coachtext

Bethany Meyer hits her second speedbump on the road to the Boston Marathon. Bethany is running as part of the team sponsored by Stonyfield Organic Yogurt: to check out the other badass runners on their team and see what’s going on with them, check in here.  

I used to take my kids to the mall for lunch and a carousel ride when they were little. I held one’s hand, buckled two into a double stroller, and strapped the fourth to my chest. I remember the idea of it being so much fun. But in reality it was mentally and physically draining. I have to apply the heating pad to my lower back just thinking about it. During those outings, I could always count on three things:

  1. I would eat too many of my kids’ french fries.
  2. One of them would have a meltdown in the parking lot on the way to the car.
  3. Even if the parking lot were completely empty save for my minivan, a lone car would inevitably pull alongside my van, precluding me from entering the car on that side, and force me to wait until its occupants vacated their vehicle. All the while my toddler, in the throes of a tantrum, would buck like a wild bronco in our double umbrella stroller.

That car pulling up alongside us was my personal Murphy’s Law of being a Mom and taking the kids out in public.

When I first looked at my marathon training plan for Boston, I had several thoughts. I peered out the window, and the sun was shining. It was an unseasonably warm December day. Warm enough that earlier that day I had worn shorts to run. I moved my gaze from the window to my children, who were in various stages of play in the same room. I smiled at each of my boys. Two of them returned the smile, the youngest one threw his arms around my neck, and the teenager asked, “Why are you looking at me with that weird smile?” proving that everything was as it should be. I was injury free, feeling strong, fit, and up for the challenge. “Boston,” I thought, “I’m coming to get you!”

But there’s something about Murphy’s Law and being a Mom training for a marathon, isn’t there?

Because within hours, the temperature dropped below freezing and has remained well below there for the past 5 weeks. There has been snow. Freezing rain. Hail. Rain that hits the ground and freezes immediately, rendering four-wheel drive useless. As I type this, the forecast predicts more snow. More ice. More freezing rain. Even lower temperatures. My running friends are dropping off old pairs of sneakers for my husband to drill sheet metal screws into their soles and convert them to screw shoes. Our weekly runs sound more like a number from A Chorus Line than they do mother runners logging miles.

screwshoes

Five of the six of us were sick with the stomach thing for the better part of a week. I’ve had visitors by my bedside at all hours of the night recently. One complained, “I am sorry to wake you, but I can’t hear. My ear is clogged. I can only hear the buzzing of a stink bug flying around in my room.” Another woke me to tell me, “Mom, I’m just so thirsty. I woke up because I was just so thirsty. I want a cough drop, but I know you won’t give me a cough drop because I always accidentally swallow my cough drops. So, instead I got water. I just wanted to tell you.” A third woke me by tapping me with the Aveeno container. “Mom, I have itchy skin because I coughed once. You better put this lotion on me. Because I coughed once. And now my skin is itchy.” I love that they seek me out when they need comfort in the middle of the night. Is it too much to ask that no one needs comfort in the middle of the night until–oh, I don’t know–May?

So, the weather has turned. And the kids have been sick. But let’s look on the bright side. At least I’m injury-free, fit, and strong, right?

Well…

Last weekend, I had a Saturday progression run on the schedule. The treadmill is my jam when I am looking to hit and hold a pace. Otherwise, I find myself looking at my watch every 30 seconds, “I wonder what my pace is now? And now? How about now? Am I holding steady now?”

I followed it up with 8 outdoor miles on Sunday morning. With Snowmageddon allegedly on its way, I braved the grocery store and–after running–stood in my kitchen for three hours and made every soup and stew in my arsenal. With the refrigerator full, it was finally time to sit down. “Ow,” I thought as I made my way to the sofa, “What is that pain in my heel? Did I step on a Lego earlier today?” With each step I took, the pain in my heel got worse. “Ooof. It must have been a pointy Lego hat.” And still worse. “An entire army of Lego soldiers, every one holding a Lego sword.” My husband saw my pained expression, so I explained the sensation to him.

“Uh-oh,” he said, “You have plantar fasciitis.” He would know. He’s been struggling with it for 11 months.

Good old Murphy’s Law has found me again. If it can happen, it will happen.

Outdoor running conditions are treacherous.

My kids have been sick.

Caring for them made me sick.

And now I am injured.

Luckily, Coach is all over it.

I’ve scaled back my mileage and am hoping to see the doctor this week. When I told my old Ragnar buddies that I’d caught my husband’s plantar fasciitis (who knew it was contagious?), their advice, support, and virtual hugs were immediate. There is a special place in my heart for those women. They are my bright spot in what’s been an otherwise dreary month.

And so I am happy to bid January farewell.

In February, I’m hoping for warmer temps, healthy kids, and a body that will cooperate.

My goal is to outrun Murphy’s Law. What are my chances?

And because I have you, plantar fasciitis tips: Lay ’em on me. I’m getting over this PF asap.