Chronology of an injury

I'm injured.

Like any runner, I always seem to have some little niggling injury, but generally that hasn't stopped me from running. For me, more often than not, it's my hamstrings. Way back in 2015 I pulled a hamstring in a race, and it hasn't been the same since.

This year the injury progressed to a new level. I just couldn't seem to get better. I thought a long "break" over the summer where I went on a three-week walking trip with my wife would magically cure it, but it didn't. When I got back from my travels, I tried to run myself back into shape, and I'll let this graph tell the story of what happened next:

My last 120 days, in a graph

Normally I run 6 miles on my easy days, with a couple days a week where I go longer for workouts and long runs. The green dots on this graph represent the length of my runs over the last four months. As you can see, at the end of the summer I was doing mostly 4-mile runs, with a few "longer" runs that would have previously counted as short runs. Around Day 50 on that graph, I tried to make 5 miles my new "short" distance, and that lasted exactly two days. You can see the lonely dot at 2.38 miles, just before the 60-day point, which represents when my leg decided to stop working. 

I took three weeks off, and visited a physical therapist who diagnosed my condition as "pes anserine bursitis," an inflammation below the knee where three tendons join the shin. The prescription was rest, exercise and stretching the hamstrings, which I dutifully did.

I finally started running again around Day 75 of this graph, with a 2-mile run. I worked my way up to 3-mile runs, and eventually did a couple 4-milers, taking a day off between each run. More recently I've started running two days in a row. My hamstrings actually feel better than they have in years, but my pes anserine area still gets sore. I made this graph because it felt like I was finally running faster and farther, and I am. But not much faster or farther. To see the effect, you have to zoom in:

Zooming in to the last 32 days

I fit a line to the distance (in green) and pace (in blue) of my runs over the last month, and as you can see, the distance gets slightly longer, while the pace gets slightly faster (lower pace is faster). In other words, progress is DAMNED slow. I'm going to try running 5 miles on Thursday before I head out of town for a week and a half. Don't worry, I won't push it -- I will stop if this turns out to be too much. But I think I'm turning a corner. I'm signed up for the Boston Marathon in April, and if I want to do more than run-walk the race, I need to be running 40-50 mile weeks, not 10-12 mile weeks. I'll keep stretching and strengthening my hamstrings, and gradually building distance and pace, and with any luck, I won't just be walking the Boston Marathon!

Race Recap: The Super Hyak Marathon

I came to this race with high hopes. After my Boston-qualifying race in Philadelphia last fall, I wanted to see what I could do on a net-downhill course known for fast finishes. The Jack and Jill series of races (including the Super Hyak) all run on the same gradual downhill course, starting at Snoqualmie Pass 50 miles outside of Seattle. Unfortunately, after historic flooding in the area last fall, part of the route was washed out, and so the course was modified. Instead of a 2-mile flat tunnel followed by 24 miles of downhill, it would be a flat 10 miles of out-and back, then the 2-mile tunnel, then 14 miles of gradual downhill. Still, with a net descent of 1,273 feet, it looked to be a very fast course. 

The only concern I had about the course was that it was on a gravel path. I knew it would a wide path since it was an old railroad grade, but I didn’t know how rough the gravel would be. A couple of friends who had raced there told me not to worry; as long as I had shoes that wouldn’t get chunks of gravel stuck in the treads, I should be fine. 

The other concern that some reviewers mentioned was the 2.3-mile Snoqualmie Tunnel. It is dark and the footing can be treacherous. But I was used to running on dark mornings, and I don’t have any fears of enclosed spaces, so I figured it would be fine. I bought a cheap headlamp at Target for the tunnel, planning to drop it at the end of the tunnel like most participants do in this race. 

On race morning, I drove from our hotel in Seattle to the pass, then parked just 50 meters from the start. It was a chilly morning, so I sat in the car until a few minutes before the start time, then lined up to get ready to go. It’s a small race, limited to 500 runners by the state park service which maintains the trail. Soon we were off, heading east towards Lake Keechelus at the top of Snoqualmie Pass. The trail follows the edge of the lake, so it’s flat as a tabletop. The gravel near the start line was quite rough, but it evened out after a half mile or so, and I was able to get a nice running rhythm going. There was a 3:35 pacer, which was convenient since my main goal for the race was to beat my Philly time of 3:37:25. 

Unfortunately the pacer was running a little faster than I was planning on pacing my race. I wanted to run about 8:15 per mile, which works out to a 3:36 marathon, and I could pick up the pace when I got to the downhill part if I felt good. The pacer was running closer to an 8:00 pace, which is really a 3:30 marathon pace. He wasn’t far behind the official 3:30 pacer. So I backed off a bit but still ended up running a little faster than planned. When I reached the turnaround at Mile 5, I was actually at an 8:00 pace for the race myself—and still behind the 3:35 pacer!

Heading back towards the start, I consciously slowed my pace, trying to get closer to that 8:15 I had planned on. I ran through the 10-mile marker at the start line in an 8:18 for that mile. Tunnel ahead!

Within a half mile, I was at the tunnel entrance. I turned on the headlamp I had been wearing since the start of the race and ran inside. It was dark. Really dark. Was my light even on? I waved my hand in front of the headlamp and saw that it was on, but it was barely illuminating the path, which was quite uneven. I took off the headlamp and held it like a flashlight to get it closer to the path, which I could now just barely see. I guess that’s the difference between an $8.99-for-two Target special and the $50 running headlamp I normally use! As I shuffled carefully along in the damp tunnel, my pace slowed. A runner passed me and I tried staying close behind him, but I was struggling to find smooth ground, and I had to slow down to avoid a tumble. My first mile in the tunnel was an 8:48. As I got used to the surface, which was kind of a hard, gritty, dense, wet, rutty gravel, I was able to pick up the pace a bit, and ran an 8:24 for Mile 12.

Finally I emerged from the tunnel! I could see the trail now, and soon the downhill section would start. Unfortunately, the gravel also got rougher in this section. The tunnel had taken a lot out of me, and now my feet were aching as the gravel pounded me with every step. I couldn’t get into any kind of a rhythm. Mile 13 was 8:39. Though the downhill section had started, this wasn’t feeling easier. I have a Morton’s neuroma on my left foot, which causes pain on my footpad, but which I can usually manage with the right combination of footwear and a bit of a modification to my stride. In this gravel, I couldn’t run a consistent stride pattern, and every few steps I would land awkwardly and deliver a piercing pain up my left leg. Mile 14 was 9:11. To beat my time from Philly, I needed to be running 8:15s. I had hoped to be going even faster than that on this section, but I could see that would be impossible. Was it worth it to continue?

I walked for 30 seconds as I consumed a gel, then started back running, hoping that brief break would allow me to get back to pace. It didn’t work, and I was running slower than ever. I could probably limp to the finish, but it would be a very painful slog. 

After a few minutes, I did the math in my head. I could stop now and walk 4 miles back to the start, or I could keep going for 12 miles to the finish line, with a lot of pain and a disappointing finish time. I decided to stop. This would be my first-ever marathon DNF. 

I stopped my Garmin, turned around, and headed back towards the start. As I passed all the runners who were still heading for the finish, I wondered if I had made the right decision. I knew they all had different goals from me. Some were older than me, still on track for a BQ. For some, it might have been their first marathon, or their fastest. For me, it was none of those things. I had tried to reach my own goal, but that was clearly not going to happen today. Stopping was the right decision, at least for me. 

After a chilly passage back through the tunnel, I finally made it back to my car. Soon I would be headed back down the mountain with a hot cup of coffee. Definitely the right decision! 

Click here for the Strava record of my race