasses, my body felt okay. I knew he wanted to run faster, so I told him to go on without me. He and JM continued up ahead, and I was all alone.
The rain started again. It started sprinkling, and I actually enjoyed it. I thought a light rain wouldn't be so bad. Up ahead, I heard a scream start to wave its way though the crowd. I quickly found out why. All of a sudden the sky opened up and it became torrential rain.

In a way, the rain was comforting. The sounds of the rain drowned out the noise from everyone around me and helped me focus. I also thought the rain was a good omen since it poured during my awesome half-marathon. I tried to focus on the memory of that awesome race and I kept on truckin at my pathetic pace.
Around mile 3, we hit downtown and all its Hawaii Christmas glory. I had not yet been to that part of the city to see the decorations, so I was happy to see the bright lights and the Shaka Santa.

Shortly after the Christmas lights (my guess is around mile 4) things started going badly. When I realized I was running back at 10:30, I tried to pick up the pace to 9:00 again. *STAB* Oh no. *STAB* Not now. *STAB* This can't be happening. *STAB* Please, God, no. *STAB* It's too soon. *STAB* No. *STAB* Today is not that day. *STAB* Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever. *STAB* Beer. *STAB* Bacon. *STAB* Don't stop. *STAB* Keep going. *STAB* Where is SM and JB? *STAB* I can't handle this all by myself. *STAB* I need a friendly face. *STAB* I NEED A FRIENDLY FACE!
All of a sudden, I saw SM on the side, searching for me. I yell out his name, and start crying. He gives me the shaka and says "Looking good girl!" I yell out a shaky "Nooooooo". He yells "are you hurting?" I yell "Yes, and it's starting to buckle. I can't do this." Not knowing how to handle a teary girl, he quickly stammers, "Well, umm, it happens to the best of us." I found out after the race that he ran back up to JM and said "she's not going to make it. She looks bad."
So, there I am, all alone again. The leg starts to buckle. The pain is intense. Each time it starts to buckle, I try to stop from falling all the way to the ground. I figure out a system which involves arching my back to stop mid-buckle. I'm still moving. I'm still moving. As long as I can make it to Diamondhead, then I can walk. Gotta make it to Diamondhead.
I pass by the mile 5 sign. The pain is intense. Each buckle sends searing pain from my groin to my knee. I can no longer stop the buckle by arching my back. Defying my brain, my legs stop moving. I am walking. I am walking. I am walking a marathon that I should be running at least 8:30. Grandmas are passing me. No one else is walking. This is pathetic. You are pathetic. So much for an ambitious first marathon. All of a sudden, I can't walk. My legs seize up. Oh my gosh. This is it. I really am not going to finish this. I can't even walk the rest of the way? All this training for a DNF (Did Not Finish). DNF: Dumb No-good Failure.
I pull off to the side and start to stretch. The river of runners continue past me. I see some people walking, and think "Oh yes, other walkers. Good! I'm not the only one". A man asks me if I'm okay and I tell him I'm hurt. He suggests I walk backwards, and he will make sure I don't hit anyone. I tell him he's nuts. He says "just try it." I try it. He's right! The pain almost goes away! I walk facing him and we small talk. He wasn't running the race; he was support for some VIP according to his security pass. I try walking forward again: agonizing pain. I am at Diamondhead. I police officer sees me wincing and limping "Ma'am, do you need a medic? He's right over there." I didn't know this until now, but that was the deciding point of the race for me. I was right by the finish line, and could have seen a medic and waited for my friends. I started to say yes, but something (Bacon perhaps? Beer?) took ahold of me and called out "no, I'm okay." I realize that there is no way I can run this whole race backwards. I tell the man I am going to stretch and try running again. He wishes me luck, and is on his way.
I pull off onto the sidewalk to stretch. It hurts. I limp back to the course. We are confined to the lane with police tape, and I'm not sure how to safely get back in the course. I look for an opening and duck under the police tape. *WHAM!* A woman smacks me with her elbow. I stagger and limp, trying to regain my composure. I pull to the far right of the tape since I am going so slowly. A man pushes past me, spinning me to my left. My leg is on fire. I wince in pain. I get hit again. Volunteers are yelling words of encouragement at me: you can do it! don't give up! I realize that if I want to survive the stampede, I better try running. We are at the biggest hill of the race. I try running. Oddly enough, running uphill feels okay. I'm running. I'm running. Well, technically I'm barely jogging, but I'm moving. It hurts so bad, but I'm moving. I want to give up. I see and hear the friendly faces of the teenage volunteers. They sense my pain. "You go girl! You can do it! Keep it up!" They high-five me as I continue. I am not stopping now. I pass the 6 mile mark. I make it to the top of the hill. Holy crap does it hurt. I try to tune everything out. One foot in front of the other. I start calculating when I can start walking. I start thinking "If I can just make it to 11 miles...". The pain worsens as the hill levels out. I successfully navigate an aid station. I realize I am no longer getting passed. You have no idea how much that emotionally lifted me. I was in "a group". Granted, I was the only Caucasian as far as I could see, but I finally had a group to run with. I kept my eyes on the shorts in front of me and tried to stick with the pack. At mile 9 I decide to take another ranger candy. I knew it was very risky, especially since the first 800 mg of Ibuprofen was still in my system, but I knew I had to do it. As soon as it kicked in, things started going numb in my right leg, which at the time I thought was good. Retrospectively, losing feeling probably was part of the whole fracture thing. I don't know exactly when the fracture occurred, but I bet it was just prior to the numbness. My guess is that the excruciating pain was right before the bone snapped; once it snapped, I lost feeling in that leg.
Here's a shot of the big downhill right after mile 9:

From mile 9 till the Kalaniana'ole Highway (about mile 11) everything is kind of fuzzy. Once I got on the highway I was back in familiar territory, and kept chugging along. Around the half marathon mark I threw out my back. My back was arching to catch myself with each buckling of the leg, and just couldn't take it anymore. When I tried to walk through a waterstop at the halfway mark, my hips and back immediately locked up, and I had to yell to myself "MOVE! MOVE!" to start running again. I had to apologize to the people in front of me, because they thought I was yelling at them! I quickly realized that there was no way I would walk through another aid station.

The rest of the Kalaniana'ole Highway is kind of a blur. Around mile 16 I had this moment of realization that I was running farther than any training run, and that I may finish this race afterall. Once I got past the 20 mile mark I remember thinking that I would absolutely finish the race. I kept hoping to hit the wall, but it never happened with the pathetic pace I was running at. I think this photo was taken around the 20 mile mark. Although the resolution is bad, you can clearly see my grimace.

Once I made it through the lowlands of Kahala, I approached the final hill of the race. People were screaming from the sidelines, bands were playing, runners were starting to celebrate. I started tearing up: I was finishing! I was finishing!

Holy Crap

My pelvis is broken. You can see one of the breaks in the photo above (I asked for a copy of my films). See that clear line in my bone, surrounded by a big white area? Yup, fracture. Also my whole hip/leg is completely swollen thanks to the edema (bleeding) in the area. I had no idea...I don't have any external bruising...maybe it's because I have had a compression bandage the past few days? According to the radiologist I broke my inferior and superior pelvic ramus. That means that two bones--complete fracture. The radiologist thinks it was a stress fracture before the marathon, and the clean fracture happened during the race. He couldn't believe that I ran the marathon. He said that he has only seen this type of fracture in car crash victims. I don't know anything else right now--I will see my doc tomorrow. What's scary is that the doc said this isn't supposed to happen to people my age, and I should get a bone density scan. All I know is I am F*CKED. Sorry to use that language, but I think it is warranted here. Since my roomates suck and haven't asked me once if there is anything they can do to help, even as they see me crying just trying to get a glass of water, I am moving in with some friends for a few days. I don't think it has emotionally hit me yet, as I keep cracking jokes about it. I just feel really out of it and nauseous. I'll update you when I hear more.

Honolulu Marathon Race Report, Part 1

The day before the marathon, Saturday morning, I slept in and headed out for my prescribed 2 mile test run. The park was insane: mobs of Japanese runners in their training groups, with leaders carrying giant banners. It looked like some kind of scary political rally. I rounded the corner at the beginning of my run and saw the finish line ahead. Although the Japanese were running across the finish line with their arms raised, I thought it would be bad luck so I veered off at the last minute. About a half mile into my run, I started feeling twinges of pain. I wasn't sure if it was true pain, or just a manifestation of my groin obsession, but I stopped running immediately and walked back to my car. I went home and began the heat/stretch/ice regimen. My phone was ringing off the hook with people wanting to know the status of my injury, and I told them all the same story: that the prognosis wasn't good, and I would just run as far as possible and walk the rest of the way.
I started getting my raceday outfit ready: Nike singlet, Nike tempotrack shorts, Adidas socks, my Mizuno Wake Creations, Nike Visor, Sunglasses (which I didn't take on raceday afterall), gummi bears, and my faithful Garmin. The top and shorts I have worn to every successful race, so I decided to be a bit superstitious.

After laying all my race gear on my bed and checking it three times, I packed up and headed to my friend's place for a pancake lunch. My friend SM was trying to cheer me up and pulled out some memorabilia from his first marathon: he framed his bloody sock, sponge, and finishers medal. After getting a good laugh out of that, I started feeling confident. We headed to the Hilton, as SM decided to get us a room so we would be a few blocks from the starting line. Once we got checked in, we headed to the pool for some relaxation. After enjoying another beautiful Hawaiian sunset, we went out for our carb-fest. I ate quite possibly the blandest dish- basically it was pasta with a chicken broth sauce-because I didn't want to risk anything greasy, dairy, or meaty. I always have really bad GI issues the morning of a race, and knew that porta-potty lines would be an issue. I was praying that all the carbs would um, put a cork in things.
After going back to the hotel, I took a nice hot shower and proceeded to bust out the sharpie for some motivation for the race. I originally was going to put one quotation on my arm, but then decided I needed to add additional motivators for when things got hairy.

On my left arm I wrote the latter half of my favorite quotation: "There will be a day when you can no longer do this---today is not that day". On my left hand I wrote "beer". On my right hand: "bacon" and on my right arm: "Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever." Please note that I am not responsible for the errors on my right hand. Being right handed, I had SM write, and I quickly learned he probably wasn't his school's spelling champ. I also realized that having writing on my arms may motivate me to run further. I would look like such a pansy with "Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever" if I had to start walking in the first few miles!
Before I turned in for the evening, I took a photo from our window. Just across the harbor is the park where the starting line for the race is.

After double-checking my raceday wear, we set our wakeup call and cell phones for 3 am, and tried to get sleep. I slept very fitfully, waking up every half hour or so. As soon as the alarm went off I bounded out of bed to get my breakfast in as soon as possible. John suggested I get some protein and fat to help regulate my glucose levels during the race (as mentioned in Phedippidations episode on marathon nutrition). Although chicken strips are best, I rarely eat meat as it is and never ate meat before a run. Actually, I only eat before races. When I run in the morning, even on my longest long runs, I head out with an empty belly. I settled on eating a banana, half a whole wheat/PB sandwich, and 8 oz of soymilk. Here I am enjoying my decadent breakfast in bed. Note the digital clock reads 3:14.

I also did something very very bad. Before I continue, I need to apologize to John because I went against his advice and took Ibuprofen before the race. I took what my military friend SM calls "ranger candy": 800 mg. I know that was risky, and I'm sure ended up doing me more harm than good, but I was willing to try anything to run the marathon. So John, I am so sorry!
Here's SM showing the ranger candy, along with rolaids and vaseline: his race-day prep.

I packed two baggies of gummy bears counted so each bag had 27 grams of carbs, and pinned them to my shorts. Since I am a poor graduate student, I can't afford gels and the like, so gummy bears were my emergency fuel source. I only needed them a few times during training. Even on my long runs, I rarely felt like I needed the boost, mainly because I drank Gatorade on runs over 8 miles. For the marathon, however, I told myself that regardless of my energy level, I would consume the gummy bears throughout the race. I approached fueling as I did hydration: consume it before you need it. After I finished pinning my gummy bear crack bags I made another first aid crack bag with a single ranger candy and two bandaids.
After getting my baggies in line, I pinned on my number and dealt with my timing chip. I was expecting an actual championchip like they used last year, but instead we had these flexible plastic tags that had the timing chip embedded within them.
While my friends SM and JB decided to lube up with vaseline, I opted out. I had never trained in full lube mode, and did not want to try anything new for the race. Additionally, SM got into his stylish glad attire (trash bag) but I decided I wouldn't need it. Once we were all set to go, we paused for some photos, and I am so glad we took the time to do so: right when we were about to leave, the sky opened up and it poured.
I quickly changed my mind on the gladware decision.


We got to the starting line area around 4:30, and JM and I popped a squat behind a banyan tree instead of dealing with the portapotty lines. Thankfully, my carb-loading was giving me additional benefits: no stomach upset of any kind!
We managed to weasel our way towards the front of the starting line about 15 minutes before the gun went off. The weather proceeded to get worse. The microphone to the announcer kept cutting out, and we didn't even hear the gun go off. One moment I was talking to SM and JB, then the next thing I know...boom! Fireworks! The race has begun! (The following pictures are from the Honolulu Advertiser)

Hurt but Healing

Thank you everyone for your uplifting comments; you have no idea how much those mean to me. I saw all the comments when my pain was at its worst, and it made everything a lot more bearable. I can't do a race report yet since my friend still has my camera, but I promise you'll get a lengthy play-by-play with plenty of pictures.
Last night was horrendous: I now know what a pain level of 10 feels like. I kept waking every 30 mins because it hurt just to lie; when I woke up at 2 am I felt nauseous and tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom to puke. The pain when I tried to move my right leg was indescribable. By the time I got to the bathroom my body went cold and numb from head to toe and my vision was full of millions of black dots. I remember thinking "I am going to pass out on the floor" and caught myself on the toilet. Thankfully I quickly recovered. I made a smart move to the couch (easier to get up and down from than my high bed) and propped my legs at a 90-degree angle with pillows. That allowed me to get a little more sleep before the sun came up. Thankfully my landlady had extra crutches lying around, which made my life a little easier. I caught a ride to the doctor, and was able to see a sports medicine specialist. He was more interested in what caused the injury to begin with, and brought up the stress fracture factor. One thing that I haven't really talked about is that ever since I started training, I have been amenorrheic. I asked a general doc about this is August and her response was that it wasn't a big deal and I shouldn't worry about it until after the marathon. When I mentioned this to the doc today, he was shocked. He said that it absolutely was a big deal, and as soon as I figure out what's going on with my leg we need to get that taken care of. It's kind of a mystery to me, because I am in the normal BMI range and eat plenty of food, but it is certainly something that I need to get taken care of. Anyways, I am getting (another) MRI on Wednesday, barring my insurance company approves. I am pretty confident it is only a muscle problem because that muscle is swollen to about twice its normal size. Regardless, I want to play it safe, so I'll go get the friggin MRI. The doctor wrapped my thigh with an ace bandage, which felt like a warm cocoon of healing. The only thing that feels better? The tylenol with codeine he gave me! Whee!
I can now maneuver my way from the couch to the bathroom a lot easier than this morning. I have been lying on the couch all day, and am bored out of my mind. I am already planning my next marathon...Big Sur, anyone?

Sheer Agony

Quick update; I'll work on my race report tomorrow. The pain kicked in at mile 4. My legs started buckling with each step at mile 5. I walked for half a mile, then somehow started running again and never stopped. Pain was excruciating: legs went numb at mile 9, threw out my back from an awkward gait at mile 13. I crossed the finish line sobbing from the pain, and can't move my right leg without physically lifting it with my hands. I am going to pick up my finishers certificate tomorrow, then go promptly to the doctor to get a PT referral and some strong muscle relaxants. With each step I take I hear/feel a big pop in my right groin area. Oh, did I mention it poured throughout the race? Time to go to bed...praying I can actually move in the am.

On your marks, get set....

I have fantastic news to report: all systems are a go! I did my first run today since last Sunday's fiasco. I walked for 10 minutes, then ran 20 minutes virtually pain free! I'm not completely home free, since I ran very slowly and did have some discomfort. But, unlike a few days ago, it wasn't a sharp pain. I was able to let my mind drift off and take in the scenery: I ran around the park that has the finish line of the marathon, and visualized success as I crossed the finish line area and the finishers tent.

Yesterday I went to my first marathon expo with my running pals. It was certainly interesting, and definitely tailored towards the Japanese. They have come in full force: 57% of the participants this year are Japanese. The first sign that this race is tailored towards Asians came at the Nike booth:

Asian fit? They might as well say: fat-a$$ Americans need not apply. After looking at all the marathon merchandise, then realizing it will probably all be on sale at Niketown in a few weeks, we continued to the photo stage:




And, just because, here's a giant mushroom. The Japanese tourists found us very amusing. What you can't see are the 5 other gentlemen taking the same photo on their cameras:

And, of course, you can't forget the cowbell. This will be very useful for calling my man-servant for beer after the marathon. Oh wait, that's right. You have to have a man before you can have a man-servant. Any volunteers?



Oh, and I did buy the stick which I know will be used often after the marathon!

Since I am officially done with my classes for the semester, I have a lot of waiting around to do, and plenty of time to worry about the marathon. This has resulted in a nasty headache and loss of appetite over the past few days. Since I basically haven't been running for the past 2 weeks, I have put on a few pounds, and feel really heavy. Those extra pounds definitely won't help me in the marathon. As much as I don't want to eat, I know that I need to force myself to eat so I can go into this race as well-fueled as possible. I've been eating oatmeal with bananas, quinoa, and my favorite, Okinawan sweet potatoes.

Tonight I have a party at my Church, so the meal is up in the air. I know this is risky, as two nights' dinner before a marathon is supposed to be the most important, but as long as I stay away from greasy foods and dairy, I should be okay.
My running pals decided to book a room at the Hilton Hawaiian Village Saturday night, which is about 2 blocks from the starting line (Did I mention the gun goes off at 5am?). We are going to check in early on Saturday and spend the afternoon hydrating and moving as little as possible. After the marathon, we are going to go back to the hotel for showers and a Champagne celebration! I plan to spend the rest of the day lying by the beach with some alcoholic beverage in hand.
So, this is the last post from me until the marathon is over. I plan on taking lots of pictures of the pre-race preparation and post-race celebration. I am hoping that I don't have to stop and walk for many reasons. One of the main reasons is I want to feel the infamous wall. I am really curious as to how that will feel, and how I can push through it. I am counting on the adrenaline of the day blocking out any pain I will feel from my injury. No matter what happens though, it will all be okay. I should be proud that I have trained so hard for so long. Even though I may not run the race that I planned, I have done all the preparation possible. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers Sunday starting at 10am Eastern: Frayed Laces will need all the help she can get!

Bring on the pain!

Let the carb-loading begin.
That's it. I'm going for it. I don't care how much it hurts. I am going to try. I am going to give it my all. After reading this article yesterday, I realized it really won't be that embarrassing if I have to walk, since it seems like that will be the popular thing to do.
It would be very cowardly and juvenile of me to avoid the race just because I think I might not be able to finish. If I acted this way with everything else in my life, I would not be in Hawaii right now pursuing my professional dreams.
So, now I need all the mental ammo possible to make it through this race. I know lots of you have run through intense pain before: what worked for you? Any and all suggestions about what to do in these days leading up to the race as well as what to do during the race would be appreciated. With these two injuries I've had, I was told to stop running as soon as pain set in to prevent further injury. With the marathon, that won't be an issue (within reason). How can you force yourself to run through pain, and at what point should you throw in the towel?