Physical Therapy

I went to my first physical therapy session yesterday.  First ever.  It felt odd.  Like I didn't belong there; I was "out of my league."  I'm 45-years-old for goodness sake.  I've got three boys, a husband, a house to clean, laundry and meals to make.  I've got a teaching job and dreams of becoming a published novelist.  Yet, there I was, laying on a table while Kevin (my therapist) poked and proded every muscle to pinpoint just which ones were injured.  He found them all right -- three of them, in my left hip, just under my IT band.

Ouch.

After pinpointing that, he stretched my legs (more so than I ever do), and "rubbed" out my muscles (I don't know what it's called, but it's like a deep, hard massaging).  I did some exercises, had some electrodes attached to the hip with a comfortable pillow-like sack of ice over the injury.  It all lasted an hour and a half exactly.

Like I said.  This was my first time.  I don't even know the words to adequately describe the session.  I know that I felt better afterwards -- looser, but even more so, hopeful.  I felt hopeful that my running aspirations for the year might be met. 

It seems kinda ridiculous that I have running aspirations.  I mean, this is my hobby.  No, it's something more than my hobby.  "Hobby" just seems like the closest word to describe it right now.  What are my running aspirations for the year?  I'm not going to do the 20 races like 2009.  Instead, I just want Calico (check), Silverado footrace (check) and 3 marathons.  In addition to the 3 marathons, I'm aiming for my first 50k. 

Both my doctor and Kevin seemed optimistic about me running the marathon mid-April.  "But now is the time for healing," Kevin warned.  I am under direction to do nothing that causes pain in my hip -- even flat runs.  On the way out, I asked "What if I have only a little pain, can I run?"

"Only a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10, then you can," he said.  "But DON'T RUN 12 MILES.  Run 3."

I laughed outloud.

"Long distance runners," he chuckled.  "You're all the same!"

Long distance runner?  That is remarkably odd to me.  I'm no long distance runner.  I'm a dreamer, a drifter of sorts, an escape artist who happens along the way, to chalk up the miles.  That's who I am.

I do have every intention of following doctor's and therapist's orders though.  And so when I woke this morning, and I actually felt pain in my left hip, I chucked my running plans (I went to the gym in the evening, and even chucked the abductor and adductor weights AS ORDERED).  And though I worked-out an hour and a half, I did nothing that caused pain in my hip.

Miles logged today:  0

Therapy orders followed:  100%

ps.  some funny things today:
1)  My 8-year-old boy went for a run today because he was feeling agitated.  He said it makes him feel better to run.
2)  My 10-year-old boy said to me, "Mom, those other runners, they're running FREAKS."  He was giving me a pep talk about following doctor's orders. : )       

Doctor's Orders

Well, the redness on my hip turned to welts, and the welts grew, moving further down my hip. It was time. Time to finally see the doctor. The welts subsided a great deal by the time I made it in. The news is good -- I've got an overuse injury that turned into a strain. He also said that I'm pretty lucky sliding down those slippery hills (leaning into my hip) on Saturday, that I didn't herniate a disc. Good thing. Doctor's orders are: no hill running whatsoever and physical therapy. Good news is, flat running is okay.

Yahoo!

Well, I am bummed about the no trails thing. I can hang though. I can hang.

The good doctor of course said nothing about mileage. He knows about my marathon mid April, so I kinda figured he knew I want mileage. : )

And so on this beautiful day, after getting all the boys off to school, I drove down to the marina. The skies were full of grand clouds, the sun peering out here and there. The weather was deliciously cool.

Marvelous.

My hip ached for the first couple miles. At the campground when I stopped for water, I stretched. Every fountain after that, I stretched some more. Eventually, I ran carefree with no ache. And I would have kept on running had I not needed to get home and do some chores before getting ready for work.

I won't deliberate on this run any longer, except to say,

Miles logged: 11.71

And oh yes, I couldn't resist with the camera phone.

Capistrano Beach -- we call it "Capo" around here (because we don't like talkin' much)

A lot of folk consider this "Capo", but it's actually the far end of Doheny. AND THIS IS THE ASPHALT PARKING LOT : ) We had us a little tsunami the day of the Silverado Footrace.

Lupin! Lovely Lupin.

ps. I so much want to run tomorrow. I'm holding back though, don't want to push too hard. Besides, tomorrow physical therapy begins.

Loosen Up Run

I drove down to the marina for a loosen-up run this afternoon.  I was feeling a bit stiff after the Silverado Footrace.  Mainly my shoulders and upper back ached. 

There was not a parking spot to be found, so I parked across the street and ran into the wharf.  The skies were blue, pelicans hung out on the boat ramps.  People lined the walkway with luggage in their hands for a trip to Catalina.   I felt good, light on my feet.  Then somewhere after crossing onto the island, at about mile three, a shrieking pain suddenly hit my hip.  I didn't shriek.  My hip did.  It felt like someone had stabbed me there with a knife and was twisting it as I ran.  I stopped to stretch, walked a few steps, then took off running again.  Stopped to stretch a couple more times and ran all the way back to my car.

Miles logged:  3.61

The Great Silverado Footrace

Rain began to pour about 2AM last night, and I awoke about every hour.  5:30 AM, I finally said, "What the heck" and got out of bed.  I felt like I slept very little.  Rain continued to pour all morning.  6:45 or so, I hopped in the car to pick up donuts for the boys, and my Dad arrived soon after to take care of the household while we were gone.  That's right WE.  Dave was doing this race with me.  : )

I really wasn't too thrilled about running in the rain.  But at the same time, I wasn't gonna let The Great Silverado Footrace pass me by.  So, we left about 7:20 in the POURING RAIN, and the downpour continued all the way into Silverado Canyon.  We even hydroplaned on the freeway.

Waiting for the start (clean and warm), rain has ceased or at least slowed to a drizzle, maybe, just maybe the rain has stopped for good.  I've got 2 shirts on, a tank and a t-shirt, plus sleeves, a camelback full of water and two running belts (one in front, the other in back) -- in them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chapstick, gum, motrin, endurolytes, camera and phone, bandaids and a couple papertowels.  This is a self-supporting race.  No aid stations. 

Waiting to go, standing with Chris Diaz (who I have met on a few occassions, 09 Silverado Footrace & Calico, plus running Santiago Truck Trail in 08)

Me and Race Director, Chay Peterson

Me and hubby, raring to go -- rain has ceased!!  Why, you may wonder, the nerdy socks?  So that I don't end up with scratched and bloody calves.

Chay giving race instructions

At Start Line -- still no rain : )))))

The race began on the road, rain still refraining from falling. Then after hopping the guard rail, we went for a very short downhill stint, and the steep, muddy climb began. Being toward the back of the pack made the climb more difficult with the slippery terrain torn up from the front runners. Relief came with the down hill. We squeezed through a barbed-wire fence. We climbed down a rock face, with the aid of a rope. Wearing gloves, I found going down that rope much easier than climbing it last year.

Heat built up inside my rain jacket. Finally, I stopped to tie it around my waist. Dave folded his up tight and tucked it away neatly somewhere (I'm still not sure where : ). I'm not like that, I'm quick and sloppy -- just get the job done. But that hanging jacket annoyingly caught on the thicket, and I wished I had taken the time to fold it away. I really had no such place to tuck it though. The socks however, worked out great. While sticks poked into my face, and knees, they also tore at my socks. And my calves took no harm. : )

Breath Taking! Looking back on Holtz Ranch, Silverado Canyon (notice the picture at top of my blogspot, same scene, different year : )

So, so slippery

Racing thru the forest, crawling at times beneath branches, feet sinking in mud

Branches/trees thin out, mud coats the shoes

And then the rain began to fall. The climb seem to go on forever. There were spots were I crawled like a cat, the climb was so steep. And there were times, when I could not get a grip on the land, I kept sliding downhill when I was supposed to go up. One point was so tough, the sweeper (I believe his name was Jeff) directed me around the slippery climb, where I could grip my feet into the leaf litter. It was tough, tough, tough. I had to use heavy duty uppper body strength to pull off the feat. Dave pushed me from the rear to get me up one slippery slope. Other times, as I slid backward, I grabbed onto trees and shrubs, hoping I wasn't going to yank them right out of the wet dirt.

I kept that rain jacket tied around my waist for a long time. Branches tore at my limbs as I braced my foot on rocks in the mud.   Dave and I switched off who led.  I hoped for the rain to cease.  Though it did not, I didn't feel cold.  I continued to snap photos, and I continued to offer words of encouragement to Dave.  Though, I don't think that helped.  I think it would have been better to shut my mouth.  Things like, "we're almost to the top," "don't look at the top," "put one foot in front of the other," or "breathe through your diaphragm," he didn't need me to tell him that.  Hubby was very kind though and took this from me.  I'm a teacher by nature (& profession) and I'm always trying to find ways to make things easier for people -- which is how I get through these physical feats.  I come up with ways to make it easier.  Like DON'T LOOK AT THE TOP OF THE HILL.  Just keep going forward.  Have some mantra to repeat again and again.  It can be, "forward, forward, forward," or something more complicated, like a poem or a song.

Anyway, we joked and even sang a tad, remembering lines from movies as we slid up and down that mountainside.  And the rain came down more.   And the wind blew cold.  But it was a beautiful sight, a beautiful, slippery, grinding sight.

More Climbing Ahead

What we've been through, where we're going back to



Self-portrait -- I'm looking pretty ragged and old here, but I'm gonna put it in anyway : ) 

Downhills weren't always easier, because it was so slippery and muddy (notice orange ties in bottom right corner -- we followed these)  HOWEVER, I think that I am mistaken -- this is an uphill, I am looking back to take this photo.  Still, the same holds true; the downhills were tough as well.

So close, but yet so far!

These were the easy parts, when there’s leaf litter to dig into and rocks to grip onto.

The terrain got a little easier, that is the climbs were less steep.  But the hillside was much muddier.  My Salomon shoes held up great.  Toward the end though, I plunked my foot directly in the creek.  From then on out, I had a few pieces of gravel in my shoes.  Ouch.  I also fell twice toward the end of this race.  Once flat on my back, but it was more of a slide than a fall, so I'm not adding it to my fall talley.  I twisted my shoulder some, but nothing terrible.  The next time I fell was on that final descent, homeward bound trip.  I just slipped going downhill, again which is why I'm not adding it to my fall count.  I'm not adding it, because eventhough I ended up on my back, it wasn't an actual "fall" that got me there -- it was a slip due to the mud.  That second "slip" I don't recall injurying anything. 

When we finally hit the road, I ran it in all the way, because I just gotta cross the finish line running.  But I'll tell you, I really wiped out my hip.  It's like I'm back to square one with my injury.  (Hopefully, it will be better tomorrow -- more about that then tomorrow :)

Back at the community center they had an awesome spread of food laid out for all of us -- pork and chicken fahitas, cookies, drinks, etc.  We both filled up our plates.  Dave however said that he didn't even feel like eating.  I however, was famished and ate up. 

Just after crossing the finish line. 

Can you believe, after all that, more than three hours in the mountains, we only traversed five miles!  Anyone who is local -- you've got to do this race -- it's the toughest around.  Seriously.  I have been in some tough races.  Calico was tough.  But I've done that NINETEEN  miles in less than 5 hours.  Bulldog 25k was tough, but I did those FOURTEEN miles in less time than these FIVE miles today.  My best 5 miles is around 48 minutes.  Hopefully that gives you some kind of idea of the difficulty of The Great Silverado Footrace.  I highly recommend you do it if you can.

To borrow someone else's words, I'm sure, HAPPY RUNNING.  (That's right, those are Jessica Deline's words : ) 

Miles logged today:  5
Injuries:  Minor -- scraped and bruised left knee.  Not-so-minor:  my hip, it's red and swollen and hot to the touch and aches (I contribute the setback to my hip from slidding downhill)  Ice, ice, ice -- that's my remedy tonight.  That, plus motrin. 

Always an Adventure

Tuesday, I planned to hit the trails as soon as I dropped my oldest boys at school.  Turns out my oldest forgot his violin and I had to run back to the car, drive home, get the violin, drive back to school, and run to his orchestra class to get it to him.  I was fuming -- that detour cut at least a half hour into my trail time.  But boy did I pull back on the reigns.  Yes, he knew that I was annoyed.  But I didn't go on and on about it.  I don't want him as a thirty-year-old man remembering how Mom used to freak out over little things like him forgetting his violin.  What I did was this:  arriving to orchestra, I handed him his violin and kissed and hugged him, told him that I loved him, have a good day, etc., etc., in the sweetest voice ever in front of the whole orchestra (I am a devil -- I even debated calling him "Pookie," but decided against it).  That was about the worst thing ever for him, he squirmed, scowled. (I figured the embarrassment will help him to REMEMBER his violin next time : ) 

I started off my run with the notion that I'd use the hours to think up a title for a short story I wrote the day before.  It's for a contest and I was squeezed for time, since it's due today Feb. 24 by 9 PM.  Well, about FIVE minutes into my run I came up with the title.  So, I had about 13 miles to think about absolutely nothing.  I like that.  Thinking about nothing.

My run on Tuesday was an out-and-back, through the canyons, up to the ridge to Top of the World, and then back the same way (Aliso to Wood Cyn, up Cholla, up Westridge). Generally, I don't like out-and-backs -- I find them difficult mentally, mainly because when I pass something, I know I have to do it again.  I like passing things for good.

My hip felt good, though a bit achey -- it really has improved lately.  I've been keeping up with the same regimen, but increased the icing dramatically.  Basically, every time I think about icing, I do it. I was getting worried, being that I'm registered for a marathon in April.  Now, I'm hopeful.

At Top of the World, I phoned home and learned that the spouse had a deadline looming and was stressed about picking up the boys (it was early-out-day, plus the littlest gets out even earlier being he's in preschool).  Seven miles out, that is, the entire return trip, I decided to run fast enough to make it in time to pick up the boys.  I was gonna really have to push it.  I took that first downhill at that fun "flying" speed, focusing hard not to fall.  Then there at the Mathis/Westridge interesection stood an elderly couple with a questioning expression.  They looked directly at me and said, "We're lost."

I stopped.  I asked how they got there, they weren't sure.  I said, holding my hand at a steep slant, "Was it like this?  Or, like this?" I moved my hand up and down like a ridge route wave.  Turns out, it was a ridge.  "But," the woman added, "it was like this at first."  She held her hand up at a slant. (I communicate with my hands often.)

Ok, they came up Cholla then hiked Westridge.  They were good!  That's no easy hike.  I almost sent them off the wrong way, because he said they wanted to get to Aliso Creek, which turned out to be the exact opposite way they needed to go.  They said that they entered through a grassy park, and pointed off toward a neighborhood in the distance.  I knew exactly where they entered.  I suggested a couple routes, they decided on Mathis to Wood Canyon.  I warned them to stay on Mathis, that if they didn't cross a stream, then they probably turned off on another trail (I was concerned they might turn off onto Dripping Cave).  "Cross the stream," I said, "then make a left on Wood Canyon."

They smiled and set off happily.  The man turned back just to make sure he had it.  "Go down Mathis and turn left on Cholla?"

(LOL)

"Wood Canyon.  You can't miss it, it's just after the stream."  : )

So, after that delay, I hauled *** up and down Westridge, and had a delightful fast run down Cholla.  Wood Canyon was fun as well.  Though I was growing tired, I kept up the speed.  And then for some crazy reason, I ran hugging the edge of this bowl-like portion of the trail and nearly had a head-on collision with a cyclist coming the other way at a crazy speed.  Yikes.  Fortunately, I jumped out of the way without him correcting in the same direction.  Actually, he was going too fast to do any type of correction.  At first a little annoyed,  I realized my fault.  I should have never been hugging the edge on a corner, especially not there.

A little over a mile on Wood Canyon, I realized that I hadn't seen the lost couple and thought -- there went my chance at making it in time to pick up my boys.  If I didn't see them by the time I reached Mathis, I had planned to stop by the ranger station and ask them to take a drive up Mathis.   But then I saw the cute couple wearing smiles on their faces -- "It was Aliso Viejo," the guy said, "not Aliso Creek."  I let them know that they were only about a mile and a half away from Canyon Vistas park, and I was on my way. 

Again, I pushed.  But my fast wasn't FAST.  Still, I ran faster than I would have been if I wasn't trying to beat a dead line.  Turns out, and this cracks me up, I made it back exactly when I told myself I had to in order to stretch and pick up my boys. 

Fantastic run.  Miles logged on Tuesday:   14

Today, Wednesday morning, I was giddy about my hip feeling pretty good.  After dropping the boys at school again, I drove down to the marina in my runnning pants and long-sleeve fleece.  But I live in California, and though it was dang cold at 6:00 AM, it was a different story at 8:00 AM.  The skies were gorgeous blue, with just a tad of whispy clouds. I was comfortably WARM (& getting warmer).

Pressed for time, I set off with about five miles in mind.  About a mile in, my ipod stopped.  I mean, instantly shut off.  A little bummed, I continued runninig on through the empty campgrounds and then the beach and marina.  What's funny is that the sounds amused me:  sounds of the birds, cars, people talking. 

Another delightful run, with only minor discomfort to the hip.  I wouldn't even call it "discomfort."  It was more like a strong stiffness. 

I'm keeping with the regimen, plus ice, ice, ice and more ice.

Miles logged Wednesday:  5.25

Run between Rains

Poured rain all night, and forecasts indicated we were in for the same over the next three days.  So when I woke this morning, and skies were blue, and eventhough I didn't much feel like it, I laced up my shoes and ran out the front door.  White puffy clouds dominated the skies.  Gigantic flocks of seaguls swooped in and out of the river as it flowed into the ocean.  The breeze was slight, yet cold, as a multitude of runners and bikers and walkers took advantage of the break in the rain. 

Miles logged this morning:  6.65