I haven't written anything in awhile because I've been too frustrated, but here is a recap from where I left off.
Following my visit to the sports injury doctor, I tried to get a PT or ART chiro appointment but couldn't get anything scheduled until after the marathon date. So I just took complete rest and hoped that I could heal and get through the race. I was hoping for a miracle, I guess. On the Wednesday, I ran a half a mile. It felt okay. On Friday, I attempted two miles. By 1.5, I was hurting a bit. 26.2 would be a long shot.
Brittany, Jamie and I arrived to Virginia Beach and I pretended like I was still going to race. I went to the expo, picked up my packet, carbo loaded with them, and got into my awesome race attire.
There wasn't a 3:30 pacer, and I couldn't find my Garmin, so I was depending on Brittany -- I'd just have to stick with her. The gun went off, and I was feeling pleasantly strong for the first two miles. Then, just as we passed our hotel for the first time, I started to feel that niggling annoyance in my hip that I knew would probably turn to excruciating pain within another few miles. We were heading away from the beach, and we wouldn't pass my hotel again until mile 13. As soon as I stepped off the causeway bridge at mile 3, I felt a shooting pain up my thigh. "I'm done, Brittany. I'll see you at the finish."
My first DNF. Ever.
It was 41 degrees, and I was wearing next to no clothing (thank goodness I had the leg warmers!) so I ducked in the first hotel I saw and registered for text messages updating me on Brittany and Jamie's progress. Then I walked back to our hotel and was thrilled to find they were still serving their amazing brunch until 10 a.m. I sat down and had fresh waffles, coffee, and eggs, and started chatting to some of the other folks in the hotel. I met a woman on crutches who was waiting for her husband to finish. She also had trained for the marathon, and couldn't run. She had torn her plantar faschia in January. Yikes.
The first text came in and Jamie was running at a 7:24 pace. He needed a 7:26 to qualify for Boston, so that was a good sign. I finished breakfast and went to the lobby.
There I met a man who had done the half marathon earlier that morning as a tune-up race for Boston. He said he'd qualified for Boston three times, and still hadn't run, because he'd never made it to the start without an injury.
Text #2 -- Jamie crossed the halfway mark at a 7:22 pace. Looking good.
I sat down in front of the fireplace and started talking to a woman who was tracking her husband as well, and also had registered to run the race. She had a pelvic stress fracture. Sheesh. My hotel was like injury central for running spouses.
Text #3 -- Jamie crossed the 18 mile mark at a 7:21 pace. Time to head to the 26th mile and wait.
The finish clock read 3:08 when I passed it. I walked a little further, and waited for Jamie. I saw a couple people from his running team, and then was a little surprised to see him, all by himself on the boardwalk, at the 26 mile marker just around the time the finish clock hit 3:10. I wasn't sure if I could keep up with him, but I'd try.
And there you have it. 3:11:29. Average pace of 7:19, negative splitter, my husband, new Boston Qualifier. How did we ever qualify in the same year? Well, as much as I hated to be injured, and as stupid as it probably was to run the last .2 miles with him at under a 7 minute pace (he did the last mile at 6:45!), that moment was priceless. Had I run, I wouldn't have gotten to see him cross the finish line.
This was my third Shamrock marathon, and I don't even remember the post race party at the first one, I was so out of it from the run, and in 2010 I broke my foot somewhere along the 17th mile (my only other significant running injury to date... apparently Shamrocks do not bring me much luck...) and skipped the festivities altogether. This time, I figured I paid $110 for the Irish Stew and beverages, and I was going to enjoy it.
So that was two and a half weeks ago. I saw my PT the following day, and found out my hip was out of rotation. Probably a good thing I stopped at 3 miles. I haven't run since. More on the injury later, but for now, I just wanted to share that BOSTON 2014, WATCH OUT! THE LYNCHES ARE COMING!