Miles. Smiles. They go together

After  I ran the Philadelphia Marathon in November, I had big plans. I decided because I’d survived running five marathon in 2014, that I would do another five marathons in 2015, all part of my big plan to run the U.S., one state at a time.  I sketched out a tentative plan, starting with an April marathon in Kansas that would give me an excuse to visit my daughter who lives in the Midwest, and finishing up with Chicago or Hartford in the fall. 

I deliberately gave my legs a break in December.  I ran once or twice a week, and focused instead on cross-training. I even skipped a few workouts, and took some time to enjoy life in the real world. 

In January, I started ramping up my distances. Within a few weeks I was back up to a fourteen mile long run. But something was off.  I was worse than sluggish. My runs were slower than my usual slow. I ached the entire time I was out there,  then was sore for hours after. And these were not your normal wear-and-tear muscle aches. These pains seemed to be emanating from deep in my bones.  

One thing all my 2014 long, slow runs had in common, including those lasting 26.2 miles: I recovered fast. I had no aches and pains after any of my practice runs.  Two days after Philly, I was walking around like I’d spent the entire weekend sleeping in front of the television.  I took it slow last year, and my body came back strong. Every. Single. Time.  

Now, two months after my last marathon? My body was 54 going on 99.  The shortest, easiest elliptical workout left me aching. My long runs killed me. My normal, thrice-weekly weight routine left me flattened.  I was getting discouraged. Maybe I’d used up all my running mojo during those five marathons?  Maybe I’d damaged my body? Or, maybe the problem was my brain, not my body? Maybe I needed a cheerleader, a coach to remind me that distance is as much mental as it is physical? 

I started working with a personal trainer, a guy from my gym who is an awesome coach.  My head improved a little bit, but my physical stamina didn’t show much of a change. Weights I’d been able to lift with no problem just months earlier were beyond my universe. Recovering from our half- hour gym sessions took days instead of hours.  

I began to notice problems outside of the gym too. Getting up for work was a struggle. Just getting out of bed hurt.  Carrying groceries in from the car left me exhausted.  My classroom is three long flights of stairs straight up. For years, I’ve been able to sprint that distance without thinking twice about it. Now, I’d have to stop twice on the way to catch my breath.   

In early February, I spent five days in bed with what I thought was the flu. Everything ached. The fatigue was like an anvil. I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. It was that hard to move. After days of sleep, I felt a little better, but not much. This had to be something  serious.  I made an appointment to see my primary care doc. 

She listened to my whine list: constant fatigue, aches everywhere, depression, constant burning in my stomach.  She drew some blood and checked my vitals: blood pressure good, resting heart rate the usual low 40s that always send substitute medical pros into EKG scheduling mode until I tell them I run long distances and suggest they check my records.  

I asked her if I was dying, or maybe had pushed myself too far running all those marathons. She laughed her kind doctor laugh and said I probably was not dying and said yes, I was an idiot (she didn’t call me an idiot but I knew that’s what she meant) for running so many marathons but hadn’t she been telling me for years that marathoning is silly? 

She predicted I was suffering from low Vitamin D, a problem she was seeing among many of her patients, due to our record cold and snowy winter.  She reminded me that even in summer my Vitamin D level tends to be fairly low. She asked if I’d been taking the supplement she recommended to me the last time I’d seen her, back in June.  I admitted that no, I hadn’t. She told me to start taking a supplement and said she’d be in touch once she got my test results. 

Yup.

She was right about the Vitamin D. Probably about the marathoning too, but I’m not ready to listen to reason there yet. 

My summer levels hover at a barely there 32. My Vitamin D level this February was 17. My doc prescribed 50,000 units of Vitamin D once a week for twelve weeks, then 1,000 units a day.

Within days of taking that first supplement, I started feeling better. Within a few weeks, I was carrying my weekly grocery shopping into the house in one trip and running up the six flights of stairs at work again.  The depression and fatigue lifted. The stomach upset subsided. The deep aches abated. I began making huge strides with my trainer. I was back.

I’d planned on three spring marathons, but by the time I was well enough to run again, it was March and I'd run out of training time. Instead, I chose to work toward completing a stupidly hilly summer marathon  I'd had my eye on for years. 

This week, that summer marathon kicked my behind big-time. But every ache was one of those good ones that reminded me of how lucky I was to be alive. I recovered like a dream. 

I’m still awash in these huge waves of gratitude that come from understanding how phenomenally lucky I am. This week, the biggest problem in my life wasn’t anywhere near as serious as what so many folks dear to my heart are coping with. I’m not dealing with cancer, or worrying how I'll put food on the table, or coping with the death of a loved one. 

This week, all I had to do was run for 26.2 miles.  And I did. And the best part is that I knew how lucky I was the entire time I was out there, which probably explains the idiotic grin I’m wearing in each of my race pictures.  I just couldn’t stop smiling. Still smiling now.  More to come. Smiles and words, I mean. Miles too.

I'm running considerably slower than this, so I guess that makes me above average.