Day two of the countdown to Chicago 2016. Second day after the Chicago Marathon that was “Abbey’s marathon.” And day two in the new year leading up to the Chicago Marathon 2016.
Today’s takeaways, all requiring development.
Match the fit of your previous shoes.
Set up multiple target races.
Don’t risk stopping running because you can’t do a target race.
Myy lingering philosophy and its results. I missed the Chicago Marathon 2015 because I closely followed a two-part saying I have.
Part one. Do it till it’s broken.
Part B. Make sure it’s broken.
Backstory to missing the CM 2015. Three weeks before CM 2015, I was out on a planned and much-anticipated twenty-mile run on the Great Western Trail with my daughter Abigail. I wasn’t feeling too good, but pretty much chalked that up to the hard workouts I’d run the previous weeks. My legs felt pretty banged up. But I didn’t pay too much attention to that. Being banged up from hard or long, or hard and long workouts, was my preferred norm. I wanted to work out hard, knowing that after a serious workout, or a serious series of workouts, or the whole week before “Chicago,” I would take a rest.
So, Abbey and I were moving right along, not too quickly, but steadily, and about as quickly as I could do that day, somewhere in the low 9-minute per mile range. But like an analog spring-powered watch on its last coils, I was slowing down, slowing down. At the 15-mile mark, I finally had to stop and say, “Ab, you go ahead.”
As I watched her continue running down the Great Western trail, I slowed to a jog. After a few hundred yards, I slowed to a walk. And I walked the rest of the way in. A slow, long, slow walk. It took me over two hours to make it the rest of the way in.
Oh, I felt pretty bad. I ached. My legs ached. My feet ached. My heart ached.
Flashback to a horrendous error. It turns out I had made an incredibly novice mistake (sorry, novices, that’s what it looks like to me!). The week before the planned 20-miler, I started wearing new shoes. “Back in the day,” as some elder runners would say, this would in itself have been a horrendous mistake. It’s no longer the mistake it once was, mostly because running shoes, for the most part, no longer need to be broken in [more on that later]. But they do have to be sized and fitted, because the size you buy and the fitting you set is what you get.
Sized but not fitted. And I had not done that. I bought the right size. Check. But I did not open the shoelaces and the laces on my left shoe were just too tight. How can that be? How could I not fit my shoes simply by comparing the laces to shoes I wore with great comfort? I just don’t know. But that’s what I didn’t do. Uncheck.
Consequently, on the run, with every step I took, my left foot twisted under. Because the foot bone is connected to the ankle bone, and the ankle bone is connected to the leg bone, and the leg bone is connected to the knee bone . . . with every step I took, my left knee twisted.
Immediate non-action taken.
Immediate actions taken.
Subsequent tests made.
And now, I’m out.
And now, I’m sad, after all my hard, long, and hard and long workouts.
And now, I’m sad, not knowing whether I can run again, ever. Meniscus.
And this lingering philosophy, just doesn’t work.
Three kinds of pain – discomfort, ache, and pain.
No one target race.
Subsequently, set up multiple target races, so that when you are slowed down by an injury you really oughta wanna needta rest for, you don’t exacerbate the injury, but take the rest and still have time to prepare for the subsequent target race.
PJV – runningdadvitkus. 10.14.2015