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Thursday, April 25, 2019

Bad Liar

In case you haven't noticed by my blog titles, I have a deep love for Imagine Dragons.  They stole my heart with "It's Time" back in 2012, held onto it with their second album (If you're a runner and have never listened to "Whatever it Takes" - you need to), and most recently, their single "Bad Liar" has been jamming out on repeat so often I think my family is getting the wrong impression.  Cool it, guys - while I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee with Dan Reynolds, it's really Ed Sheeran and Ryan Reynolds you have to worry about - and I have no shame admitting that those boys could abscond with me any old time they wanted to two are amazing artists and I have nothing but deep respect for both. 

Ahem.  Where was I?

Oh right, Imagine Dragons.  You see, it seems I have something to confess.  While I sort of dropped off the face of the earth after my last race, I've written a few blog posts that sort of address some of the complex feelings I've had in the past few weeks. 

Cause I only sort of told you the truth.    I wasn't lying when I said I felt a bit lost post race - happy, sure, but a little dissapointed I didn't make my goal.  Optimistic I could, in fact, hit that BQ, but at the same time, a little bit at loose ends.

It hasn't gotten better.  In fact, it's gotten worse.  And I've fallen victim to only posting when things are either A) Going great and I can give everyone the "You can do it!" oooh-rah or B) When I have a set back and I've already figured out the answer and can look all wise and reflective as I impart my wisdom on to everyone.

Well that's just a bunch of bullshit. If I'm going to advise you to stare down adversary and overcome it - to look at the things that scare you and just GO FOR IT, then it's equally as important that I handle myself the same way and admit when I've gotten off on the wrong foot.

Which...is the problem.  Since running my last race, it seems my right foot is, in fact....the wrong foot.  It started out a day or so pre race, with some heel pain that went away after a bit.  Post race, I tried my best to recover intelligently (not my forte), and thought I had done so.  A week post race, I set out on a nice easy 8 miler that was my demise.  After that run, I couldn't walk for a day.  Or bear weight on my right foot, at all. 
I did what any stupid runner would do.  I googled the shit out of it.  First, I determined it was a bruised heel and stayed off of it for a few days.  Then I decided it was plantar fasciitis and bought arch supports, compression sleeves and a boot to fix it. 
"I don't have time for this foot injury" starter pack
I ibuprofined.  I iced.  I debated cutting the foot off and learning how to run with one leg.  I cursed.  I cried.  In general, I was a real pain in the ass.

You see, I had plans.  I signed up for a BQ redemption race....Buffalo, on May 26th.  I had aspirations of taking everything from Coffee Milk and applying it to a race with a course I at least half knew, with aid stations every mile or two and getting that whole "I BQed" goal conquered before tri season started.

Apparently, my body had other plans.  It's not all bad.  I've uploaded Trainer Road and spent a ton of time on my bike, which I needed to do - and with fun workouts like "Broken Finger", "Bald Knob" and "Darwin", I've worked on my power output and been highly amused at the same time (Clearly, I'm a terrible triathlete, and have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.  I know this.)  I've swam.  I've lifted.  But...I miss running. 

I'm not saying I've figured it out.  My foot pain, after almost two weeks, seems to have abated, so I'm thinking it was probably a bruised heel or my new shoes.  So yesterday, on whim of stupidity bravado, I signed up for a half marathon this weekend I've been eyeing.  It was intended to destroy my previous PR, which on paper is a 1:50 for a straight half, and a 1:49 for a full marathon split.  In training, I've hit 13.1 miles in 1:42.  So I clearly have things to do.

Of course, this morning, full of the same sense of false security, I went out on a run, intending to tempo 3 miles at a sub 8:00 split to see if I could pace a 1:45 half (which is my reasonable goal, seeing as I've done no speed work in a month).  Two miles into the three mile tempo, I nearly blacked out and hit the sidewalk. I felt dizzy, lightheaded, and my heart felt like it was going to explode.  With a 7:45 mile.  I picked myself up, walked it out, and gave it another shot.  I made it through, with two 3 milers in 23:58 and 24:22.  But it felt awful.  Why am I running a half marathon in 3 days?  I don't know.  (Well, we do know -I'm not that bright)

So, of course, I turn to Imagine Dragons for some inspo:

(So) Look me in the eyes, tell me what you see
Perfect paradise, tearin' at the seams
I wish I could escape it, I don't wanna fake it
Wish I could erase it, make your heart believe

But I'm a bad liar, bad liar
Now you know, now you know

All I know right now is...I don't know.  But I do know I'll figure it out, I just haven't yet.  And making peace with the fact that I don't have it all figure out is the only way to handle it right now.  Deep breaths. And (hopefully) one step at a time. 



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