September 2017

Back in the Groove: Sidelined by Surgery

Technically, January is the start of the new year but September is when it really feels like time has turned a page. Maybe it’s because of the first-day-of-school pictures, where you can measure how quickly the kids are growing. Maybe it’s because the air is crisp after August’s heat. Or maybe it’s because all of your favorite gear companies are releasing a new round of fancy pants.

Whatever the reason, this is a great time to get back into a running groove. This week, we’re diving deep into stories from BAMRs who have misplaced their running mojo through injury, pregnancy, or relocation.

First up is Jen Rucker. She’s a mom to son, Wyatt, who is nine.

Jen on her first run back.

How did you lose your running groove?

In late June, I had a lumbar discectomy, which is surgery to remove a piece of a herniated disc that was pressing on my motor nerve. Prior to this, I spent six miserable months in various stages of PT, rest — and running through an injury I later found out was only going to be fixed with surgery.

Since 2010, I have been running marathons. My typical schedule was train from May-October for a fall marathon (or two), easy light running in November and December, then into training for a March half. April was usually fun, easy miles before launching back into marathon training. I would repeat this type of schedule every year.

This injury presented as a hamstring injury for quite some time so that’s how I treated it. As the winter passed and spring started, I was convinced I would heal and be ready to train for my two fall marathons: Wineglass and Marine Corps. As I was starting my marathon training, I ran the Brooklyn Half, a race that had been on my list for years. I completed it, but ended up run/walking the last three miles due to excruciating pain in my knee. That is what finally brought me back to the doctor. Two MRIs later and I found out I had several compression stress fractures in my knee and a herniated disc. Surgery was immediately scheduled since I had been dealing with it for so long. May 20 was the last time I laced up shoes for almost three months.

How are you working on getting it back? 

The recovery for this surgery was relatively quick, all things considered. Just 12 days post-surgery I was cleared to ride a recumbent bike. Six weeks post-surgery, I was cleared to start run/walking. I tried it immediately, then gave it a few attempts, and just wasn’t feeling ready.

The hardest part of this has been figuring out what are my true feelings versus what I have convinced myself to believe are my feelings. I was actually excited to have the surgery because I knew it would lead to healing. Healing would lead me back to running. Running would bring me back to fitness, time outside, stress relief, and my running friends. Volunteering at water stops and texting is not the same as running side-by-side for hours.

The run/walking wasn’t feeling as easy as I had hoped and I started to convince myself that I would be okay if I couldn’t run anymore. I’ve always wanted to try barre classes. Now I could. My running friends are still my friends; we’ll just have to make plans to see each other. Plus, I would have so much extra time on the weekends. I could read more. I could keep the weekly cleaning schedule I always seemed to create but never could execute. No more 5 a.m. alarm on a Sunday. I even canceled the hotel for a half in December that I was secretly hoping I could run. For the first time since 2010, there are no races on my calendar.

Last week, I was feeling better and decided to try to run one mile without walking. I did it and it felt good. Two days later, I did it again. All of those feelings I convinced myself I was feeling? I was wrong. I would not be okay not running anymore. Twelve minutes of putting one foot in front of the other, with my Garmin on my wrist, and I knew which were my true feelings and which were not.

I can’t help but smile when I think of running again. However, I’m going to take my time and make sure I’m truly ready to be out there again. I’m going to stick to my self-made rule of no races in 2017. If all goes well, I have a March half picked out!

Will Jen make it back to Wineglass again?

What are three pieces of advice you’d have for anyone in a similar situation?

My first piece of advice is allow yourself to feel all the feelings. Different stages of the injury and recovery will lead to different feelings so just let yourself experience them. Secondly, be patient. Your body has gone through a lot and it needs time to heal. Finally, going from 40-50 mile weeks to nothing is tough so be kind to yourself.

If you’re looking to get your groove back with a group of like-minded runners, there’s still time to Stride into the School Year. This five-week program is all about forward motion, fitness, accountability and community, not about training for a specific race. The workouts are one-size-fits-all, whether you’re a walker, run/walker, or runner, and whether you’re just starting to run, coming back to it after a decade off, or just need a little push to get you jump started again.

#276: Coming to Terms with Being Sidelined from Running

Sarah and co-host Dimity dive deeply into Dimity’s long-term injury—and the fact it’s going to keep her from running for the foreseeable future. With her signature candor, Dimity talks about why her quarter-century of running has come to a close—and how she is coming to accept that prognosis for the next six months (or longer). Discover why it’s a relief for the AMR co-founder to deliberately take control of her non-running situation, and how she’s remaining active and strong despite the lack of miles on her feet. Hear the determination in Dimity’s voice when she says she’s not going to stop being an athlete, and learn what athletic adventure she’s scheming with a friend. Dimity talks about the importance of “thinking beyond the daily release” running provides and the need to “widen the lens” to see the long-term landscape. Whether you’re in the same proverbial shoes now or know it’ll come one day (hello, aging!), this is an episode we all need to experience.

In the intro, Sarah elaborates on the smoke-situation in Portland, and Dimity humble-brags (as well she should!!) about her daughter’s volleyball experiences. The meat of the conversation starts at 22:42.

To save $30 on purchase of AfterShokz Trekz Titanium headphones + get free sport belt, go to amr.aftershokz.com and use code AMR at checkout.

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“I think you really need to consider not running anymore.”

Starting the (extra long) post with a salute and a smile—and one my favorite race pictures.

I heard the words no runner ever wants to hear last Monday.

As I leafed through a April 2015 Glamour magazine, pretending to care the new best shape for plucked brows, I was really watching my right leg shake out of the corner of my eye.

I knew they were coming. I had an MRI on my lower back last June, and had studied the report. While I did a respectable job with Dr. Google translations, it wasn’t the anatomy that concerned me. It was the choice of adjectives. The words advanced and degenerative were used often, usually in front of nouns like disc, narrowing, stenosis.

When the doctor, a sweet man who knows that both my professional life and emotional wellbeing center around running, came in, he gave me a hug—a first.

Then I really knew the words were coming.

After some small talk and looking at the MRI, he gently put it out there: “I think you really need to consider not running anymore.”

Sensing that direction may be a little too abrupt, he added, “Well, you can run a 5K now and then if you want.”

*****

Celebrating another comeback from a stress fracture; I was able to run Ragnar Colorado and then Ragnar DC. Two races in a row was an anomaly in my running career.

By my casual count, I have staged at least eight running comebacks, bouncing back from pregnancy, bunion surgery and stress fractures galore, among others.

The most recent injury, what I initially thought was a hamstring issue, felt different though.

Not only was it the longest (10ish months out), progress was also the least discernible. Which was upsetting because I was cramming physical therapy moves like a wannabe MD crams for the MCATs: daily and with focus. I also was sampling dry needling, the chiropractor, traction, Feldenrkrais, elements from the McKenzie method and the Big Three from Dr. Stuart McGill.

Lots of one-legged PT work too. Extra points for stunning scenery at Red Rocks.

While I definitely felt like I was getting stronger from planks + glute bridges galore, I also felt the injury wasn’t getting better.

Yes, the hamstring ache abated so pushing on the gas pedal wasn’t akin to a getting root canal anymore (win!), but I still felt physically fragile. Like doing anything cardio beyond swimming or walking would set everything off again. (In June, I figured out that stair climbing was also easy on the leg, so I also put that into the cardio rotation.)

As much as the physical situation gnawed away at me, the mental part of an injury, as I hope you don’t know personally, can be more vicious than a rabid raccoon. It is especially brutal when it doesn’t involve a broken bone or similar injury that has a clearly defined recovery timeline.

After a few months filled with managing the trifecta of pain, frustration and impatience, the when-can-I-run again loop cranked up the volume in my head. I tried for 20 minutes in Phoenix on spring break in March, and it wasn’t pretty.

When the comeback anthem wasn’t on repeat, it was replaced by thoughts that this dry-needling session or that new exercise, found by watching hours of DIY physical therapy videos on YouTube, would be the one that would finally make me feel whole. Didn’t happen.

I clicked on Facebook posts showing delicious trails I wanted to run, even though going around my block twice in June had me gulping Advil.

I threw in a few miles of easy running on a hike in Wyoming over the fourth of July, and only mildly regretted doing so.

My fifth or so time running in 2017 was on the Sunday before my doctor’s appointment. I got off the stepmill with 10 minutes to go of my hour workout, and stepped on a treadmill. I put the speed at 5.0, turned up Rent’s La Vie Boheme and ran. And then my hamstring stabbed me again on the way home.

Got it, universe.

You know that feeling when you see a moth dart again and again towards a street light? Not only can’t it help itself, has no idea its fascination with the beautiful shiny thing is eventually going to send it plummeting to the pavement.

This year, my brain was in moth mode. I couldn’t turn it off, even though I inherently sensed my body was already plummeting.
*****

NYC 1997: Old school photo images that came in the mail. Wearing my Flashdance bandana and hanging with an interesting crowd of runners.

I count the start of my official running career as the 1997 NYC Marathon. The end of it? 2016 Philadelphia Half-Marathon, which was unbeknownst to me at the time. That’s 19 years of running regularly, Add in four more years of reluctant miles during college, and I’ve been a runner for nearly 25 years. (And yes, I get to round up.)

Crossing the 2016 Philadelphia Half my favorite way: With my arms up and a #BAMR—Melissa—by my side.

The impact a near-quarter-decade of running has had on my 6’4” body with an extra-long spine is not insignificant. Is all the damage from running? Of course not. But I can’t deny that the thousands of miles I’ve run doesn’t play a significiant role in my current spinal status.

I’m 45 years old, and I need to be mindful of what physical conditions can be reversed and what conditions can simply be managed. My discs, one of which is a total flat, oozing mothehumper that bites into my nerves, and stenosis are in the latter category. I want to be active for the rest of my life, and if I continue to run, I am not confident my body will allow that to happen.

For my own (and family’s) sanity, I have to kill the moth and the endless wondering and comeback plans. For my body’s sake, I have to minimize the chronic pain. For my spirit’s sake, I have consciously redirect my energy away from my running. (I am not entirely sure where I’m sending it yet, but you’ll be the first to know.)

So I am taking the good doctor’s advice, and firmly pushing stop on my running.

I type that sentence with tears streaming down my face. Running has been my partner, consistently my side for over twenty years. She’s always ready to rally. She is my confidante and my antidepressant, my kick in the butt and my place to relax, my connector to a higher power and my path to peer inwards. She is my cool side of the pillow and my reality check when I need one.

She can create and dry tears (sometimes in the same workout); make me second-guess my devotion to her with two minutes of a tempo effort; elicit a burning pain in muscles that I both love and hate; and summon feelings of pride, confidence, gratitude strength and ownership I’ve never felt standing still.

Wrong dog, right setting. (Dharma lived in the pre-running-with-phone days.)

She held my hand when I, a rower trying to make the US Olympic Crew, was injured and I had to run by the river while everybody else rowed on it. She made me, a singleton in NYC, feel less alone as we lapped Central Park. She whooped it up with me, and my BRD Dharma, as we discovered trail running in Santa Fe. She fought for every step on my longest run—16 miles—as I, healing from a stress fracture, cruised around Colorado Springs so I got get to the starting line of the 2006 Nike Women’s Marathon. She didn’t get mad at me in the Couer d’Alene Ironman, when my run/walk segments were really walk/walk/walk/tiny, tiny run/walk segments.

And she never complained when I sang out loud in a voice that made my 4th-grade choir wince. (True story.)

I’ve known her longer than my husband or my kids, and losing her has—and will continue to—make permanent indent on my life.

That said, I have to admit: I also feel lighter than I have in months. Sometimes the hard decision and the right decision are the exact same thing. When it is finally made, you can’t help but exhale relief.

*****

Just because running is off the table for me doesn’t mean adventure is. I’ve got plenty of #BAMRish plans on my mind (Grand Canyon, anybody?), and I’m still planning to write about them—and running in general. Stay tuned.

Expect more signs, more cowbell, more #BAMR #BAMR #BAMR ’till I lose my voice!

Most importantly, I am not going anywhere in AMR on the TLAM Club. While running is the thing that introduced us, our bond is so much deeper than a race distance, a PR, a daily workout. Count on me to continue to cheer for you in person and around these virtual parts. I want to high-five you for your daily victories, and I want to boost you over speed bumps when they arise. Please continue to tag me, ask me, tell me, and invite me to celebrate.

Connection and teamwork are two of my deepest values, and they, unlike my spine, aren’t degenerating anytime soon.

Deepest thanks for reading this far, and for supporting and loving me through all the ups and downs. xoxo

On the Ground in Houston and How to Help

During the Labor Day weekend, most mother runners had the luxury of lacing up and heading out for a run without giving a second thought to when the floodwaters would recede from their neighborhood. Mother runners in the Houston area are dealing with a different reality.

Like Janelle Williams, mom of two girls, ages 8 and 12.

Janelle documents the deep water crossings on the way to her house.

“It’s weird and it’s surreal being in the middle of it,” she says.

Initially, she and her husband decided to weather Hurricane Harvey in their Katy home. But as the storms slowed down, the flooding sped up. By Thursday, the family decided to head for higher ground. Fortunately, one of their triathlon friends was out kayaking people to safety and was able to get them someplace dry.

“There were a lot of people who didn’t leave their houses because they could not walk through the water. They didn’t have the strength,” she says. “We had to walk a mile once we got out of the house to get to a car. I feel so blessed to be strong so that I could get out and I could get my kids out. A couple of my friends were in the waist-deep water and they walked out pushing their kids on rafts. One had four kids so they had to do more than one trip.”

Janelle and family are staying with a running friend. She and her husband are also part of a triathlon group in nearby Cypress. Four members of that team were displaced by the flood; three of those folks have houses that are underwater still. The rest of the team has been coming to Katy to pitch in.

Katy’s Gotta Run group takes a quick break.

“So far, they’ve mucked out about 12-15 houses. The folks who are leading the cleaning groups are saying the runners and the triathletes are so strong and that the houses go fast,” she says. “They get it done.”

The damage to Janelle’s house has been, all things considered, minimal. Their roof has a leak and a front corner will need to be watched for mold. But, as of Monday, the roads in her subdivision were impassable. There are still places with 3 feet of water in them, she says, and parts of the community are under severe water and sewage restrictions.

“Our running community, the Gotta Run group,  has been our rock,” Janelle says. “They have a clean-up crew. They have a food crew. They’re begging to take our laundry. They’ll call and ask ‘Do you need a run? We’ll come run.’”

The running group is also providing gear, if needed.

“I forgot to get Jonathan’s shoes on a trip back to the house so everybody checked their shoes to find him a pair. I can’t find my running bottoms so somebody brought me a running skirt. One of the gals in the group has her own athletic wear company. She offered two outfits to everybody who had to evacuate,” Janelle says.

Getting in the miles… and the donuts.

While every Houstonian is getting through this time in his or her own way, running has helped runners maintain some sense of normalcy and of teamwork.

“The night before Harvey hit, my friend wanted to get 15 miles in. She started at like 8 p.m. and she had three groups go with her and each one did five miles. I did the 9 p.m. loop,” Janelle says. “This Saturday, we had a big group run, which was awesome. Friends who houses are completely flooded and they can’t get into them, they have been running every day.”

Of course, it’s going to take more than sweaty miles to get this city of seven million Americans back on its feet – but miles are a place to start. There are other ways to help, too.

Mother runner Ginny, the #UnderpantsFairy, has the most practical plan. She’s collecting cash to buy undies, which she’s distributing to shelters. “People are so happy and relieved to have their own underwear,” Ginny says. “It’s an obvious statement but during times like this, it’s often a forgotten donation.” Email her at ginny.ebben@gmail.com and #leavenobootybare.

#UnderpantsFairy

Runners World has a list of runner-related fundraisers and campaigns. Along with Help for Harvey races, both actual and virtual, the list notes that Fleet Feet Sports stores are holding individual shoe and clothing donation drives in addition to participating in “Shoes for Houston,” an event asking customers to bring new or gently used footwear and socks into stores. More information is on their website.

Coach MK has a few words about her favorite running spot and a run to help clean it up:

“In 2011, I was laid off en route to my wedding, we found out I was pregnant exactly 6 weeks later, and that my husband’s job would be relocated to Katy, Texas. Shortly after that, my mother-in-law passed away unexpectedly, and 7 days later our first child was born.  Holmes and Rahe‘s scale couldn’t contain us.

Running was the glue that held me together through 2012.  Houston’s running community is unsurpassed; I have truly never seen anything like it.  Their support got me through that terrible year and I am forever grateful. I consider them family.

Y’all, my family is in trouble. During Harvey, Houston and the surrounding areas received upwards of 52 inches of rain in 72 hours. It will be months before most running trails are cleared to run again.

The running community in Houston is one of the strongest I have ever seen — but it’s gonna take more than grit to pull through this mess. We owe our fellow runners more than lip service. We can start by joining in the cleanup and rebuilding of the Buffalo Bayou trail system.

Deep in the Heart of Houston, a virtual run, is September 1-29. All proceeds will go directly to the Buffalo Bayou Partnership to help clean and restore this popular running spot, which was completely flooded during the storm.”

Finally, we at TLAM want to offer #motherrunners affected by Harvey free training in either the Monthly Heart Rate-Based Programs or Stride into the School Year. We know you are #TexasStrong and have been inspired by all of the flood runfies you’ve sent our way. If you are going to run hell or high water, then we are determined to support you in kind. (And if it feels like you’re not ready to train, no worries…we just want to support you as best as possible and remind you that running and exercise needs to not be forgotten as you file insurance claims.) Please email us at tlamclub@anothermotherrunner.com with “Harvey Runner” in the subject line and we’ll get you set up asap.

Zooming to ZOOMA: When Eight Feels Short

Before we catch up with our ZOOMA Duo, a quick head’s up: the Stride into the School Year program starts on Monday. It is five weeks of unique, fun workouts that blend running and strength training. (Read: You rarely repeat a workout.) The plan has you sweating five days a week, with an option for a sixth day if your schedule and energy allow. The goal is forward movement, which we could all use now that the kids are back in school!


For their fifth blog post, Bridget and Heidi, friends and business partners in the Hell Yeah Projects, interview each other about their training and soon-to-be race experience at ZOOMA Cape Cod.

Heidi Bellamente, 39; mother of two, entrepreneur and leadership coach & consultant (and future ½ marathon finisher) starts us off by interviewing Bridget Sprague, 41; mother of three, entrepreneur and Director of Marketing for Revision Energy (and future 10K finisher). 

Bridget’s husband is. An. Ironman.

Heidi: Fill me in: what’s been happening? 

Bridget: My husband, Billy, just finished his half Iron Man at Old Orchard Beach in Maine. It was big accomplishment for all of us, given the training regimen. Plus, we all got up at 4am to go watch him.

So was it inspirational?

It’s amazing what humans can put their bodies through and still be so happy about it. I definitely walked away wishing I was in better shape!

How are you feeling about your own race?

I’ve decided I’m going to be happy just walking it and finishing it. I’ve had two injuries now- first my toe, then this last week I threw out my back.

Did you have carry Billy up the stairs? Is that how it happened?

No, but I did take a good pic of him crawling up the stairs after his race! The honest truth is I’m not sure how it happened. I woke up one morning with shooting pain in my back. I thought it might be a kidney stone because it was right near my kidney but, alas, the doctor told me it was muscle related.

The picture in question.

That sucks, Bridget. So tell me what does this month look like, what with trying to heal and a goal to finish the race?

I guess my next month looks like trying to get in as many nice walks with my husband as possible without hurting myself! The kids go back to school and my husband goes back to school (he’s a physical education teacher) so it’s going to get crazy again for us.

So in our first blog, we talked about what we were most nervous about and yours was injury. Here we are, a month away from Zooma and you’re hurt. Are you discouraged?

At the moment, I’m very discouraged. I keep thinking, “What can I do to make things better?” but keep coming up short. I guess the best thing for me to do is focus on finishing, even if it’s just finishing and walking.

Pre-race family portrait.

I don’t hear you giving up and I think a lot of people may have done that by now.

Well, luckily I have you, and I don’t want to disappoint you.

I think you’re really just afraid I’ll beat you up!

Yes, I’m really afraid of you. But honestly, I’m really grateful that you’re with me on this crazy journey.

Heidi and her friend Jean running in coastal Maine during a retreat.

Then Bridget asked Heidi some questions.

Bridget: We’re a month out. How are you feeling about the race? 

Heidi: I’m feeling good! Well, at the moment I have a head cold so I don’t feel all that great, but overall I’m feeling ready. I did 11 miles last weekend, so 8 miles (with a fast last 10 min) this weekend felt like a breeze. I was joking with my running buddies that now 8 felt like a “short” run after doing 11!

I know you were going to do some yoga. How’d that go? 

I did it. Once. I wanted it to be relaxing and very zen like but the truth is that I did it at home via a YouTube channel and I didn’t get to finish because the power went out. I was in my living room doing down dog looking at old Cheerios on the carpet. It felt like the opposite of zen.

That’s hysterical! So no more yoga?

Ideally, yes, but not at home. I think I need a professional for my next experience! For now, I think I’m just going to give myself permission to do the training plan to the best of my ability up until race day. I like the foam roller and do know I should commit to more stretching, even if I’m not doing yoga. I don’t ever regret a good stretch.

Heidi in her Zooma sweatshirt taking her oldest to the bus on the first day of school!

What do you have left to do to get race day ready?

I desperately need some new cool weather running shirts. I really am running in shirts from 1999. I did love the SweatX detergent sample I got but you can’t get a decade of funk out with just one wash. It might be time to invest in some new  clothes. I also realized I have no idea when I last bought new shoes. That might mean it’s time to replace those, too.

Do you ever get that massage we talked about last time? I didn’t and I sure could use it! 

No! Why does that keep getting put off? What are we doing?  

Running for Two: Slowing Down

Before we catch up with Ashely, a quick head’s up: the Stride into the School Year program starts on Monday. It is five weeks of unique, fun workouts that blend running and strength training. (Read: You rarely repeat a workout.) The plan has you sweating five days a week, with an option for a sixth day if your schedule and energy allow. The goal is forward movement, which we could all use now that the kids are back in school!

Slow. I feel like slow should be my new catch phrase. I roll out of bed slowly. I put my shoes on slowly. And I am running slowly. It seems silly now to admit but when I first found out I was pregnant I was worried I would loose all my “speed.” I was never really fast, which made it almost worse because the little bit of speed I had i was certain I would lose. I worked hard for that brisk turtle pace. I didn’t want my hard work to just go down the drain because I was growing a human.

My first few runs with baby on board were all about keeping the beat and not running any slower than I had been. I realized quickly that I was not in charge anymore.  BOB #2 had a different plan. Those early runs left me exhausted, winded, and down right bumming hard that I was struggling. I felt like my groove was slipping through my fingertips.

Ashley at a recent family wedding.

Now that I’m 30 weeks pregnant, I can look back and see that I did lose speed but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. As my times got slower, I felt the absolute opposite as what I anticipated. Don’t get me wrong, it still stung a little bit each mile when my Garmin vibrated at me, but I embraced my inner BAMR. I am proud that I am even still running with this little human on board. I am not hunkered down on the couch watching trashy TV and demolishing cartons of ice cream. I have even started to contemplate leaving my Garmin at home but I just can’t part with it yet. I feel naked without it and let’s get real, if it wasn’t tracked, did it really happened?

As this pregnancy progresses, I can feel my body beginning to reach its capacity. Being 5’ 2,” I am physically running out of space to house this kid. Between feet in my ribs and and and elbow pinching my sciatic nerve, I’m getting uncomfortable. The runs still feel good; however, the hours following do not.

Ashley’s new running partners.

I was worried I would have to make the decision to slow down on my own but BOB #2 has shown me he/she is the one in charge, not me. My runs are getting to the point where I am fairly certain I could walk faster than I am running but I am still moving. Instead of mourning the loss of my speed, I am embracing the slower pace and all the glorious little things that accompany it. Reese and our dogs can join me more often. I am more focused on my surroundings and, most importantly, I am reminded of why I run in the first place, which definitely isn’t to win any time trials.

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