All In

Very rarely in life are we faced with the decision to go all in or save the chips for later. If you were to really think about your life, most of life's defining moments allow you to still hold on to some chips: an emergency fund, Plan B, or a safety net.

While running a marathon is not akin to the birth of a child, or my wedding day, or accepting my first professional job...it's still up there. Perhaps it's the meaning I myself have attached to the miles and the accomplishment. Whatever the explanation, possessing the ability to run long distances holds a certain significance in my life.

While it has never been mentioned in my blog before (mostly because I didn't see its relevance until now), I was born with a bone disorder that caused some significant problems in my legs as a child. I developed tibial torsion, and my right tibia was reconstructed when I was 13. I spent that entire summer unable to walk, but returned to swimming almost as soon as I was recovered. Two summers later, the plate and hardware were removed from my leg and I went on with my life. Never used it as an excuse. Never really even disclosed it to anyone or spoke of it at all. I pushed it far back in my mind and plowed ahead with my life, the only evidence of struggle a fairly large scar on my shin.

I had absolutely no issues with this leg when I started running half marathons. It was only natural to move into the full marathon distance, so I just went for it. I truly forgot about my limitations; that I do not have the same capabilities as everyone else.

While I endured a stress fracture on my tibia before, I started to feel more discomfort within the last week or so, and the excrutiating pain had begun to shoot up my shin, into my knee, and even my hip. On Monday, the physical therapist focused entirely on pain management, and urged a doctor to get me in on Wednesday for some x-rays and evaluation.

While meeting with the doctor, I was told that I have about 30 miles left on my leg in its current condition. The previous stress fracture remains, as well as evidence of some smaller ones in other areas. Continuing on in this state for too much longer is putting me at risk of a break. A true break on the tibia, given my history, would require a rod be placed in my leg to reset it.

From a purely medical standpoint, according to the doctor, running the marathon in 9 days will probably not cause anymore damage that what is already present. Considering my recent mileage, running 26.2 miles is just another drop in the bucket.

But my mind started going...30 miles minus 26.2...leaves 3.8 miles to spare...

"You have about that left on it...it's just going to hurt like hell," And in his words "the large majority of doctors would tell you not to run on this at all..."

Then the real bomb...The inside of my tibia will always be at risk of fracture due to its poor alignment, no matter what we do. For this reason, the road marathon is an extremely high-risk pursuit for me in the future.

I can be a runner again...after what the doctor and physical therapist call "some serious work" involving biomechanic adjustments and orthotics and perhaps some more reconstruction. But I cannot be a marathon runner.

Unfortunately, that's precisely what I wanted to be.

I didn't think when I registered for this marathon that it would be both my first and last. I didn't question my ability to finish it or even my ability to hit my goal time (which was a bit of a lofty goal for a first-timer..but within reach). I saw this race as an entry point into a string of races that would eventually lead me to qualify for the great Boston Marathon, lots of finisher's medals, and colorful stories to share. The stuff marathon runners live for.

As the doctor put it earlier this week: I can think of these 30 miles as poker chips at my disposal.

I can go all in now and endure the pain...knowing this is the closest I may ever get to completing a road 26.2.

I can save the chips for later...knowing I may never get to use them in the future due to the risk involved.

When I left the sports medicine center that morning a few days ago, I was crying. A lot. I couldn't process the information and it didn't seem real. Sure, it's just running. But running has grown to mean a lot to me. And running full marathons...well, I think I've made it quite clear what that means to me too.

Mama K was my first and only phone call that day. I braced myself for what I was certain was coming: "M., this is just ridiculous now, it's not worth it. Just throw in the towel, it's okay. You don't need this accomplishment."

Instead she quietly listened, thought for a moment, and finally just said: "I think this might just be one of those times you have to go all in."

I'm not going to say Mama K's response was what gave me the willpower to forge ahead with this (stupid) race. But I realized her voice was just confirming my own thoughts, giving the reassurance I needed to give this goal a shot...even when the chips are seriously stacked against me.

I saw Dr. Joe last night for an appointment and filled him in. Another person who tends to err on the "cautious" side, I was anticipating that he would try to talk me down off this ledge with his patient and completely rational voice. Instead, he looked at me with somewhat sobering and very genuine eyes and said "M., I am very, very sorry. I know how much running future marathons meant to you."

And Dr. Joe, a runner himself, proceeded to coach me on how to give myself the best shot of completing my one and only marathon.

26.2 miles that I honestly don't know if I will be able to finish. 26.2 miles even the doctor isn't sure I will be able to finish, no matter how much grit and willpower I have. The pain may be too great.

In the end....this is one of life's "all in" moments. I am given one shot at something I want. Regardless of what happens, I'm all in.

It just means that much too me. Whether it should or not. It just does.