Injury: My Worst Training Fear

Last weekend we were in Nashville, TN for my sister-in-law’s birthday.  I was also scheduled to do my second 20 mile run.  I thought about trying to fit it in before we left, but my schedule just didn’t allow it.  I had high expectations for this run, but was a little concerned about doing such an important run in a completely different environment.  Downtown Nashville has a bunch of greenway trails.  We left our hotel and made it downtown around 7:30.  We parked right next to the start of the trail that follows the Cumberland River.  The scenery was a bit weird for the first few miles, but once we got away from downtown it was great.

I felt good.  I attributed it to the duck fat fried tater tots and white cheddar mac and cheese I’d had for dinner at Merchant’s.  My pace was consistent, and I was confident that I would be faster than my last twenty miles.  Then around mile 6, that greenway ended.  I didn’t want to turn around and try to find another eight miles around downtown.  We hit the sidewalk and kept going.  Before long we came to Tennessee State’s campus.  I could tell that the sidewalk was pretty angled, but didn’t think too much about it.  At seven miles, we turned around, and the grade of the sidewalk was even more noticeable.

My left foot started to bother me – sort of a slight cramping.  I figured once we got back onto a flat surface, it would work itself out.  After all, I’d only been running on the slant for a couple of miles.  We got back on the path, and I tried wiggling my foot in my shoe to stretch it out, but it wasn’t getting better.  A little after 9 miles, I told my husband it was bothering me.  The pain was distinctly on the outside of my foot.  At this point, my only thought was that it was going to suck to run another 11 miles with this irritation.

We got back onto the flat greenway path, but the cramping was turning into pain.  A little over 11 miles, we came to a spot where people can park and get onto the path.  A man on a bike rode by us and cheerfully said, “You’re almost there!  You can do it!”  While normally something like this would make me smile and provide some motivation, this time I just thought, “But we aren’t almost there!  I have 9 more to go!”

I stopped then and tried to really stretch my foot.  For the first time I began to doubt that I would finish the full 20.  The next mile was tough.  I was in my head, and not in a good way.  At 12-ish, I stopped for some more Sports Beans and put my headphones in, hoping that some music would drown out the negative thoughts.  But the pain was getting worse.  And the clouds had cleared and it was getting warmer.

Around 13.5, only a half mile from the car, I stopped and started crying.  I knew I couldn’t do the distance, and was worried about what that meant for my training.  I think this is the first time I’ve actually cried during a run.  My husband asked me specifically where the pain was, and told me to try re-tying my shoe.  He also told me that he would do the entire amount with me so that I wouldn’t have to get through it alone.  This made me want to cry even more, because I was grateful for the offer, but knew he wasn’t ready for 20 (his longest run to date had been 13, and his Achilles’ was bothering him).  I didn’t want both of us injured from this run.

We took a brief stop across from the car (14 miles) and I decided to keep going.  We ran down to the pedestrian bridge, crossed the water, and ran by the Titans’ stadium.  I was feeling a sharp, shooting pain with each step.  At 15, I sat down on a bench, started crying again, and wailed, “I can’t do it!”  My husband said, “Yes, you can.  I’ll be here with you.”  I just kept crying.  It was hot, I needed to go to the bathroom, I was afraid to keep running and do more damage.  His response?  “If it’s your foot, we should stop.  If it’s because of the sun and because you need to poop, you need to just buck up and get it done.”  And he was right.  That’s what I needed to hear.

But when I stood up, I could barely put any weight on my foot.  I made the tough decision to head back to the car.  My husband put his arm around me, and told me he was proud of me, which made me cry again.  I was frustrated by the injury, disappointed to quit 5 miles from my goal, and worried about the rest of training and the race.

It didn’t improve during the weekend, and I took to Google on the ride home.  I narrowed it down to three possibilities.  1. Stress fracture of the 5th metatarsal (not likely). 2. Peroneal tendonitis (more likely). 3. Deep tissue or bone bruise (most likely).  After doing some more Dr. Googling, I self-diagnosed with No. 2.  I limped around Monday, and decided I would go to the Blue Mile injury check on Tuesday.

Turns out my self-diagnosis was correct.  I’m still not sure how running only 2 miles on the slanted sidewalk caused such a problem.  I run on uneven pavement all the time.  I left Blue Mile with strength exercises, instructions to ice, and a better attitude.  I ran Wednesday morning, but it was pretty painful.  I took Thursday and Friday off, knowing I had 16 miles on the schedule for Sunday.  I wanted to get a few miles in Saturday, but when I woke up, it hurt worse than it had since last Sunday.  How could that be?  I was not happy.

I got up today, took two Advil, ate some breakfast and got ready to go.  I don’t know if it was the Advil or just a general improvement in symptoms, but I felt pretty good.  I had no foot pain at all, although it started to tighten up around 11.  I just kept going.

I impressed myself with my pace.  That is the fastest I have run anything over 13 miles, and having done it after an injury and almost a week off definitely boosted my confidence.  Surprisingly, I haven’t had any major foot pain all day.  I hope it continues to improve.  I don’t want to have to make a decision not to run.  I just want to go back to freaking out about focusing on running my first marathon in less than two weeks.