Could you kindly take those voo-doo pins out of the left side of my body?

I've figured it out. I'm on to you, hater.

The left side of my body is the only side that has given me trouble. I sprained my left ankle years ago, and occasionally I still have a feeling of "looseness" there after a long run. My left calf is the one that had the muscle strain; the left kneecap is the one that's been tingling lately. It actually hurt me today during my 11 mile training run, and after over-hearing me blurt out an expletive when I felt a "popping" sensation, my coach insisted I stop and get a ride home because once your knee is trouble, you're pretty much out of the game.

What I've figured is that I've really hurt or angered someone who has witchcraft powers, and they've made a small doll of me and are stabbing the left side of it again and again with a needle.

Maybe it was that nice elderly couple who I've run into, deliberately, when they ignored my requests to please move out of the way.

Maybe it was the mother at Wal-Mart who called her 2 year old a motherf&*% and smacked him on the arm. I looked her right in the eye with total disgust and said in a loud, cheerful voice, "What an adorable child you have. Aren't you lucky?"

Maybe it was the waitress at the Japanese restaurant who, a half hour or more after taking my order, long after the people I was dining with had been given their meals, gave me a platter of all white fish sushi when I specifically told her I wanted the number 7 but with no  white fish, please. I let her have it. My coworkers still talk about how I can go "sushi style" when encountered with incompetent service; as far as I knew, though, there were no consequences to demanding of a bad waitress, "Did it ever occur to you that you're in the wrong line of work??" aside from regret later on that I'd been such a snot. But maybe she went into the kitchen after my tirade and voo-dooed me in.

I'm not saying I didn't have the voo-doo coming. I'm generally a nice person (honestly, I am!!) but I definitely have my moments of passive-aggressive malice, kind of a non-driving road rage that slow-moving walkers, abusive mothers and bad sushi waitresses tend to inspire.

But I get it. I need to calm down, and be nicer. Voo-doo practioner, O powerful one, I promise I will.

So could you please remove the pins from my left leg? I've got some major mileage ahead of me and I can't do it if my knee truly is in trouble. Right now, I'm looking at taking a few days off.

It's possible, I think, that my body is just very, very tired. But those pins sure aren't helping.

Not the knees!

Thus far in my marathon training, I have suffered--and recovered--from the following conditions:

1. Shin splints
2. Oozing, bloody blisters
3. IBS attacks brought on after long distance runs
4. Calf muscle strain

Until a few days ago, I was plagued by #4, so I'd made an appointment with my orthopedist. But right after I made that appointment, I began using Zensah compression socks during my runs, and the two month-old calf injury finally and quite suddenly bid me adieu.

I was going to call to cancel the appointment, but just in case my lack of calf pain was a momentary reprieve, I thought I'd wait until the day it was scheduled just to make sure my calf still felt fine after my morning run.

My calf indeed felt fine.

But my knees (both of them) were tingling.

Not hurting, but tingling.

I live in fear of injured knees. I'm a "toe runner" so the injuries I'm most prone to are calf problems; "heel runners" are more likely to have knee, achilles and hip problems, my ortho says. And for this I consider myself lucky: a calf injury is a lot easier to train around than a knee problem.

For someone training for a long-distance event like a marathon or half marathon, in fact, a knee injury can be the kiss of death.

So I kept the appointment so I could get the tingling checked out. My doctor examined my calf (and affirmed that it had healed) as well as my knee...which he promptly diagnosed with the beginnings of "chondromalacia patella," or "runner's knee," which is an irritation of the undersurface of the kneecaps.

Oh no. Not the knees!

The doctor then told me that unlike my previous injuries, this one I was developing was actually quite serious. If it got more painful, I would have to stop running altogether, or else I could end up needing surgery that might sideline me from running indefinitely.

I sat there with my teeth chattering. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"So you say you've only had this tingling sensation since you began wearing compression hose?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Just stop wearing your compression hose. Now that your calf is healed, there really isn't any reason to wear them anymore."

Phew. Not wearing garish purple hose while running v. wearing them and possibly destroying my kneecaps...hmmmm, not a tough decision.

I had told the doctor--proudly, actually--that the compression hose had changed the way I ran, so that I was using my upper legs more and putting less pressure on my toes. I thought this was a good thing; I'd been reading a book on why it was better to run with your head forward, neck elongated and less pressure on your lower legs.

But according to my orthopedist, converting from being a toe runner to a heel runner was what probably caused my kneecap irritation in the first place and that I should go back to how I was running before I wore the socks, because that clearly had worked for me.

Right now I'm wearing the Zensahs as a recovery tool, in between runs. But tomorrow when I do my own little turkey trot around my neighborhood (I'm not signed up for any of the local 5ks), I'll be doing it naked-legged.

My new Zensah-ation

I was on the verge of spending hundreds of dollars on sports rehab, in a desperate attempt to find a solution to my two-month-old pulled calf muscle injury (which still was hurting in a way that no two-month-old injury should hurt.)

"It will be about one-fifty for the first session, then you'll need a half hour session every other day for two weeks, and those will run you $75," said the charming sports rehab doctor, after breaking the devastating news to me that his clinic didn't take my insurance.

Those "sessions," he warned me, would involve something that sounded "medeival." He was going to use shiny metal devices on my left calf to break up the scar tissue that was preventing my calf strain from healing.

I asked if it would hurt and he paused for a moment and replied, "It hurts so good."

Huh.

I told him I'd sleep on it, and the next day at my Team in Training practice, I asked my mentor about this clinic, because Doctor Hurts-So-Good had listed her as one of his patients.

"Oh, he's the best," she raved, causing me to ponder whether the expression "marathon runners can be masochists" was sometimes literal rather than metaphorical. "But if you have a calf strain, why not just wear compression hose?"

Compression hose. Those ugly purple Zensah socks I'd bought, wore once before I actually had the calf strain injury, and then decided I already looked clownish enough between my bright orange shoes and pastel running skirts to add Olive Oyl-like hose to the mix?

Yeah, I guess I could try them again.

I tried them out for the first time on Sunday, and after I got used to the sensation of running with my calves bound, making me feel like some small animal was grabbing onto my legs and squeezing them as I ran, I have to say I am a fan of my Zensahs. Although I didn't like it at first, the pressure on my calves actually forced me to run using better form: falling forward, shoulders relaxed and neck long, rather than putting the weight in my calves and running with my upper body all scrunched up. (I knew what proper form was, thanks to my father-in-law Lou, who gave me a book on the Alexander Method, but have to admit it's been hard to kick the habit of running hard on my legs--which is probably what got me into this calf strain mess in the first place.)

So, miraculously, one ten mile run later, the pain is pretty much gone. Not better, but gone! I just asked my husband to press right in the spot that had been so tender before that if he accidentally kicked me there in bed in the middle of the night, I'd scream out in agony. He pressed, and I felt nothing. I don't know where the pain went, but I can't say I miss it.

I'm so relieved that I didn't need to have the scar tissue tortured out of me with stainless steel devices ("hurts so good" indeed) to the tune of almost a thousand dollars.

I just wish Zensah offered the socks in my size in a color other than purple. (Not the pinkish color pictured above; we're talking Flying Purple People Eater grape.)  I'm starting to think that the universe is conspiring to make me look as absurd as possible when I run. It makes me feel a little bit like a court jester--and look a lot like one.

Just call me Chumbawumba.

Remember Chumbawumba? Think back to the summer of '98. They had this catchy drinking song, "I get knocked down, but I get up again..." Well, that's officially my theme song (since we're talking about the late 90s, I guess I have Ally McBeal and her theme song on the brain.)

I'm not talking about mixing whiskey and vodka, falling down and then gathering myself up and staggering upwards again--though I have to say that a week after running a half-marathon, my runs have felt kind of like a slow, drunken stagger. But what I mean is that something gets hard, the asphalt kicks me instead of me kicking the asphalt, and I get down. Then I get up again, and I keep going.

I couldn't do 16 yesterday. I couldn't do 4.1, to be precise. But today I slept in, had a banana, peanut butter and some strong coffee, laced up and ran 9.5 on my own. (I meant to do 10 but I mis-mapped.) The last time I tried to do anything in the 9-10 range on my own, I had to walk home, but this time it was actually easy.

Five miles into the run I stopped feeling cranky and burned out and realized I was back to my old rhythm. Buh-bye, burn-out. I actually wish I hadn't used that word. I'm sure one day I truly will be burned out, but yesterday, I just needed a day off.

I'm really proud of my 9.5. I'm sure I would have been very proud of 16, but yesterday, it just wasn't meant to be. I used to be the kind of person who accepted nothing less than excellence from herself, but now I'm starting to learn that a crappy training run happens to everyone. To me, this is the most life-changing thing about running. You learn to just get over things that have you down. One failure doesn't define your life. It just becomes part of the process.

Burn out.

So today I was supposed to run 16 miles. The only problem was that 3 1/2 miles into my run, I had a mental temper tantrum where I declared I hated running, was sick of waking up at 4 am to run for hours, suffering from stomach issues and sore legs the rest of the day, and would much rather be planted on a couch sleeping, eating ice cream, or both.

A half mile later I was at my car with tears in my eyes. I went home and told my husband that I was disappointed in myself for being a quitter. He told me that I was hardly a quitter; hadn't I just run a half-marathon six days earlier?? Maybe I was just tired.

Maybe I was. So I went to sleep. And when I woke up, I decided that no, I didn't hate running. In fact, I still loved it. Waking up at 4 am once a week isn't all that bad, and the soreness and tummy problems are things I've gotten very accustomed to shrugging off, because usually the sense of accomplishment I get from these long runs overrides these complaints.

But sometimes you have to listen to the complaints. Sometimes you need a break. I'm not sure how long my break will last, but today I certainly needed it.

People have been warning me for months of "burn out" and I always shrugged it off, thinking it was mind over matter. But there's definitely a physical component to burn out, so I'm going to need to ride this break out and practice the New-Agey sounding art of  "listening to my body." I'm afraid that if I don't, it simply will go on strike.

My Review of Nike+ Women's LunarGlide Running Shoe

Originally submitted at The Sports Authority

The Nike+® women's LunarGlide running shoe is ideal for the runner with a neutral to mildly overpronated gait. The shoe delivers plush cushioning, springy response, barely-there comfort and mild pronation control. The mesh upper offers lightweight breathability, while the OrthoLite® s...

Nike+ Women's LunarGlide Running Shoe

Great running shoe for flat feet!

By run-jorie-run.blogspot.com from South Florida on 11/19/2009

 

5out of 5

Sizing: Feels true to size

Width: Feels true to width

Pros: Lightweight, Stable, Comfortable, Flexible, Good Traction, Breathable, Absorbs Shock

Cons: Wears Out Quickly

Best Uses: Pavement, Wet Conditions, Gym, Track

Describe Yourself: Gym Rat

Arch Type: Low Arch

I ran my first half marathon in these Lunarglides and love them! I have very difficult feet. They are flat, but I am a neutral runner. I am now training for my first marathon and rack up a lot of mileage, and the Lunarglides have served me well. I don't get shin splints and even my plantar fascitis doesn't act up--with no orthodics! My one complaint is that I'm buying a second pair after just 260 miles on the first pair. So they wear out fast. That being said, they offer me the most comfortable, blister and shin splint free runs, so it's worth it to me to go back to the same brand/make.

(legalese)

Happy race pictures from Sunday's 13.1

OK, yes, I did get dressed in the dark that morning--but hey, at least I'm smiling in these race pictures! (In previous races, I've looked distraught, queasy, and mad.)

Note to self: next time lay out race gear the night before to avoid teal/grape-purple combination, especially because my shoes are white and orange. If there were an atheletic version of "What Not to Wear," I'd be a good candidate in these pictures!