The Year of Tears and Tears

With six weddings, three showers, one Bat Mitzvah, three graduations and three funerals. 2007 was a year of many tears: tears of joy at the weddings and tears of sorrow at the funerals. I've written tributes and remembrances for my dad and for Jackie, my friend and Step Aerobics teacher, on this blog. I did not write a piece for Vince, my friend and colleague at work for many years, a huge presence and very, very vital man who died of a heart attack at 52, leaving a wife, two young adult children and a host of family, friends and admirers. Others who knew him better have done a far better job of that than I could ever hope to do. His mention here, though brief, will serve to let you know how much I admired and liked him, and how much I miss him.

It was a year that began and ended with two tears of a different sort - tears, pronounced "tares" as in a torn Achilles and a torn hamstring. I don't think either of those brought the first kind of tears - but they were close.

In August of 2006, while training for the Cazenovia tri, I ended an interval training session with my friend Maria with a flat out foot race over the last 50 yards of the course. I won - I am pretty sure she didn't let me get to the barricade first, but I am not totally sure - but I over strode, landed "funny" and pulled the Achilles on my right foot. Those of you who read the medical literature - as I get older I seem to do a lot of that - know that "pulled" is just a less threatening word for what the injury really is: a series of small tears. I spent a lot of time resting it, salving it, soaking it, and stretching it. I also learned all about strengthening the calf muscle through something called "eccentric loading". I limped into 2007 on my bum Achilles, and by March, I was finally able to run on it without pain and without fear of getting "ripped" again in the gym - the wrong way.

It was a pretty good season - 4 tri's, beginning with the indoor one at the Southern Saratoga Y in February, and culminating with the Pine bush in Albany in July. Lots of brick workouts last year, and lots of practice with Long Slow Distance. But still, I am too heavy and run too slowly and I am never going to break 1:30 next year in the PB if I don't improve my time on the run. I decided that the only way to get better at running was to run. Knowing my self, I needed something tangible to keep me working hard. So I decided to begin running 5k's, one every other week, with the performance goal of finishing under 37:14 - 12 minute miles.

Beginning the end of July, it was "Run, Ron, Run": Silks and Satins in Saratoga; Jailhouse Rock in Ballston Spa (my favorite - it has a great downhill finish and I got my PB there; Altamont (very, very hot); SEFCU; Teal Ribbon 5K (I felt the best about this one, as I ran to honor the memory of a friend's sister and to raise money for Ovarian Cancer Research, a great cause) I trained for these by running at least three times a week, often at noon and often with my friends Dorie, Donna, Deanne and of course, Maria. I ran for distance - getting up to a whole 2.25 miles at a clip before I had to walk, and for strength - running hills as often as I could, around Lincoln Park, up and down the hills in Washington Park, up and down State Street and Madison Avenue, and my favorite - "The Hill" - the one just outside the Y in Guilderland - you know, the finishing hill for the PB Tri.

Here's what I learned - flat is easier that uphill, downhill is easier than flat, cool is much easier than hot, and the worst of all is hot and humid and uphill. Hey - I never said I was a Rocket Scientist.

Here's what else I learned - I know what it feels like to tear a hamstring. A hint - it's nothing like a cramp or a Charley horse. Someone asked me if it felt like a zipper being pulled - sort of, but not exactly. Mostly it reminds me of tearing the border off my paycheck, what the perfs must be feeling as I am yanking the two pieces apart. I did this on a practice run around Lincoln Park with my buddies Dorie and Donna. As usual we started from Madison Ave outside the Concourse, across from the museum. We jogged up Madison to the intersection with Swan, and stretched while we waited for Dorie. Then we crossed Madison and headed south on Swan, down the hill to Lincoln Park. Then we started up the hill to Morton. That's when I felt the "rriiiip" in the back of my left leg, and even though I had never felt anything like that before, I was pretty sure what had happened.

I have no idea why it tore. My routine was pretty much the same as always, I wasn't running particularly hard or fast, and I had been up this hill a number of times before. I stretched a little to see if it would go away, but it didn't. Didn't take too long to figure out I couldn't run on it, either. Dorie and Donna stayed with me while I walked the course - I was already dressed and on the course - and I wanted to get my Fitlinxx Points.

I took about 10 days off, icing, soaking and stretching - reading the medical literature again, of course. I felt pretty good so I went for a flat half-mile jog along the river at noon, sandwiched in between two easy half-mile walking stints. That went ok, so two days later I went for another walk-jog, this one at Rensselaer Park, sight of the start of the PB. I jogged with Donna and Deanne and Jen M on the bike path that skirts the lake and goes out to the dump. Going out - pretty good. Coming back - pretty good until I got to the last little hill before the lake and tried to push it - I could immediately feel the strain. I backed off and walked in, stretching at the end.

Three days later I entered the Crossings 5K. The practical side of me said, "Take it easy. See how you feel" The driven part of me said, "It's a flat course - you can finally get that 37:14!" A started out at a pace some where between the two, and felt ok - until I went up that first little hill by the Ciccotti Center and felt that old familiar feeling. I stopped and stretched and thought about quitting - but you know how that went - got to get those Fitlinxx Points. Bottom line, I jogged less and walked more through each successive mile until I could only walk. About 200 yards from the finish, I got passed by an out of shape 10 year old girl who had been walking the race with her mom, and who now decided she just might be able to run to the finish. Let's just say my ego was willing but my hamstring refused - I could not run - or jog - or catch her. I was pretty humiliated. I was also pretty scared that I had really done it this time.

This happened October 6. I did not run or jog in October. I did not run or jog in November. I put on 10 pounds. On December 2, I flew to San Antonio for a conference, and the hotel had a nice little workout room. On day one, I got on the elliptical machine for a half hour and felt fine. On day two, I got back on the elliptical machine for a half hour and felt fine. On day three, I got on the treadmill and walked, elevating up to 15 degrees and back down - and felt fine. At the end of the walk - I jogged, for 1 minute at 5 mph. Good news - bad news: I felt fine, but that single minute whipped me.

I've been on the treadmill a bunch of times since then, walking and jogging, on the flat and on the incline. I am not even close to where I was three months ago. I am discouraged, but I know that with a lot of work, I can get back to where I was.

But, here's what the little voice in the back of my head whispers: "What's it going to be next?" "Is there anything I can do to prevent it?" "If it happens -when it happens - how long will it take to heal this time?" Maybe I should stop listening to the little voice in my head and just put on the headphones, get on the treadmill, and get on with my life.

Happy New Year!