So I'm injured. Less than two weeks before my first full marathon- a goal I set for myself while lying in a hospital bed twenty-five pounds ago and vowed to complete regardless of the setbacks.
And maybe I was naive to think there wouldn't be any setbacks. I've struggled a lot in my life, but physical activity was the one area where I didnt generally encounter a lot of roadblocks. Sure, I had to work hard...but more often than not, working hard produced the results I wanted. Generally, the only variable involved in achieving physical accomplishments was the amount of effort I put forth. And given the unflinching determination that has somehow been woven into my psyche, I never really ran out of effort to give.
But now this is different, and an unexpected variable has been thrown in: structural injury. And quite honestly, I didn't know how to deal with it at first. I just kept pushing and pushing and biting into this goal like a dog with a bone.
So why hold on?
I'll tell you why. The marathon means something unique to each person who has put in the hours, the pain, and the commitment to complete it. Everyone has their reasons for wanting to endure such a mental and physical challenge, and no reason is less significant than the next. For this reason, it becomes very difficult to talk a runner out of pursuing a marathon once his or her eyes have been set on the finish line.
For me, running 26.2 represents accomplishment, coming back to life after a disorder that could have killed me without intervention, and strength in both mental and physical capacity. On July 19, The Mr. walked me into the hospital (a planned stay, strongly recommended by Dr. K) to start the process of becoming medically stable and starting to eat again. When we walked through those sliding glass doors, I had two books in my bag: "First Encounters With the Marathon" and "Ironman". The night before, I had purchased them at Borders. I knew I would have down time while lying there with an IV stuck in my arm...and I wanted to read something that would motivate me to do whatever it took to regain strength.
Lying there, my muscles weak and my ribs showing, my weight at nearly the lowest it had been since my high school swimming days, I started to realize that I was both wasting away and wasting my life. I realized, with fluids dripping into my veins and doctors monitoring my food intake, that I was so much stronger and better than all of it. If I had the mental strength to starve myself, ignore hunger, and not let go of the vision of "perfection" I had set in my mind...then I certainly had the strength to turn it all around and dump that energy into completing a marathon.
By that time, I was running 13-15 miles without issue (and also without food or fuel). I told myself that if I wanted to run a marathon and an ultramarathon, I would need to start eating. I would need to be okay with some weight gain. I would need to reframe my thinking related to food: it could no longer be the enemy. Food had to become what it is intended to be: a source of energy and fuel to power me through the physicality I would be putting my body through.
So pound by pound, I grew to accept the strength that was developing in me. I had moments of regression when I cried when I saw the number written in my charts (Dr. K never intended for me to see those). But in the back of my mind flashed the thought of running marathons, and that flash was generally enough to remind me that it was okay to see the number rise.
I started asking LA questions about proper fueling. I wanted to know more about nutrition for endurance athletes and ate and ate and ate. I delved into it, I learned about it. It propelled me. With time, I had shed the eating disorder and found new confidence, a new love and appreciation for my body and strength and grit.
Right or wrong (and I'm sure there are plenty who will judge), the marathon brought me back to life. Regardless of what happens this week and next related to the injury, physical therapy, and alternative workouts, 26.2 miles represents a hell of a lot more to me than just a medal or an athletic accomplishment.
I will listen to the doctor I will be seeing tomorrow (who I hear is pretty liberal and tends to lean to the "go ahead and run...just take painkillers!" side). I will follow directions. I will back off and save myself. I'll get in the pool and ice myself and retape. And if I'm given the green light to continue and to run the marathon, I'll be doing so driven by the fight that has gotten me this far.
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