Sidelined

Uwharrie National Park - 17 miles running, 2.5 walking at a slow, painful pace

This run was supposed to be 20 miles, and my longest run ever. I knew that the terrain was difficult, more-so than anything around Greensboro that I was used to, but I also knew we would go at a slow pace. I trusted the guys I was running with. I wasn't worried.

Until we began the run. Immediately, the path was littered with large, jagged boulders. The sort of path that makes you think, "wow, if I were to fall, I could get really hurt here." Things didn't improve as the rocks stayed even though the path went sharply downhill. And uphill.

Did I mention that? Uphill. The types of hills that would make you cringe even if you were on a hike, not a 20 mile run. Still, we were going slow and I was doing ok.

But I was not having fun.

At the 9.5 turn around point, I decided that all I wanted to be was back at the car. I wanted to be finished. So I took off from the main pack.

Bad idea.

Because at around total distance mile 16.5/17, I was coming down a hill towards a creek. My muscles were gone, my stability was nill, and my mental concentration departed a few miles back. I was contemplating good possible first date locations with a newly acquired "match" from the internet.

And then my ankle rolled. And I heard a snap. And down I went.

Immediately, the area above my sneaker on my left foot looked like someone injected it with water. It was a cankle.

My first reaction was please please please let this not be a broken ankle in the middle of Uwharrie National Forest.

My second reaction was pissed. PISSED. What was this going to do to my training schedule? My March 6th Marathon goal? My long run distance total?

Then, as I started the long, inevitably boring and scary walk back to the parking lot, another reaction started to take over. Something between resignation and peace. Basically, a "there's nothing I can do about it now, and it could have been worse, at least you're still up and walking, and maybe it's good for you to slow down," sort of reaction.

I was not expecting this reaction.

Now it's the day after. I've been off the cankle as much as possible, and have gotten it checked out by a doctor. Nothing is busted. I can elliptical by Friday, and probably run again next week, with only one week lost in training.

I'm still amazingly lucky. It still could have been a lot worse. And in many ways, it's a good thing. Here is a list of things I've learned:

1) I love trail running, I don't like dangerous running. If I'm afraid that a fall may hurt me, chances are I'm right, and as soon as the actual terrain stops me from having fun, I know that it's too much. I've had enough danger in my life riding horses, and while I still love the trails, I don't feel the need to over-do the dare-devil aspect of them.

2) I need to keep my elliptical in my weekly cross train. The last few weeks its been "all running," and I think that's why my muscles were a little too tired for this monster.

3) I need to STAY WITH THE GROUP WHEN I TRAIN. I'm sure that had I stayed with the guys instead of being in a hurry to finish, I would have stayed safe and still be running.

4) I can't overface my muscles. Even without the cankle, I would be down for the count simply because my thighs and butt feel like someone put them through a meat grinder. I know all about muscle pain, good and bad, and this is definitely in the latter category.

So here I am. Cankle on pillow, doctors orders in my head, and lots of lessons learned.