Tag: training

What a year, I mean month

I spent the last few months injury stacking, to use wellness language. 

Things changed quickly after my last post. I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in two metatarsals. Rather than gearing up for fall races, I was booted, waiting for the pain to subside. A week after I was released from the boot, I sprained the shit out of my ankle on the same leg. I’ve only had a few meltdowns over it this fall.

I like to think I did learn something from my time fighting for endometriosis care. At my first stress fracture follow up, the orthopedist spent two minutes with me. Without any imaging, he said he knew I had a stress fracture and to stay in the boot. I asked about an MRI and he doubled-down. Why image when he knows?

Reader, he didn’t know. I have written about this kind of egotistical doctor already. There was no fracture in my initial image! It is standard to keep imaging a stress fracture to monitor the healing process. I immediately told my physical therapist about him and she emailed an orthopedist she often works with to get me an appointment.

I loved this woman. She is sharp, kind, thoughtful. Her work is driven by the core belief that you can and should get back to movement you love. I told her I was willing to get an MRI (read: PAY) for clarity. I’m so glad I did. She was able to see beautiful bones at the 5 week mark, so I could transition out of the boot.

I had brief, sweet freedom, biking around Baltimore cheering during the Baltimore Running Festival. Shortly after is when I fell down the stairs (nothing cool) and sprained my ankle, which has been a more difficult recovery. Or maybe both combined, healing my ligaments AND loading my foot bones, has made things more complicated. 

To paraphrase Melissa Febos, I am examining consequences. Without running, I had more time to reflect on writing and creative dreams. I would love more time. Ha! This means that despite having a stack of poems I’m calling a manuscript, my focus is on applying to residencies for 2026. Sitting, playing, thinking, leads to creative discovery. I need uninterrupted time for this. I did have a chance to reflect on this playful aspect some with Malissa Rodenburg in Writers Who Run, which went live a few weeks ago, before I started run / walking.

What else is on the horizon for 2026, a year that has already been filled with horrors? 

  • I am going to take a Stop the Bleed training, for another way to be a better bystander. I was recertified in CPR a few years ago, and I was a trained lifeguard back in the day. Those are still in me and despite being an anxious person the training has taught me to be calm in a crisis. This is an up-to-date way to be helpful if I…encounter horrors firsthand.
  • Read a book of poetry a week. I buy books when poets are on tour to support them, but have been terrible at keeping up with my pace. A weekly goal is a little easier for me than the Sealey Challenge (maybe I will go for that again in August!), and I will be supporting friends and peers.
  • Ride in a cyclocross race in the fall. Biking while I can’t run has brought me a lot of joy. I can cover even more ground than a long trail run! I can eat solid food and not vomit in my mouth! I love the heckling and crowd support at cross races. It’s time to give it a go.

This four month break from running has been a chance to see how much I miss it while digging into different hobbies. So as always, stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Sapello Son by Alejandro Lucero
  • Sugarblood by Liz Bowen
  • Walden or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau

Consistent, Careful Mileage

I’d like every day to feel like this morning, or to feel like the thrill of new friendships budding. Those are moments I feel like I’ve discovered something about existence.

I knew there was a reason I bought a Koala Clip with Shalane Flanagan’s iconic quote—my first response to Nick after today’s workout was “what the fuck!!!”

In the unreasonable heat, I told myself to just give it a go today. I ended up cruising in a 3 x 8 minutes workout: 7:35, 7:33, 7:24 with 3 minutes easy running between each. I did walk a bit of each recovery rep to bring my heart rate down in the heat, but still. A year ago I was only allowed to walk. Seeing how consistent, careful mileage building pays off has been a real joy.

I struggled to run these paces in good weather before the Cambridge half. I should say something about that half marathon, shouldn’t I? I raced a half marathon in May. About two months ago at this point. I PRed, unofficially by 3 minutes, officially by 2 minutes. The course was .15 miles long for everyone I talked to—unofficial or official, I ran a strong race at a 7:59 per mile pace. Consistent splits and positive self talk are two things I am so pleased I maintained during the race.

However, I do not recommend crying while racing. Around mile 8, I started thinking about where I was a year ago. Desperate for another surgery. Struggling to sleep because of all-encompassing pain. Bleeding through at least 40 tampons a menstrual cycle (I recently learned 8 tampons is “normal”). Always planning an escape plan for unplanned bleeding or pain. Yet here I was, flying through a half marathon. I hyperventilated for a bit, but there were still 40 minutes of running to go. Taylor Swift’s “22” started playing and I pulled it together. Show me someone that doesn’t smile when that bouncy chord opening starts.

More than the time, I am SO HAPPY to have experienced the social aspect of a race again. The chats before, commiserating during, the exhausted but thrilled recaps together after. Saying to each other things like “looking strong” or “we got this” or “I’ve been pacing you”. Overall, the race was a delight. I even threw myself into a group that was from Baltimore and chatted for a bit after the race. It took everything to not say “could we be best friends?” after the year without races.

As Jessica Pan wrote in her book, Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come, “Why can’t confidence and optimism come with a lifetime guarantee?” I would pay for that that. She recommends walking into a room like a tall American man. Are men ever rattled? I’d like every day to feel like this morning, or to feel like the thrill of new friendships budding. Those are moments I feel like I’ve discovered something about existence.

I took more of Pan’s energy into the Baltimore 10-Miler. Dare I say I enjoyed the 900 feet of elevation more than the flat race? What’s this? The scenery changed, no—the scenery rolled in Baltimore County country. Seeing the landscape helped me understand the area a bit more. The greens and blues crackled in the morning light. As the second race of the year, I also felt less emotionally overwhelmed. I’ll probably hop in a few more races throughout the summer while preparing for the Wineglass Half Marathon.

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

  • Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come: An Introvert’s Year of Living Dangerously by Jessica Pan
  • Chesapeake Requiem by Earl Swift
  • Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

An Element of Control

In the spirit of crampedstyleblog’s #selfcarefebruary on Instagram, I’ve been looking closely at what I’m doing when my body starts to shut down. Last month, so many things were missing from daily routine: multiple rest days, dedicated stretching time to keep (my) hips open, allocated time to indulge in pleasurable reading. My body starts to rebel with pain and sour moods when I try to consistently crest 25 miles in a week, at least from what I’ve gathered through tracking my runs over the past couple of years. To try and do better, I’ve added a “self-care” column to my training log.

See! It’s real. I add text or glyphs to spice it up, like executing my glute and core physical therapy exercises are MONEY. Workouts I haven’t done yet are in pink. An aside—can we have a moment for the improvement in technology, from the inaccurate Nike running chips in vogue a decade ago to the relatively accurate Garmin technology of today?

Mileage and workouts might not seem important to everyone, but testing the limits of my body has been a lifelong habit. Swimming for hours a week, sucking in chlorinated air hoping that millions of strokes will lead to some sort of momentary glory. Racking the weight at incrementally higher amounts on the squat rack, knowing that my secret weapon was kicking underwater like a dolphin for fifteen meters at a speed faster than most of my peers. Tenacity is a piece of identity I’m not willing to forgo. Chronic illness changes this perception of invincibility.

I think of this quote from Sick when the attempts to feel alive, to feel healthy, seem out of reach:

“If you know a part of you is always dying, taking charge of that dying has a feeling of empowerment.”

There is something in pushing the limits, in feeling a rush, however it is found. There is an element of control, a belief that there is a choice.

I see overlapping threads in recovery memoir, illness accounts, and athletic feminist theory, like Leslie Heywood. My curiosity piques when the author pushes against the perfect story, the perfect feminist character, the story of what is supposed to be best for your health. These accounts, these protagonists, these people are not perfect plaintiffs. I’m looking at the complex stories broadly to identify threads, like The Recovering by Leslie Jamison, Pretty Good for a Girl by Leslie Heywood, Sick by Porochista Khakpour, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine, and Annie’s Ghosts by Steve Luxenberg. There are more, but I think that brief list gives a smattering of the different approaches–in form and content.

I’m looking to expand my list, so please comment with recommendations. A few books I’ve been meaning to read: The Amputees Guide to Sex by Jillian Weise, The Carrying by Ada Limón, The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang, and Crumb-Sized by Marlena Chertock.

Thanks for reading. Stay sweaty and glittery.