November 2015

#185: Returning to Running Postpartum

Six-week postpartum Stephanie Bruce getting ready to "fly on air" on her ElliptiGO.

Six-week postpartum Stephanie Bruce getting ready to “fly on air” on her ElliptiGO.

On this week’s running podcast, Sarah and Dimity welcome two guests to talk about the issues and concerns facing new moms when they contemplate their first runs after having a baby. First up: Kate Mihevc Edwards, an Atlanta-based physical therapist and mother runner, who waited eight weeks after giving birth to resume running—and who recommends all new moms stay on a running-hiatus at least that long. Kate clues the gals in on why holding a plank—or doing crunches—is a bad idea for some new moms, and why it’s so critical to find a pelvic health physical therapist to “have a look in there.” Kate also talks about the link between a higher risk of stress fractures while breastfeeding.

Then professional runner Stephanie Bruce joins the conversation. A 2:29:35 (!!) marathoner, Stephanie shares candid details about how her well-honed body is handling being pregnant and giving birth twice in less than two years, including that her “abs are divorced” from each other. Find out what were the “ugliest, most glorious three minutes” of Stephanie’s life (her answer might surprise you!) A self-described, “big dreamer,” Stephanie talks about whether her running path might still lead to the Olympic Marathon Trials next February, as she originally planned, or not.

If Dimity’s promo for the Stride through the Holidays Challenge piqued your interest, here’s how to jump in.

Dry Martini: Some Weeks, The Bear Eats You

You might have noticed that today is not Friday. Or, if I’m the first to break the news to you, then I’m sorry to let you know that it isn’t Friday. Soon, though.

For a variety of reasons, Martini Fridays will now be on Thursdays, which means we needed a new name. Martini Fridays on Thursdays felt cumbersome. Right now, we’re going with “Dry Martini.” We’ll see if it sticks.

My post-Wineglass return to running was going really, really well until last Wednesday. Yes, the first few runs back were rougher than I’d expected and there were moments when what “an easy three” felt like the physical equivalent of my high school stats class, where I was so far out of my league that I couldn’t even keep up with where my league should have been.

Yes, the sky really was that blue on my last long run. Then it started to hail.

Yes, the sky really was that blue on my last long run. Then it started to hail.

It was a disheartening slog, is what I’m saying. A few runs in, though, and I was back where I’d left off. I could pull off a few miles at my race pace in the middle of a longer run. My long runs were comfortable and, in one case, through typical New England-y October weather, which is to say, hot, bright sunshine followed by freezing snow squalls. A reminder that winter, as various Games of Thrones characters like to intone, is coming.

Still, it felt like all of the fitness I’d gained during my training for my super-fantastic race was in there. Now, I thought, it’s time to cue the training montage and so that I can get even faster!

Right now, you should hear the sound of a sad trombone.

Last week, shortly after a tornado-fast trip down to New York City for my actual job, during which I shook a lot of hands and failed to get good sleep, I was toppled by some dread illness. I spent the rest of the week either on the couch or asleep in bed, snuffling and hacking and wheezing while hoping that it would all pass sooner rather than later. Which it hasn’t. Stupid germs.

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My new BRF. His name is Frank.

To add to the fun, 24 hours after I was felled, my ten-year old son toppled, too. His version has been more spectacular, though. Long story short, while I was dragging my sorry self around a grocery store where I’d gone to pick up more decongestants and boxes of Jello, the boy almost made it to the bathroom before he started barfing.

Good times.

Being ten, he’s bounced back a whole lot quicker than I have. He’s back at school; I’m back at work — but one of us collapses on the couch after our days and begs for others in the house to refill her water glass. With extra ice. And, maybe a grape NUUN, if you really want to show me how much you love me.

My phlegm-y haze last weekend didn’t keep me from watching the NYC marathon. Not only do I consider it my local 26.2 (even though I live four hours away), I knew quite a few folks running it this year. Yes, Mary Keitany is my BFF from high school … I kid.

By all reports, each and every BAMR who ran NYC, rocked it like a mighty thing that rocks. Seriously. Even if she might think she didn’t, from my vantage point on the couch, she totally, absolutely, unequivocally did.

While I watched, I started to have … thoughts, the sort of thoughts that one has when one is glassy-eyed from fever. If I were going to run a marathon, it would have to be this one, I thought. I dared let this idea fall out of my head and into the universe, which seemed to say: challenge accepted. A Facebook friend suggested registering for the 2016 lottery and leaving it to the fates. Which seems like an easy enough thing to do, especially when you haven’t run a step for the better part of a week.

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I couldn’t remember before I set out on my last long run if it was deer season or not. I work my Saucony Vizipro jacket just in case.

Tomorrow — I’m writing this on Tuesday — my plan is to lace up for a super easy three miles. My hope is that it won’t be nearly as creaky and enervating as my post-Wineglass easy three — but I suspect it will be. My other hope is that getting sweaty will be just what I need to drive the last of this evil from my body. We shall see.

Of course, since deep, deep down I’m convinced that this running thing could disappear if I take my eyes off it for just a few seconds, I’m worried that all of the gains I’ve made are gone with the wind, since I’ve been sitting on my arse for a week. I know that’s my inner crazy lady talking, the one who always jumps to the most fatalistic conclusions despite having zero evidence to support them. But the running is what keeps my inner crazy lady quiet so she’s had some time to cook up a nice batch of new anxieties for me to ponder. Just one of the side benefits to getting sick.

How many of you have spent a week (or more) down with a bug, rather than an injury? How did your first few runs feel afterwards? And what do you think of the new column name?

One #FindYourStrong Marathon, Two Voices: The Aftermath

WINTER IS COMING

WINTER IS COMING

 

Heather and Marianne, two long-distance BRFs prepared for the Wineglass Marathon on October 4 using the AMR #FindYourStrong Marathon Challenge and shared their experiences–and miles–weekly. Today they are giving their just about one month since the marathon update. Find all their posts here.

 

Heather

I’ve been on the outside for a month now. It’s been tough at times – I really enjoyed having a training plan boss me around. Sometimes, having the added push of even just a sheet of paper yelling at you to get out the door is helpful. I’ve been missing that, big time.

Less time running means more time Halloween funning! (It's the best holiday, after all.)

Less time running means more time Halloween funning! (It’s the best holiday, after all.)

 

The surprisingly good news is that I’ve kept running. After my first and only half marathon in 2012 I pretty much stopped. Like, for six months or something equally ridiculous. With that as my track record, I was a little concerned about how things would go post-marathon. I have a tendency to get REALLYREALLY into something (yoga, knitting, food preservation) for a year or so and then never touch it again. It’s an aspect of my personality that I hate, and I was worried the same thing would happen with running. It hasn’t.

I’ve started looking ahead, too. SBS’s Boston comment has been ringing around in my brain since the marathon. After my difficult, over-4:00 finish, I thought that my BQ dreams might be over; SBS’s faith in me made me think differently, and I started wondering if I should hire a coach next year. After all, I’m only getting older, which equals slower…right?

I'm already missing the shorts and tiny doors of summer.

I’m already missing the shorts and tiny doors of summer.

 

As with so many things, it was during a run that I sorted through all this. While discussing the issue with two friends, I realized that I didn’t really want to try to BQ next year. Could I do it? Maybe. But it would sure as hell take a lot of work, both mental and physical. And honestly? Right now I just want to run. The problem was that I was terrified that if I didn’t go for it now, any speed I had would leak out as I inched toward the big 4-0.

Objectively, I know this is ludicrous. All of you reading this are mentally cycling through the many women you know who have only gotten faster with age. But this is one of those things that falls into the irrational “that’s them, not me” category. Despite my fear, I’m reasonable enough to know that attempting a BQ is going to take everything I’ve got and if my heart isn’t in it, it ain’t gonna happen.

So I’m following my gut on this one and looking to 2016 with a goal that does make me feel a little giddy: a 50k. Now, if you had casually suggested, around mile 23 of Wineglass, that I tack on an extra six miles, I would have kicked you in the knees (just kidding – I wouldn’t have had the energy). But now that marathon amnesia has set in, it feels like just the right challenge for a new year. Plus – if I’m being honest – I want the car magnet.

There’s still plenty of time to change my mind, of course, but as the darkness of winter settles in, dreams of long summer runs in sweet-smelling woods might just be what get me through. (And, of course, there’s that excellent challenge starting up soon to help too.)

Marianne

Post 6.8 mile MRTT run

With fellow AMR fan Jean (Right) and soon to be fan Kathleen (Left) after Sunday’s MRTT meetup

 

On paper, I look to be recovering just fine. After taking a week off post marathon, I have done 12 runs over 22 days. A few of these have been pretty short but Sunday’s was quite close to 7 miles. I’ve gotten back for a handful of HIIT classes and yoga as I had hoped and even got in a swim one day. Most of my runs have felt slow and tough but I think a large part of that is the extra dark that’s been happening this time of year at 6am.

 

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MRTT Run Spot

 

What’s less fine is the other stuff. The last month has passed in a whirlwind. I returned the Monday after the race for a long work dinner, then my father arrived that Wednesday other guests were in town the following Wednesday and my in laws arrived for a week starting on the 30th. (Caveat – they are fantastic. And Joyce adores them. But extra people is still extra people.)

Plus, work has been bananas the last few weeks. I have several promising first year grad students in the lab that keep getting the short end of my time because I am on far too many committees, all of which seem to have picked this semester to be too active. I wake up at 1am thinking about work and sometimes give up on sleep in favor of a few more hours of prep time. I have book club books left unopened. Friends have had babies and had their parents pass, and I only check in a fraction of the time I mean to. I have unmet deadlines. I have a preschool teacher asking to speak with me about my child’s sub-optimal behavior.

I have let my eating slip and pretty soon my lack of closable work pants will be an issue.

 

Saucony Triumphs make my feet happy

Saucony Triumphs keep my feet happy

 

But I also have these new shoes. To make sure I keep exercise as a top priority, I registered for the AMR Stride Through the Holidays challenge. (And you should too!). Plus there are plenty of races on the calendar (Thanksgiving Day 8k, Frozen Bonsai Half in December, lottery for the United NYC half in March, Power of Women Triathlon in April, Binghamton Bridge Challenge & Superhero Half in May).

I know that how I feel now isn’t how I’ve always felt or how I’ll always feel. I can settle in to feeling unsettled but not panicked. I am busy but not a disaster (exhibit A: Brianna, your baby gift is bought, just not yet mailed). I am saying “no” more now than I have in 9 years at work to keep it from getting worse. In other words, I learned from my training that there are going to be tough times. But there will also be cutbacks and tapers. I just might not get one until 2016. Thankfully, that’s only about nine weeks, about half the time of the #FYS plan, which flew by. Odds are this will too.

How about the rest of you? What seeds are sprouting in your brains? Anyone else experiencing some post-race instability?

Because These Failures Are My Job: The Running Version

Sometimes thumbholes are all you need to salvage a run.

Sometimes thumbholes are all you need to salvage a run.

 

I’ve had the pleasure of taking a few writing classes from the talented Lisa Jones, and one of things we regularly do is take a piece of great writing and use its perspective or structure as a springboard for your own thoughts.

Because These Failures are My Job by Alison Luterman is a delicious poem about when you do don’t do the things you’re supposed to do—pay attention and be present, namely, in this example—you’re actually doing your job. “It’s our job to be super imperfect,” is how Lisa explained it, and I immediately wrote that sentiment down and starred it. It’s not our job to be perfect; the intricacies of our failures are actually the reason we’re here, the job we’re supposed to do. Makes life—and running—feel a lot less heavy.

On a recent run—a six-miler around my hood—I made failure my job. Not consciously, but it was just one of those why-do-I-try-so-hard-and-care-so-much runs that leaves me more empty than filled up.

On my run today, I failed to notice the leaves. The yellow mustard ones, the orange ones, the maples whose veins protrude from their leathery skin.

On my run today, my head didn’t stay where my feet were. I made a grocery list (don’t forget bananas again!); I lamented good friends I feel like I’ve permanently lost touch with; I wondered if my daughter’s hot dog consumption should be minimized; I pondered if the drum set we just bought my son will actually be a wise investment—or at least one I will not regret; I reminded myself to answer emails and call my mom; I wished the miles away; I planned my day and planned the rest of my life.

On my run today, I was not here now. And I didn’t greet anybody who passed me.

On my run today, I checked my GPS like an obsessive-compulsive for no apparent reason. My splits were blah, and each minute contained 300 seconds.

On my run today, my feet were not light and quick. I clomped so horse-like on the gravel path that the walkers, 30 feet in front of me, turned around as I approached them, wondering if they should get out of the way. I tried to be bird-like after they craned their necks, but really, who was I kidding?

On my run today, the middle of my back turned numb by mile three. I promised myself I would come home and stretch, then lie on the foam roller for at least five minutes to unkink some angry tendons. I didn’t.

On my run today, I couldn’t find the right song. So I used up all my fast forwards on Pandora and ended up with commercials about trading in your KIA.

On my run today, I cursed the slight uphills (ouch! lungs!) and the minor downhills (ouch! knees!). I cursed my body for being too tall, too old, too hunched, too jiggly, for having too many miles in my joints. I cursed myself for not appreciating the fresh, young legs I had for so many years.

On my run today, I thought about what I will do when I can no longer run. But I really can’t bear that thought.

With about a mile left, I realized I didn’t have to stop and take off my long sleeve shirt mid-run. Thumbholes were still snuggled into the webbing of my hands.

Ma Nature had served up perfection on a Thursday morning—and that was enough to carry me home.

What failures have been your job on a recent run?

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