For a more detailed break down of my six month pity party:
Aka, the "purpose" of this entire blog. It didn't go as planned. During our first 9 mile run (about a month from the half), I had some kind of physical break down where my hip gave out and my guts went crazy. I had to stop running about 6 miles when my gastrointestinal distress became so severe that I feared an imminent pants-disaster. We stopped at a gas station but I couldn't go to the bathroom. So, we tried to run again (because I'm hard headed) and that's when my hip just gave out. I didn't feel anything snap or pop, it just suddenly became loose and wobbly. I hobbled down to the nearest Dairy Queen and made it to the bathroom just in time. Then we hobbled back home about 3 miles. The next day I could barely walk. Awesome.
I made a lot of bad bad decisions that run. Looking back, I should have stopped for good the first time. I should've called a friend to come pick us up. I should've refueled better and eaten more carbs before the run. I should've kept up with my strength training, since I knew my hips were vulnerable to injury.
I basically rested for the next two and a half weeks, and then attempted some 30 minute walks along our normal running paths. Although I still had some serious hip discomfort, I was too bone-headed to give up. By the day of the half, I felt "well" enough to convince my husband that we should walk the half. So we did. It was incredibly cold (like, almost freezing). It was slow going, but my hip and my fear kept us from running. We did end up running the last mile, which was pretty encouraging. All in all, it took us about three and a half hours to cross the finish line... pretty abysmal. Because we got there so late, the race organizers had run out of finisher's medals. Ugh. We did eventually get them in the mail.
They looked like this:
After the race:
I didn't feel like running EVER again. I felt incredibly discouraged, stupid, and worthless (never mind the fact that I had just walked 13.1 miles after training for months, something that should have made me feel proud of myself). It just seemed so pointless. I spent about two months doing nothing aside from some karate and half-hearted walks. Needless to say, I put on a bit of weight. Then the holidays came, and I put on some more weight. Yay!
At some point, I decided to get off my butt and do something. I landed on this strength training program from Kara Goucher, courtesy of Tony Salazar. It's specially designed for runners and it is a beast. I made it through one full round (four weeks of increasingly heavy weights + one rest week), put on a lot of muscle, and felt pretty awesome about myself. During my first week of round two, I screwed up by not eating enough calories (again) which resulted in me almost passing out in the middle of a set.
Shortly after this experience, my husband and I traded various flu strains back and forth for about 6 weeks. Then I got a little depressed. Then, we had this ridiculous month of crazy weather changes that threw my poor joints into a tailspin.
Then I went out of town for ten days for a conference in New York. Then I got sick again.
Aaaaaand now I'm here. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, as they say. Last week, my husband and I started a new round of the Kara Goucher workout. Next week, I'm going to start a weird paleo food challenge called the Whole30 Challenge. So there you go.
Words of encouragement are welcome, as are any hilarious stories of failure that you might have.