My head is no match for my heart.  This is why I ended up running 17 miles the same week that I tumbled and hurt myself.  A smarter runner would have taken that week off to heal.  I just hate missing the long runs – like, really hate it.  It would be like taking a teenager’s driver’s license away for the weekend.  Take away that run and you take away my freedom.  I look forward to it all week.  Spending hours out there covering ground, feeling every part of my body working calms me – I work though a lot of sh** on those long runs.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it and that my injuries weren’t really so bad.  I was also going through something personally and honestly I needed seventeen miles to process it.  It took me 2 hours and 50 minutes.  My right hip and knee felt like hell.  My feet and ankles started aching as of mile 10.  And blisters – I knew that there was an intense situation going on.  After peeling off my soaking sports bra, I found that it had left a perfectly chafed outline on my skin, and the waistband of my shorts had rubbed blisters on my hipbones and spine that had popped somewhere along the run.  And a nice line of blisters had formed beneath my right toe pad.  Obviously I had immediately decided that I hated my shoes and would never run in them again, nor would I wear that outfit on a long distance day.  Aside from these discomforts though, I felt good overall – I’d done it – 17 miles!  I was beside myself at myself.

However, it most likely was a mistake.  It certainly would not have been the first time that my heart has gotten the rest of us into trouble.  The following week’s runs were frustrating.  I couldn’t take my normal stride at my usual pace and with every step there was pain.  I took Thursday and Friday off hoping that everything would clear up, but Saturday’s 8 miles brought me to tears because I knew what I had to do – take Sunday’s 18 miler off.  Depression.

So what else is a girl to do other than go out Saturday night to an amazing restaurant that boasts one of the best wine lists in NYC, and polish off a bottle of white, a bottle of red, and at least three glasses of dessert wine?  I had a partner in crime people, I don’t have a problem!  When you are a snobby wino and some of the best wine in the world is in front of you – you drink my friends.  If I had been cut, I would have bled Grand Cru, but what did I care, I had no long run to properly prepare for – I went for it!

Sunday morning I had a job and while waiting for the train I realized that a miracle had occurred.  My right knee!  When I lifted a bent leg there was no pain!  I lifted my leg all the way into my chest, and there was nothing!  You can imagine this performance along the train platform.  I was elated!  Oh I was going to run!  I flew home, made a cup of coffee and a half a piece of toast, after all I didn’t really think that I needed to fuel for the full 18.  I was just going out to listen to my body and as soon as it said, no more, I would head home.  I grabbed one gu (energy gel, just in case things went unexpectedly well) and hit the road.

I ran the first 6 miles with a heart so happy.  It was a perfect fall feeling day filled with beautiful lighting and crisp air.  The sky was the deepest gray blue that hinted at rain, but the sun was shining and so was I!  Around mile 8, the rain started.  I love running in the rain – it’s cooling and has a slight rock star element to it as long as it’s light and over quickly, which it was.  A couple miles later however the sky opened up and it started pouring.  People were running to take cover under trees, but I kept going – I felt invincible.  I briefly thought about my devices but decided to care less as my phone was on its last leg anyway – this felt too good to stop.  It was then that I remembered approaching the halfway point in my second marathon in 2011.  A mantra popped into my head out of nowhere, because it was at this point in my race when all of my injuries reared their ugly heads.  I’m going to make this look easy.  I don’t know where it came from, but I repeated that line over and over and through tremendous pain, it carried me over that finish line.

This memory brought me back even further to my high school basketball coach and quite possibly that mantra’s origin.  She was known as the female Bobby Knight.  She was a total genius and I won’t go into much detail here because I will most likely dedicate an entire blog to her turning and extremely talented group of girls into champions – she was fierce and a total BOSS.  She had many rules, but I thought about one in particular.  You know when you’ve been running sprints and you stop to bend over and rest your hands on your knees for a second to catch your breath?  Yeah, we weren’t allowed to do that.  Never.  If we were caught in practice doing this, we ran.  And if we were caught in a game, we ran for it in the next practice.  And she saw EVERYTHING.  To rest your hands on your knees was a sign of weakness – it sent the message that you were tired, and our opponents were never allowed that message.  That privilege was ours only.  When we saw the other team take to their knees – we had them – we were stronger.  Brilliance.  This mindset has far outlasted my basketball career.  I do feel that that coach has played a vital role in my marathon running.  She made me indestructible.  So when I hit mile 15 on this training run and everything started to catch fire, I knew that I would finish the full 18, and that anyone who noticed me would have no idea of how far I had run or just how much I was hurting.  I was doing it, and I was making it look easy.  18 miles?  I couldn’t believe it.

I know that what I am saying may sound like craziness to some, and I also know that I can’t quite explain why I need to run through everything.  However, I have read books that do and perhaps that is also another blog, but for now my message is this:  Nothing is impossible.  We are capable of moving mountains, but first we must move our heads out of the way.  We can’t even begin to fathom the inner strength, the endurance, the perseverance that we possess – I am proof.  And I find that extremely empowering.  Maybe that’s part of it.  If I can, after a night of drinking 9 glasses of wine, injuries, downpours, and a half a piece of toast, run 18 miles, what can’t I do, right?!  Friends, don’t stop believing – don’t you ever stop.

Cheers,

Vino Bambina

Lastly, but most importantly I am doing all of this for a little guy battling Epidermolysis Bullosa. His name is Lane and my pain doesn’t even compare to his. My intention is to raise awareness and support to this cause. You can find his story just before this one: Butterfly Baby; Lane’s Story. My goal is to raise $2500 by running the NYC Marathon come November 1st. If you would like for me to send you good vibes and run my race so very grateful for you, or if you’d like to make a difference for so many little ones out there born with this rare and heart-breaking illness, please click here to make a donation. My endless gratitude.