This is big, people. Call it commonsensical, but I’m a twentysomething woman. Celebrate these crazy huge realizations with me.

That said, there are still times when you need to be able to take a step back, recognize that things can be unfair and give yourself a small amount of time to wallow in self pity. And it’s not taking a step back or falling off a positivity wagon. It’s being human and dealing with what that involves.

All this from running? Like I’ve been saying, it’s not just about putting one foot in front of another over and over again. And that’s a good thing, because my running situation put my running-prompted philosophy to the test yesterday, when I went to have my knee examined by an orthopedic specialist and was told that training for the marathon wasn’t a good idea for my body right now.

Long story short: if I can’t run in a week, I’m supposed to get back in touch with the doctor, at which point I’ll get to experience the fun of MRIs and whatnot. In the meantime, it still seems to be an IT band issue, albeit one that has left me unable to run and in a good amount of pain when I walk. Or sit in one place for too long. Or try bending my knee. Don’t even get me started about going down large sets of stairs.

There’s a whole list of different things that I need to do before I can get into serious training mode for a marathon. Stretching, strength training, specific exercises and moves that are supposed to help get the left side of my lower body back in working order. There might wind up being new shoes or custom orthodotics. I basically have to wait until the pain goes away before I can start running and then I have to take a much slower approach to building up mileage so that I can run distances without all of this happening.

I took all of this in during my appointment, asked appropriate questions, went home and called Dana-Farber to tell them that I would have to withdraw from the marathon team, but that I would be reapplying for 2011. I got in touch with the various people who had been sending me wishes of luck and support for the appointment, as they knew it was a big day for me. I settled in to finish the work I’d missed because of the appointment.

And then I cried and wallowed. I went to the liquor store, bought a bottle of wine, waited for my friend Rachel to come over and keep my disappointed self company, ordered Chinese food and watched My So-Called Life.

That was the appropriate thing for me to do in that moment. But now it’s about spinning this into something positive. So when I woke up today, I did so confident in the fact that I didn’t fail or lose by accepting that my body needs certain things before I can reach my goal of running Boston. The timeline changed, but the goal remains the same. When I cross the line, I’m going to do so with a smile on my face, without pain in my knee and secure in the knowledge that I didn’t give up.

Operation 26.2 is going to take a little shift – from DFMC to the process of getting back into the game and working toward my personal marathon goals. But in the meantime, I’m still going to be cheering for and supporting DFMC 2010, especially one particular runner. My friend Ashley is running – please support her endeavors!

It’s an odd sensation, realizing that you are probably completely accurate in your assessment of a stranger’s fitness challenges. I am confident that, had I turned to look at her and said mentioned IT bands, she would have rolled eyes in exasperation and replied with, “How much does THIS suck?”

Answer: it sucks immensely.

I’ve never been injured before. I’ve been lucky and always knew that I was lucky. And while my IT issues aren’t an Injury, it’s limiting. It’s frustrating. And it’s requiring me to commit to working my butt off so I can train to work my butt off on the marathon.

The silver lining? This is proving to me how badly I want this and how much I’m willing to work to get there. I’m now focusing on strengthening parts of my body that have always been weak. I’m committed to making myself better, stronger and, ultimately, faster.

I want this.

For the first time, success is going to require really gritting my teeth and getting to it.

The knee felt great and my body was wired despite my complete inability to sleep the night before. I felt like a runner ready to take on the course. I’d trained, prepared and psyched myself up, and the confidence was only bolstered by the text messages I was receiving from friends and loved ones.

(Know a runner? Send them an encouraging text before a big race. It does make a difference.)

I was blaring Kevin Rudolf (“Let It Rock”), Jay-Z and Linkin Park (“Points of Authority/99 Problems”) as I made my way down Jersey Street to Roberto Clemente Field, where I laced up, pinned, stretched and quelled the jitters that were starting to set in. When the horn sounded, my part of the 5,000 runner field cheered and began to bounce up and down as we walked our way up to the starting line and took off past the crowd of well-wishers on either side that created a gauntlet of positive energy that put a grin on my face I couldn’t repress.

The pace was slow during the first stretch, as the field was thick with runners committed to not overdoing it at the start. I wove my way in and out a bit over the course of the first two miles, all the while conscious of the fact that it’s easy to accidentally adopt a faster pace than you should. The adrenaline and competitive spirit can cut time off your pace that you come to regret in the later miles.

All in all, however, I was feeling good. Confident. Settled into a pace that allowed me to enjoy the signs that were on display, the clusters of friends and loved ones peppered along the route to cheer for a specific runner or – and this is truly awesome – to just cheer on all the runners. I saw a little girl clutching a sign that said, “HOORAY!” as she and her family cheered everyone on.

The field grew less dense and the crowds thinned as we made our way along, but the weather was perfect – sunny and warming up, but still a gorgeous autumn day – as I realized that I was feeling AWESOME. I knew that the knee would begin to bother me at some point, so I elected to make the most of the time I had and increase my pace. It was all about strategy: if it came to be that I would have to slow down my pace or walk, I’d be able to have more time with which to work and still reach the finish line before my 2 hour 30 minutes deadline.

We wove our way along until we were crossing the Forrest Hills overpass. The view of the Boston skyline was gorgeous, putting into context how far we’d come. Crossing paths with the elite runners making their way back home, we all made a point to cheer at the top of our lungs for them. They were faster, but we looked like we were having more fun.

After the first ten or so elite folks passed by, I focused again on continuing my way through Franklin Zoo to the halfway point…

…at which point the knee started to hurt.

Nonononononononono.

Technically, I had two options: push through or stop and have someone take me back to the finish line. But really, I had one option.

I don’t not finish things.

So the second half of my first half marathon experience was pretty much agony. I hobbled, jobbled (which is what I now refer to as hobbling and jogging at the same time), walked with a look that I hope was more “Eyes of the Tiger” than “pissed off girl” and otherwise counted down the miles that stood between me and my medal. I passed other walkers. Others passed me. Spectators cheered me on, some offering up the ultimate runner lie – “You look great!” – but one saying exactly what I needed to hear when she yelled, “YOU ARE SO STRONG!”

Truth. I was strong. I was running 6.5 miles on one freakin’ leg.

The pain intensified as I continued. What started with my knee spread up and down my leg until I could feel it at my hip and my calf. Whenever I thought to myself that I might not be able to finish, my stubborn side kicked in and told the rest of me to shut up. I had time to work with and I’d worked too damn hard to get to this point and give up. My plan was to power walk the last mile up until the bend in the road that signified the approach to the finish line. My family and roommate would be there and I wanted them to see me running.

About a quarter mile before the bend, that plan flew out the window.

“VICKIE!”

Oh, balls. I turned to see my mother waving. “HOW’S THE LEG?”

“IT HURTS!” OK, run time.

I jogged as best I could up until the bend in the road, at which point the crowd thickened. “You’re almost there!” “You’re so close!” “KEEP MOVING!” I found myself responding, my legs picking up the pace and the adrenaline flooding for one last push so that I could run to the finish line and get myself my medal, some water and hugs from my loved ones.

I’ve run races where I’ve finished strong. But I don’t think I’ve been as proud to finish strong as I did on Sunday. Even though my time wasn’t what I would want in a normal situation (2:22:50), I like to think that the half showed not only what I’m capable of now, but what I’m going to be capable of in future runs – whether another half, the 15k I’m running on Nov. 1 in Chicago or in April when I take on the full marathon.

This is what I did hurt? Just you wait to see what I do healthy.

Runner’s high is so remarkable that you wish everyone could experience it. As such, you wind up talking about it a lot. You compare notes with others who’ve experienced it. You use it to motivate runners who are struggling and you use it to encourage people who are just starting to think about going for a jog.

You don’t hear so much about the tough times, aches and pains. For example, there’s the fact that I’m sitting here right now, icing the knee that’s been sore since mile 8 of the half marathon on Sunday. I have a run-provided cold and I’ve been spending most of my time at home working to work out the muscles that are tight and aching. I’m downing my regular doses of ibuprofen and I’m mixing Emergen-C with my orange juice. My roommate’s been busy listening to me grimace and groan my way through the last few days.

Runners don’t tend to tell you about the devices they buy to keep themselves in decent shape. Beyond the gym memberships, running sneakers, clothes (shorts, tanks, tees, tights, jackets, hats) and running playlists, you buy things referred to as the Stick and the Roller. I have a small ball that I have to squeeze between my knees.

(I know, right? It’s like the Thighmaster, only not.)

I have ankle weights and a stretching band. Braces galore. I own a hydration belt, which really is as dorky as it sounds. And when something’s acting up, there are the physical therapy and doctor’s appointments I’ve been juggling these last few weeks.

There are bruises, muscle pulls, tendonitis, blisters, chafing, dizzy spells and cramping.

And know what? I’m sitting here waiting for the chance to get back out there and do some running. Because all that is better than the idea of not doing it.

Seriously? Runner’s high. It’s that good.

Tomorrow, let’s talk about a half marathon.

OK, let’s stick with the positive part. At least I was a winner on Sunday!

(I’m still bitter about the Sox. I will be until April.)

I’ll be jotting down my thoughts about the actual run within the next day or two, but trying to form thoughts that actually make sense has been difficult since Monday morning. It has been proven that people who run long distances often become more susceptible to colds or illness in the days following the run – and that definitely happened to me. As such, I’m loopy right now. Thank you, cold medicine.

That said, pictures are worth thousands of words, right?

Outside Fenway post-run! Photo by Jess.

Clearly I was alone in my Red Sox love growing up.

]]> http://operation262.com/2009/10/14/halfway-there/feed/ 0 Victoria mefenway parents http://operation262.com/2009/10/10/prep-and-perks/ http://operation262.com/2009/10/10/prep-and-perks/#comments Sat, 10 Oct 2009 03:41:31 +0000 Victoria http://operation262.com/?p=23 ]]> My IT band has been giving me a hard time over the course of the last couple of weeks – not a good thing at any point, but particularly as I was trying to get everything together to run my first half marathon, the BAA Half Marathon, which is set for this Sunday morning. After a trip to the doctor, a couple of rounds of physical therapy, stretching, icing, resting, elevating, ingesting a lot of ibuprofen, compressing and the initial agony of foam rolling (a process that pretty much left me feeling like this), I was starting to feel pretty OK.

A running friend recommended to me booking a sports massage at the Boston Bodyworker, a massage clinic that features a special focus on highly active individuals. These people speak running, I was told, and can help prep the body for the activity and demands that are necessary to get the job done.

We’ll see how I am on Sunday when I run my half, but I am already greatly impressed with the sports massage performed by Amy Duverger, LMT, NCTMB. Not only did Amy work the muscles in my legs, she offered stretching and training tips. And she’s running the half on Sunday, too! I left the massage feeling calm, relaxed and ready for Sunday’s challenge.

While I’ve been busy preparing myself for Sunday, someone else decided to show me that good thoughts are coming my way. Upon arriving home, I was surprised to find a package waiting for me. Beth, one of my best friends and my former roommate up in Vermont, sent me brownies from Sugardaddy’s Sumptuous Sweeties, personalized with a card wishing me luck and happy carb loading.

As it turns out, life is better with a Cinnamon Blonde Sweetie. This is running motivation that I can definitely get behind.

I keep saying this with the hope that it starts to sound more natural. I’m running the Boston Marathon in April. The marathon. The Boston one.

I’ve begun to share the news. “I’m running Boston next year.” “Mark your calendars. You have plans for Marathon Monday.” “Heartbreak Hill hasn’t met the likes of me yet!”

What makes the journey I am beginning special is that I’m not just going to be training for a marathon. I am about to join a team endeavoring to take on an even bigger challenge than Boston 2010. I am running and training as a member of the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team, a group that is working to raise $4.4 million over the course of this process. All of the money raised in the DFMC running of Boston 2010 will go to the Claudia Adams Barr Program in Innovative Basic Cancer Research. I am working to raise $6,500 between now and April.

We’re doing our part, essentially, in helping innovators in cancer research better help and care for those currently battling the disease and ultimately find a cure. I’ve lost loved ones to cancer (my paternal grandfather, Walter Welch, lost his battle when I was a youngster) and have seen the disease affect the lives of far too many others. I feel that running is the best thing I can do to help make sure others aren’t impacted by cancer in the years to come.

Pretty awesome, right?

Anyway, I launched this site as a way of chronicling the journey I’m going to be taking. I’m going to talk about training, fundraising and the highs, lows and quirks of the process. Essentially, I’m bringing you into the process of gearing up for Boston and everything it entails. It’s going to be a lot of work, but a lot of fun.

Please check out the features already included here on the site. More will be rolling out in the coming days, but welcome to the first day of Operation 26.2!