One day I was running happily along the bend in Central Park with not a care in the world. Trying to get faster and picking up pace, I was feeling great when all of a sudden a sharp pain in my ankle stopped me cold in my tracks. “What the hell is this? I don’t have time for pain. I’m training for a marathon with two smaller races in between. I can’t have this happening”.
Denial was my immediate response. “I’m not injured. It’s nothing. It will go away”. Or so I thought. With that I attempted to resume running the next day only to end up not being able to walk much less run. That’s when I decided it was time to get it checked out and learned I have an inflamed Achilles. I never had that before so I had no idea what happened, why, how long should the recovery take and so on. After a few days of rest, and still in denial, I attempted to run again and made it worse. Ugh, it was probably the most frustrating experience ever. Finally I realized I just needed to focus on recovery not training.
Anger was my next emotional response. I was so mad at myself for not being able to prevent it. In my head I kept on going over and over all the things that led upto it but I just felt more anger welling up in me. I was angry not just at myself but at everyone around me and any time anyone asked me about my injury I would just snap. I’m not very proud of those moments.
Eventually the next phase hit. Grief and sadness. I had to cancel two races I was scheduled to run as part of my marathon training. Completely broken hearted over my prospects or lack of thereof for a successful marathon had me shedding quite a few tears. Nothing, literally nothing affects me like this except for running. Deep and dark depression was starting to set in. What was the point of putting in the work and rehabbing this if this pain is so bad that it would take a long time to recover and I would have to cancel more and more of my races? I was losing the will to continue doing other activities but was forcing myself. I wanted to quit it all. It’s too hard and too emotionally painful to endure. If I just quit I won’t have to deal this kind of disappointment. The struggle would be over. I came very close.
Then God reached out to me and all of a sudden I felt a huge urge to fight. “Fight for what you hold dear! Don’t give up! Fact is, you don’t know all the answers and you don’t have to. All you need to know is what is your next step”. For me that meant continuing cross training and rehabbing my injury. I doubled down on my physical therapists, faithfully did all the rehab exercises, and attacked this thing with all I had. I decided it’s not over till it’s over and continued with the travel plans for my marathon.
About two weeks before the race, instead of tappering I actually had to build a little since I missed two full weeks of heavy training. Scared and cautious I resumed running with a 3 miler first. When that went well I bumped it to 5 the next day, then 8 two days after, and finally 10 a week before the race. My last 5 miler happened three days before the race. I felt good and fast and it was giving hope I can pull this off. But it was not over yet. The next phase was looming.
Self doubt and fear hit me hard a couple of days before the race. I couldn’t get any sleep. All I was hearing were voices telling me that I will have a miserable experience, fall flat on my face, get seriously hurt and be out of commission for the rest of the year. I felt God reaching out to me again and telling me not to be afraid. And so I trusted His voice and rejected the fear. I got only two hours of sleep the night before my race. When I finally woke up on race day I became acutely aware of the fact that I had a migraine and PMS to deal with on top of everything else. But I was already in a fighter’s state of mind so I just put that aside and decided it doesn’t matter. I’m doing this!
Excitement mixed with anxiety was palpable. It was finally go time. Most runners will tell you that you know how the race will go soon after you start. It’s very true. As soon as I started I knew it was going to be great. I felt strong and powerful, going so fast I was shocking myself. I ran the first 11 miles at my 10k pace. No I didn’t do the classic busting out too fast. This was my very calculated strategy. Since I couldn’t do many long runs due to my injury, I knew my legs would fatigue if I took too long. Also the first 11 miles were flat and then there are rolling hills for about 4 miles. So my strategy was to run the first easy flat part of the course as fast as I could but still under lactate threshold. Hills were next and I had to slow down to manage the effort, and then go only as fast as was necessary. As I continued running I became aware of the fact that nothing hurt. My ankle was fine and my migraine was gone. I felt great and for the first 15-17 miles my legs felt fresh and strong.
Fatigue started to set in around 18-19 miles. This was expected since the conditioning you need to run a marathon only comes from those very long runs. I only had three of those in my training and I was feeling it. By the end of 19th mile I thought I was done. Legs felt heavy and very tired. I was starting to lose the will to continue. I didn’t think I could. That’s when I asked God for help. “I’m done”, I said. “It’s all you from here on”.
Then all of a sudden I noticed about 4-5 guys in bright green shirts surround me. They were very cheerful and talkative. They looked like they were having a great time and yet they weren’t passing me. I was confused. Who actually looks like this at mile 19? One of them started talking to me. Puzzled by what was happening, I asked him how is he able to feel this good so late in the game. That’s when he said “Oh we are not competing, we are here for you, to motivate you, encourage you and just provide support”. I honestly thought I was hallucinating. But he continued running along side me, stopping to walk when I did, getting me water and even getting in front of me during a couple of windy parts so he could block the wind. I was overwhelmed as I realized God sent His angels to help me. Oh they were real people but they were commissioned to do what they did.
As we made the final turn at mile 26, he pointed to the banner up ahead and said “Here’s your finish line, go get it”! He waved goodbye and disappeared. Still in disbelief I turned my attention to the banner up ahead and saw the clock. In my amazement it was showing me that I was about to make a personal record and all of a sudden strength returned to my legs and I sprinted to the end with all my might. I hit a personal record beating my best time by about 3 minutes. Being a lot less prepared and not 100 percent recovered from my injury I did better than during a flat and easy race that I was well prepared for. Unbelievable.
Still in a daze I knew I had to find the VIP tent because that’s where I was meeting my husband. As soon as I got there I just collapsed. Two more wonderful angels rushed over to me. They were physical therapists. One started to massage my legs as my hamstring was cramping pretty badly and the other got me some champagne and helped me sit up. They even went as far as flag my husband. I thought ok I’m dead because I must be in heaven. The massage helped tremendously as I was able to get up and walk around like nothing happened. We stayed in the tent and enjoyed the food and drinks for hours. The weather was glorious! Truly an amazing experience.
Gratitude was washing over me. I had so many people to thank. Particularly my angel Pat, who stayed with me for that last 10k stretch. Reflecting back I can tell you that all the negative experience leading up to the race was worth it. Even the injury and the emotional pain that came with it. It made me grow and it made me stronger both emotionally and physically.
Fighting is hard but it’s essential for success. Giving up would have been easy but it would have robbed me of one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life. So go on and chase your dreams, overcome fear and press ahead with a new resolve to be a better and stronger you.