Running

Cook Forest 25K Trail Challenge

So, I did a last thing last weekend. Several months ago in a running group I am, I spotted a post about the Cook Forest 25K Trail challenge. Normally, I would stay away from trail races because I am a giant klutz, and I cannot afford another accident. This one was different thought – this challenge didn’t have a time limit!

I asked my friend, Tammy, if she wanted to do this trail race with me. She agreed, and thus began our training for this race. We spent weekends doing long trail hikes at Frick Park in weather that could be best described as “swampy.” Not fun, friends.

The conditions for the Cook Forest 25K Trail Challenge were similar. I was hoping for a break from the humidity but Mother Nature just said “Nah.” During the second mile, we kept just going up, and up, and up. I struggled trying to get my heart rate to calm down and had to stop multiple times to regroup. Honestly, if my friend wasn’t with me, I probably would have turned back around and DNF’d the race.

I’m glad that I did power through. I’m stubborn but as you can see from this picture, I took every step carefully. I had two goals for this race: finish and finish without injuring myself.

Cook Forest is gorgeous. This was my first time hiking in this forest, and I am a big fan. It’s gorgeous. Honestly, this race reminded me why I love being out in the trails so much. Some folks like to go to the beach – me, I want to go play in a forest.

The weather absolutely sucked throughout the race, but my goodness, look at the scenery. Plus, I got to spend almost 6 hours traipsing along in a forest with a good friend.

The conditions were brutal, but Tammy and I finished. When the official race results posted, I learned that I actually came in last place. My first DEAD FUCKING LAST at a race. Haha, I am so proud. I am pretty sure Before Cancer (BC), I would have been bummed about my last place. Nope, not bummed in the slightest. I might have been last place, but I was probably the only runner there with MBC. First in my Age Group, baby.

Some Type of Normal

For the first time in almost two months, I went for a run today. Well, it was more like a “jog” than a run based on my effort and time. Still, it does not matter. I put on my running shoes, and I moved this body of mine 3 miles around the Northside of Pittsburgh. I decided to stay in a relatively flat area because I am nowhere in the shape to conquer hills.

I went down the path on River Ave and just focused as much as I could on my form and breathing. When I run, I can clear my head of all my worries and anxiety. This run was different because I wanted to be even in more touch with my form, my breathing, and my general sense of being.

With each step, I made sure to step as light-footed as possible. I don’t want to be hard on my knees, ankles and shins, especially since Aromatase Inhibitors are brutal on bones. By the time I reached around Heinz Field, I began feeling pain in my ankle. Never in my life have I ever had problems with my ankles. If I had to guess, my AI was the cause of that ankle pain.

Since my hysterectomy, I have only managed to walk 2 miles at the most. I ran 3 miles today! My pace was 13:40, which is 2 minutes slower than my pre-MBC time. Honestly, now that I am dealing with metastatic breast cancer, every completed run is a win. Besides this blog post, there will be no more comparison to who I was as a runner before MBC , because that Lara is gone and she ain’t coming back. I won’t waste time mourning something I can no longer change if only I trained hard enough.

I don’t have the time.

This is a new normal, and I’m going to adapt to it. I used to to say I took up running because I wanted to see what my body can accomplish after cancer showed me how my body failed me. I was wrong. I was so wrong. My body didn’t fail back then. It did what it does – it formed cysts and tumors. I see it clearly now, and it came to me during my run today

My body, this ever-involving flawed vessel that carries me around, is amazing and capable of so much. It endured the violent onslaught of early stage cancer treatment. It… I have ran thousands of miles, finishing races that most people don’t even try or can do. My body has been beaten up, both by illness and by my own making, but I endure. I have fucking endurance.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t think I can beat stage 4 cancer, and this is not where I’m going with this. My goal is to endure for as long as I can, and it is going to be accomplished by one, slow run at a time. I’m going to keep moving and stay upright for as long as I can, and when it’s time to rest, I will know I gave it everything I could. The miles I log will tell my story.

Running in the time of ‘Rona

For as long as I can remember, I have dealt with anxiety in some form or the other. The diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety Disorder has been stamped on my medical charts since my early 20s. However, I am not ashamed of it. This is who I am, and my brain is just wired a tad differently. I am also certain that anyone who meets me in person could pick up on the fact that I’m anxious after 5 minutes of conversation. I feel as if my anxiety is as much a part of my personality as much as my ridiculous ability to remember random movie or television trivia. I am who I am, and who I am is anxious.

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My anxiety had a heckuva time after my cancer diagnosis, where every unfamiliar pain or ache led my brain to leap to the “YOUR CANCER IS BACK OH MY GOD” conclusion. It’s cliché, but it is true for me that anxiety is fear of the unknown. I started running in 2013 as a way to cope with my anxiety and well, just life.

I am never going to be that person who says, “Oh running is my therapy” because that is such a BS, tone deaf statement for anyone with actual mental health problems, like anxiety. No, therapy is my frickin’ therapy. Running is just one of the several tools I use to help manage my anxiety. While I run, my brain quiets and I’m not overthinking. It’s my meditation.

Enter Covid-19, and one of my tools to managing for my anxiety transformed into one of my sources of stress and anxiety, instead of my respite from them. Normally, I am a road runner. When the pandemic first began, I would try to avoid as many people as I could while running some of my common paths. However, other Pittsburghers would have the same idea as me, and I ended up playing the “excuse me” game to small groups of people either running, walking or riding their bike.

Whenever I witnessed people not social distancing or not wearing masks, I would feel a combination of anger and helplessness about them not following the rules. I missed running with my friends, and I was running solo. Why can’t they follow the rules?!? What makes them so special?!? Oh lord, this pandemic will never end….

As soon as I realized that after a run, I was routinely walking back to my car in a fit of rage, instead of my normal state of productive exhaustion, I knew I had to make a change.

I decided to switch from road running to trail running to stay away from as many people as I could.

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If you know me and my history of trail running, then you’d know this is a big deal because I am not really confident when it comes to trail running. Like, not at all. I have done a handful of trail races without actually having ever trained for a trail race. Unsurprisingly, I did not do particularly well at these races. In summer 2019, I signed up for three ridiculously difficult trail race. I completed two of those races, and the third one I gave up after the first loop (my first DNF – did not finish).

When I decided to start primarily running trails, I was signed up for a race in August that I knew would be canceled. However, I figured that it was good motivation to get me out there on the trails anyway. (Turns out, I was right, and the race was recently postponed until 2021.)  Regardless, this race that never was turned out to be great motivation to get me out there.

Trail running is hands down much more difficult than road running, and in the past, I have been discouraged from trail running due to that very fact. It is hard. The elevation gain, and terrain that can send you flying down a hillside face-first if you’re not careful, all make for an adventurous and challenging task. I’m a klutzy person in general, so someone like me trail running is asking for trouble.

These last months trail running has changed something in me and how I see myself as a runner. I really enjoy trail running, and at the same time, I’m still not very fast or good at it. Finally, I got to my moment of Zen about trail running: Who cares!?!

When I am running in the woods, I never feel so alone yet so connected to something bigger than me. As I huff and very much puff along the trail path, I can focus on what I hear and do not hear. I listen out for other runners or hikers on the path, or the sound of mountain bikes coming toward me at a speed I do not understand or wish to emulate.

The views I get to see on my trail runs are incredible and oftentimes, I just stop my watch and take in my surroundings. I rarely take pictures whenever I do that because I don’t believe I can truly capture what it is all I am seeing. It’s not just the sights. It’s the smells and the sounds. The symphony of birds chirping or birds rhythmically pecking at trees entertain me.

I like whenever I pass by spots where uprooted trees have toppled down the hillside. Sometimes the base of the tree where the roots are jutting out look like a creature straight out of Jim Henson’s imagination, and I expect to see a pair of sleeping monster eyes open from their slumber.

Other joys of trail running include spotting creatures I normally don’t see on the road. I have seen groundhogs, and been stopped in my tracks to wait for deer to leave the path. One time, a small feral black cat crossed my path. As soon as the little spooky kitty spotted me, it dashed the other way and I felt the opposite of cursed. I had to make a last second leap to avoid accidentally stepping on a tiny toad. Squirrels and chipmunks are a constant sighting, and they rustle the branches and brush alongside the trail as I run by. Sometimes I feel like I have been transported in a Bob Ross painting, even during a heat wave that’s making me sweat buckets at 6:30 am.

I don’t that many other people often during my run, and that’s been my saving grace during this pandemic. I do miss running with my trail buddies, but for now, I have to keep at this by myself for the time being. The time I am spending by myself and challenging myself at something that has been daunting to me for so long has been wonderful for my self-esteem. I can do hard things. Maybe when we’re allowed to have races again, I will sign up for more and actually do well because I am getting over my weird complex about trail running.

No matter what, I am kicking ass by just finishing these runs. It doesn’t matter that my pace is slow compared to others. Who cares? I am having fun, and my quads are getting even more massive (you can’t see it, but I am smirking with pride right now). I am a runner without a single race to train for, and what a change of pace this has been…. Um, pun not intended.

Richmond Marathon Recap

For my latest marathon recap, I thought I about adding some inspirational running quote meme at the beginning, but I couldn’t find one that perfectly summed up how I felt about this race. I am the World’s Okayest Runner, and I would like to explain why I no longer want to run stupid long distances anymore.

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I want to preface this by saying that I worked with a coach for this training cycle, and she was amazing. I would not have even gotten to the start line at the Richmond marathon without her guidance and training plan. I hope my thoughts and feelings about running stupid long distancdes do not cast any negative light on her or her coaching.

I thought I had a more difficult time with my long runs during this training cycle. The heat and humidity never seemed to relent, and I ended most runs feeling like I just went through hell and back. I know a lot of people will say, “Those runs just mean you’ll go so much faster when it gets colder!” However, when each run feels like a battle and you end each one feeling sweatier than you ever thought possible, it can affect someone’s motivation and by someone, I mean, mine. I just felt defeated.

A month and a half before the race, I injured my left shoulder and had to refrain from cross training and strength training. I honestly haven’t the foggiest on what I did to injure my shoulder, which is the same one I hurt a week before the Pittsburgh marathon. Unlike the Pittsburgh marathon, this 2nd go around with the shoulder pain lasted a lot longer and felt way more intense. I could still run and do my training runs since I wasn’t swinging my arms around wildly as I ran.

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The week before Richmond, I was finishing a track workout when my groin muscle felt tight but not pulled or anything. “Weird,” I thought that day but never gave it much thought. I had a pulled groin muscle 10 or so years ago, and this definitely did not give me the same “Oh Crap” feeling.

On Race Day, everything felt as good as it was going be. I did not wake up with any pain in my shoulder or groin. That second part turned out to not be true around mile 6 or 8 when I was making good time. My groin began to ache as I ran, and now and then, I shook my leg and hip out in a futile attempt to loosen something up.

The wind played a big factor in the race for me. While it wasn’t freezing weather or anything, it was chilly and the slightly above normal winds made it pretty darn cold at times. The absolute worst part of the marathon was the bridge, which ended up being the start of the Wall. As the wind whipped my face and made my fingers numb, I thought, “Well, this isn’t going to end the way you had hoped for.” All of us were running against the wind, and I am sure my eyes were not the only ones fighting watery eyes.

After the bridge, the Wall showed up, and from then on, it was a battle and I’m pretty sure I lost. My groin pain got worse, and around mile 21 or 22, the other side of my groin started hurting as well. I wonder if this is the result of the cold not letting up and my body never having gotten comfortable.

The downhill finish at the Richmond Marathon was supposed to be a welcome relief to runners at the end of the race. For me, the downhill finish line made my groin muscle scream, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” A volunteer coach toward the end saw my face and the struggle, and she ran with me for a short bit. I told her that my groin hurt, and she said, “After you finish, keep moving. Don’t stop moving.” The Richmond volunteers were absolute champs and amazing.

When I crossed the finish line, I unleashed what I was holding back for 18 or so miles. I started crying but not because I was overcome with emotion – I was overcome with pain. Some poor girl handed me my finisher medal and said “…. congratulations?” to me, as I took the medal from her.

I was very cold before the race.
I mean, really cold.

I can now say I am a four-time marathonner, and that’s how it’s going to be for the time being. For a hot minute, I thought I would train for a 5th marathon in the spring and perhaps do a 50K race in June, and then say See YA to long distances. As soon as I crossed the finish line, my face stained with tears, I knew that Richmond would be my last marathon for the time being. Between the shoulder and groin, I am not convinced that I am built for stupid long distances.

I am burnt out and disheartened. No matter how much effort I put forth and how hard I work for a marathon, I keep getting the same results. I am looking forward to dropping down to half marathons again. Plus, my busy season at work will be kicking into high gear very soon (like, as soon as I get back from Thanksgiving break). I need to take away any voluntary stressors since work is more important than running.

The beauty of all this is I get to figure out what I want to do next, and then work on achieving that goal with a smile on my face and a spring to my step.

I want to end this recap by memorializing some of the cool things I saw during the Richmond marathon race:

  • A man dressed in an inflatable T-rex costume for the full marathon. From what I heard, he finished the whole race in that costume and in an impressive time.
  • An elderly man with a cane was in the middle of the road during mile 20 or 21. He was borderline heckling us. “I thought this was a race, but this might be the end of it because y’all are WALKING.” Haha, dude. Give us a break. This is a lot of miles!
  • This college-aged girl – who had been hanging out on a porch with a couple of dudes and cheering on runners for the race – shouted, “THAT IS THE CUTEST FUCKING DOG I HAVE EVER SEEN” at this middle aged couple just walking a golden retriever. TBH, it was a really cute golden retriever, and I totally get her intense response to the dog.
  • A DJ at one of the music stations was calling out runners individually by their Bib. I had the pleasure of hearing, “Huffman… rules. That’s right you do.” I gave a fist bump, a la John Bender at the end of the Breakfast Club.
  • My friends Abbie and Naomi at the end cheering me when everything hurt and I was questioning all my life’s choices. My friends are pretty damn awesome.

I’m trying to smile here but it might be more of a grimace.

 

Sports Star

I am currently training for my fourth marathon. Once again, I will be attempting to run the Richmond Marathon in November. Last year, I attempted to run this marathon but after my [redacted] diagnosis, that ended up not happening. My head was definitely not in the headspace that it needs to be in order to finish a marathon.

Something definitely feels different this time around, and I know exactly why – my weekly appointments with a personal trainer. On Monday, the trainer took me to the downstairs gym with “the big boys” and had me back-squat 85 lbs and leg press 115 (or around there).  I actually have some upper body strength, and my legs (especially my quads) are looking massive!  Remember when obtaining a thigh gap was all the rage? I’m doing the opposite right now – closing up that gap.

Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but it definitely paints a picture in the changes I am currently seeing. I can bench press around 40 lbs, and given that I could barely do 5 lb weights over a year ago, that is big for me.

I stayed away from strength training, especially the upper body, because I could never really adjust to my chest post-mastectomy. I’d feel the tiniest bit of pulling and go “NOPE, not doing it.” Since I have been working with a trainer, I have gotten over that fear and have been pushing through it.

I joked to my trainer that I should be an Instagram Un-influencer. Instead of being a perfectly sculpted gym goddess wearing expertly coordinated Lulelemon, I’m an oddly shaped, middle aged women who wears mis-matched clothes to the gym or looks like a soccer mom dropping her kiddos off at the game while I am running.  (“Holy Quads batman, this unassuming, bespectacled lady is back-squatting like she knows what she is doing!”)

Ever since my surgery in 2017, I haven’t really made serious progress as a runner. I’ve just kind of plateaued. Granted, I did track sporadically and I certainly never did any toolbox runs on a consistent basis. When I ran the Pittsburgh marathon, I just ran 4 days a week and did the personal training. Other than that, I didn’t mix anything up or incorporate any speed work. Surprisingly, I ran Pittsburgh in 5:28, and I was injured when I ran that. Not bad.

My goal for my fourth marathon is to get back as close as I can to the 5 hour mark. I doubt that I will hit sub-5 since that’d involve shaving 29 minutes in 6 months. A lot of stars would have to align for me to get there. I’ll try, obviously, but I am not going to kill myself to reach it. I’ve been working with a friend who is a Certified Running Coach, and I am trusting her and the plan.

She gives me certain pace goals to try and hit. So far, I haven’t quite hit, well, any of them. I’m going to keep trying and that’s going to be approach for this marathon: just try and do my best.

Whenever the trainer Anthony has me try something new or a lot more difficult than I am accustomed to, I tell him, “I don’t know if I can, but I will try.” There have been times where I tried and absolutely could not do it (i.e., pushups). I tried, though. That’s how I am going to approach all the runs Sara has planned for me.

If I fail, I fail. At least I will have always given it a shot. To me, it’s great to have goals because it gives you something to work toward, but if I don’t reach my goal but I did my best, I will be okay. The fun is in trying and getting to run with my friends.  Maybe by the time the marathon rolls around, all the strength training and speed work will create a mean, lean, glasses-wearing running machine.

That’s right. I’m a damn sports star.

Glacier Ridge Trail Ultra 30K

The Pittsburgh Marathon took place on a Sunday. The following Saturday, I drove up to Moraine State Park and completed the Glacier Ridge Trail Ultra 30K. I know what you might be thinking – “Lara, you ran a marathon on a Sunday and then did a trail run on Saturday! Are you crazy?”

Yes, yes I am.

Was it a good idea?

Nope, no it was not.

Back in 2015, I did this race and the last couple of miles were pure hell. I ran out of water, the temperature got ridiculously hot, and I had side cramps that made even walking forward difficult. I should also clarify that I ran out of water because my dumb ass passed up a water stop. If my memory serves me, I didn’t come in before the cutoff, but they gave me a medal anyway.

When I crossed the finish line, my friends Kelly and Emily were waiting for me. Once they saw how overheated I was and how much my fingers looked like sausages, they went into overdrive to make sure I cooled down. Water may or may not have been poured over my head.  Honest to dog, I honestly thought I might need medical attention for the last mile.

This race haunted me.

Gearing up for 2019, I vowed to not make the same mistake I made in 2015. I wore a hydration vest and carried an extra bottle of water in the backpack. I did trail runs on a semi frequent basis prior to the race. I thought all my marathon training, weight training and other cross training meant that I was going to kill this race.

Before the race, I found out the cutoff time for the race was 7 hours. I thought, “Oh, so that must have meant I ran it past 7 hours back in 2015. I got this!” Plus, the temperature was absolutely perfect the day of the race. However, the day before the race, it had rained a bit, so the trail was pretty muddy. I’m talking the kind of mud where your shoe stays in it but your foot leaves (that is, if you don’t tie your shoes secure enough).

During the race, I felt good, all things considering. I kept reminding myself that I had ran a marathon (injured, nonetheless) not even a full week ago. I stayed properly hydrated and didn’t feel like I was all alone for most of the race, unlike last time. For a long stretch, there was a woman I kept figuratively and literally chasing. I know she was using me as inspiration to keep going faster. We leap-frogged a couple of times and when she was ahead of me, I noted her looking back at me a couple of times and then increasing her speed.

(Spoiler alert: I caught up to her for the last mile and a half. I beat her! Mwahaha.)

Someone actually captured a photo of me during the last portion of the race. I’m smiling and more importantly, I’m actually running. If someone had photographed me in 2015, they would have caught me in the midst of heat exhaustion, wanting to cry.

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I wanted to come in under six hours, but that didn’t happen. I walked more than I wanted to, but I listened to my body. I came in at 6:09, but I wasn’t in the midst of heat exhaustion or potential heat stroke. I was happy that I came in with time to spare! I didn’t get swept!

I was convinced that I destroyed my 2015 time because didn’t I not make the cut off time that year? I looked at my time from 2015 when I got home from GRT and saw that I was 11 minutes SLOWER this year.

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No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It took me a day to accept that I was actually slower this year. I was definitely a lot faster at 35 compared to 39, plus I may have gained a little bit of weight.

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Whatever, I still did it and I came in feeling strong. This race isn’t going to haunt me anymore.

 

World’s Okayest Runner

I’m so behind on my race recaps, but then again, I don’t think I have that many captivated readers who have been waiting with baited breath for my marathon recap. (If you do read these exercises in word vomit of mine, leave a comment! Until then, I’m going to believe I’m typing into the void.)

I celebrated my birthday one week before the Pittsburgh marathon. Dave took me to breakfast and then we saw Avengers: Endgame. It was exactly what I wanted to do for my birthday. Afterwards, we parted ways and I went grocery shopping to complete my weekly meal prep. I placed one grocery bag in my trunk, and then a second. I leaned forward to push the second bag back a bit when I felt a muscle pull in my left shoulder.

That’s right. I pulled a muscle in my shoulder on my 39th birthday putting groceries away in my car. It hurt so bad that I yelped loudly. Really? I injure myself putting groceries away? Come on.

For the week leading up to the marathon, I refrained from running or anything physical really. I iced my shoulder and rested. I also worried like a crazy person, filled with anxiety, like, “Am I even going to be able to run the marathon?” I could barely rotate my left arm without pain radiating throughout my shoulder, and I’m going to run 26.2 miles? I kept thinking, “I may be cursed to never run this fucking race. Unreal.”

The night before the race, I still didn’t feel remotely good but I decided to go for it anyway. I figured that I would try and if it got to be too much, I’d stop and do a Do Not Finish. I wanted to try because this is The Race I have been wanting to conquer since 2015, 2016.

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I may be smiling but I was thinking, “If anyone bumps into my shoulder, I will probably cry.”

I did make a crucial error the morning of the race. It was raining, and I did not lube up my feet. I had vaseline with me, but Race Day excitement means I’m more forgetful than my normal. You’d think I haven’t been running since 2013, but sigh… welcome to my brain.

During the first 16 miles of the race, my friend Emily stayed with me. She and I trained together a good portion leading up to the marathon. Throughout the race, I had a couple of close calls where I came close to someone colliding with my shoulder. As a result, Emily stayed on my left to prevent anyone from getting near my left side. I am so grateful to her.

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She was ahead of me on the hill but I wasn’t that far behind!

Mother Nature was not kind to us runners that day. It rained a bit during the race, and so I formed a gnarly blister on my right foot. I was feeling it bad. I also kept having to stop and clear my glasses off so I could, you know, see. When we were approaching 16 miles together, I could tell the wheels were starting to fall off for me, and my friend was holding back for me.

My shoulder hurt, and because my shoulder hurt, I wasn’t rotating the way I normally do when I run. On top of that, the blister on my foot was killing me and for the first time in years, I felt IT band. Before I pulled the muscle in my shoulder, my training was pretty solid and consistent. My 20 mile runs were each around 4 hours. I thought I could get 5:15 or thereabouts.  I knew that wasn’t going to happen for me, and I will be damned if I hold anyone back.

I told Emily to go chase her PR and I would be fine running by myself. Besides, if something bad happened to me, I was never truly alone. I’d be fine. I appreciate that she wanted to make sure I’d be okay before she went chasing her PR (spoiler: she got it!).

During the last 10 miles, once I accepted that I wasn’t going to hit my time goal, I just focused on enjoying the beauty of the marathon. I looked to see if I recognized anyone, and I thanked the volunteers who braved standing in the cold, rainy weather to help crazy people like me. When I hit mile 18 (aka the greyhound mile), the rain was coming down pretty hard, so the greyhounds who normally like to run with the runners, were all taking refuge under a bridge. I didn’t blame them!

The last couple of miles were a real struggle. My shoulder hurt, the blister was taunting me at that point, and I was overcompensating all over the place. I later saw a video of me close to mile 26, and I was run/limping, hop a long Huffman.

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Yeah, take a closer look. I’m in a lot of pain here. My foot is really not supposed to be turned in that direction.

For no reason other than pride, I was hustling as much as I could the last couple of miles because I wanted to come in before the 5:30 pacer. My first marathon in Columbus, I was at 5:00:58. For my second marathon in Indy, I was 5:28. I wanted to beat 5:30, so I can still stay this is my range.

I CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AT 5:28:58. That’s right! Pittsburgh is much harder than Columbus or Indianapolis, and I ran that sucker all banged up and still managed the same time I did for Indy. (Granted, I didn’t cross train at all before Indy, and that murdered me.)  That still shows how much I really worked hard for this race.

Now, if my health does a nose dive into the crapper again, I’m not going to be haunted by the race I never got to do. I did it, y’all. [Redacted] can never take that from me. If I find myself in the chemo chair again, and given [redacted], it could very well happen, I’ll tell everyone who’ll listen to me about that one time I ran a marathon a week after I pulled a muscle in my shoulder.

Stayed tune for the next post, where I provide my Glacier Ridge Trail recap. Why yes, I ran a 30K trail race 6 days after running a marathon.

So, I did a thing

Last year, when I signed up for the Hyner 25K Trail Race, I said to myself that I would  train for this race. Yes, ma’am, I would be a good little runner and be prepared for once. Before I signed up, I knew very well that Hyner was a beast. I mean, look at this elevation profile.

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A year went by, and I trained… but for the Pittsburgh marathon. I did some trail runs here and there, but absolutely nothing to really train for Hyner. I have been running four days a week and cross-training at least once a week, mostly two days a week. I’m in fairly decent shape and I thought maybe there’s a shot I can survive Hyner.

Barely survive, that’s what happened for me at Hyner.  Here are pictures from the time at Hyner 25K taken by friends of mine. I didn’t take any pictures along the way because I was too focused on not falling or hurting myself. Since it had rained pretty hard the day before the race, the conditions were less than ideal. The ground was ridiculously muddy, and the stream crossings were a little… intense.

I ended up spending the entire 16 mile trek with a new running friend. I honestly do not know if I would have finished without her. I could have mentally DNF’d at some of the aid stations, but I know she never would let me. If I hurt myself and had to drop out, that would have been one thing. Quitting – nope.  Amy would have pep-talked at me until I got back on the trail and gave it a shot.

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See the top there? I made it up there.

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My right calf seized up on me, and my right foot went numb around this time.

Hyner 25K caps at 1,000 registrants, and it has a 9 hour cut off. Out of the 1,000 registrants, there were 798 finishers, and I was motherfucking number 788. That’s right – I FINISHED.

This trail race was the most physically and mentally demanding feat I have ever voluntarily done. (Since I have gone through cancer treatment, that’s going to always take number one spot.)  Afterwards, I thought no way in hell do I want to do this again. A couple of days removed from the race, I’ve been thinking, maybe one more time.

My recent life motto has been this: “I don’t know if I can, but I will try.” I say it to the trainer I work with once a week whenever he has me try something new. Here, I looked up at Humble Hill and had no idea if I could do this. I tried, and look what happened. I finished.

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Pittsburgh is my White Whale

On May 5, 2019, I am finally going to catch my White Whale. I’m going to give it everything I have physically and mentally, and I am going to attempt to run the Pittsburgh Full marathon. This will be my third marathon, but it will be my first time attempting the entire full marathon course in Pittsburgh.

I have wanted to give this race a shot several times but life got in the way.  I have signed up for the full once before–forget which year–but dropped down to the half when I realized I couldn’t do the full marathon. One year, I decided to put the Pittsburgh full off until next year when I started a new job as a consultant. The following year, I ended up doing the Columbus full as my first marathon.

The following year, I put the Pittsburgh full off until new year when I had surgery on my abdomen. That surgery reset me to zero but I still tried to do a marathon that year. I ran the Indianapolis full in 2017 and added a half hour to my previous marathon time.

I wanted to do the Pittsburgh full marathon in 2018, but at the end of 2017, I tripped and face planted, breaking my nose and pride. By the time I recovered from that, bronchitis came roaring into my lungs and hung out there for a solid month.  Last year, I put the Pittsburgh full off until this year.

This is my mother-fracking year. I am going to do this. I had a couple of challenges, namely bronchitis yet again.  My umpteenth bout with bronchitis and my one billionth sinus infection during this recent training cycle actually led me to installing an internal french drain in my basement. I am tired of getting sick, damnit.

 For the first time ever, I am actually consistently cross-training during a training cycle. I have been seeing a trainer once a week, and I’ve been working on weights and core. Friends, I actually have a bicep muscle. Squee! The other day, the trainer referred to me as Quadzilla. Other people can actually see the progress I’ve made since I decided to accomplish this goal of mine and get this White Whale. I am giving it everything that I can.

Pittsburgh, in all its hills and pot holes, is my White Whale. Just even thinking about running the  Pittsburgh fullmade me think I could be more than a sickie, that I could be a runner. That I could actually be an athlete. Growing up, I was the weirdo kid who you did not want on your team during gym class, so for me to even be considered athletic is mind boggling.

Pittsburgh is my white whale because if I end up not being able to do any marathons after this, I will be okay because I did the race I have always wanted to do.

I’m fundraising for the Cystic Fibrosis foundation, which does amazing work for those living with Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. My cousin Kathryn’s children, Andrew and Cece, have Cystic Fibrosis. I want these little ones to grow up as strong and healthy as they can be, and the CFF is the foundation making that happen. Whatever you can donate, I appreciate it, and if you can’t donate,  please share!

https://www.crowdrise.com/o/en/campaign/runtocurecf2019/lkhuffman

 

I am not a good sick person

Almost a month ago, I woke up with a fever and head congestion. I didn’t take any time off from work, nor did I go to the doctor for any medication. I worked from home that week, and I thought that was sufficient. I took a week off from running and honestly thought, “I’m okay.”

Soon after, evidence of my 1093908 sinus infection came around, and I continued to ignore it. Each morning, I enjoyed my hot steamy shower as it allowed me to clear my sinuses. Despite evidence to the contrary, I kept telling myself, “I’m okay.”

I continued to run 4 days a week and cross training 2 days a week. Last weekend, I did a 15 mile race and felt so terrible afterwards. Granted, it was cold and North Park isn’t the most forgiving. Still, I felt like I had been hit by a truck and had zero energy for the post-race festivities. I still thought, “I’m okay.”

For almost two weeks, I had obvious signs of a sinus infection, and I knew it was a sinus infection. I would hack up a lung every time I stopped running, plus I was fatigued. I knew I was sick, but I still thought, “I’m okay…. this will pass.”

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During work on Thursday, I started to feel an ache in my chest and began wheezing, and finally the rational part of my brain screamed, “Go see a frickin doctor, you dumb ass!” I still fought the urge, texting Best Boyfriend Ever that I was considering going to Urgent Care after work.

I was still ON THE FENCE because I didn’t want someone to tell me what I already knew: I had to stop running and rest. The Pittsburgh Marathon is my goal race, and The Race that I want to accomplish as my big fuck you to [Redacted]. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone but myself, and I am trying to prove that I am more than my faulty genes.

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Best Boyfriend Ever responded, “Go to Urgent Care.”

At Urgent Care, the PA listened to me breathing and took a look at my nostrils, saying immediately, “Whoa there, you have quite the sinus infection.” (Sigh.)  She then told me that based on the wheezing she heard, I definitely had bronchitis, likely from the sinus infection traveling downward.

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When I went back to work yesterday, I saw my discharge paper from Urgent Care. I noticed that I came in with a slight fever: 99.7. I got so used to feeling under the weather for the past month that I didn’t even realize I was running a mild fever.

I’m not a good sick person. I can deal with a chronic condition like [redacted] like a champ, with slight hiccups along the way. But, apparently, faced with a temporary illness, the personality traits I don’t necessarily care about myself come to the front: stubbornness.

My anxiety also manifests itself as not liking to rest. I constantly feel like I have to be doing something or training. It’s why I love running so much – it quiets my anxiety.  My anxiety is telling me that if I rest too long, I’ll screw up my training for the Pittsburgh marathon, and maybe I’m not really an athlete. I’m just a sickie sick person who does nothing but get sick.

I know it’s not rational, but [redacted] has instilled a sense of panic in me. How much time do I have until [redacted] comes roaring back? I feel like I’m on borrowed good health time, and I want to enjoy it and take advantage of it while I can. This is what goes in the mind of someone who’s already had cancer twice, a [redacted] diagnosis, and generalized anxiety disorder.

It’s why I’m not a good sick person. I have so much I want to get done. Good health is a gift, and I don’t want to waste a second.