Shamrock Shufflin'

So I get a phone call on March 19th. It’s Coach Gags.

“How do you feel about running a 4-mile road race in Chicago next weekend on the 25th?”

My jaw dropped. Silence.

All these thoughts cluttered my head: A race? A RACE?! I’m not ready for a race. Am I ready? Why not. Holy crap, no I’m not. 4 MILES?! My longest tempo has been 3. Oh my gawsh, I get to wear my uniform. Where is that thing?? I haven’t seen it in months... What shoes would I wear?

Gags continued to explain that Nike wanted some representation and it would be a great opportunity for me to get a good, hard effort in.

“Alright, cool, ” I said. He had me at “Nike.”

We hung up and I gathered my cool, and before long, I was excited. I’M RACING!!!!!

10 minutes later, Gags called back.

“Alright, so for the race next weekend.. 5 miles.”

“5 miles??”

“Yeah,” Gags said. “5:40s. You can handle that.”

He could sense my hesitation but continued to assure me it was no big deal and I’d be fine. So I agreed and hung up the phone again.

Now here’s the tricky thing about 5:40s. Six months ago, I could finish my long run at that pace, no problem. But I didn’t know how it was going to feel in this race at my current fitness level. So yes, I was nervous. But the week flew by and before I knew it, I was on the Shamrock Shuffle 8k starting line with butterflies in my stomach and shaky, sweaty hands-- race jitters, a feeling I’ve missed so much.

I closed my eyes and went over the race plan: steady 5:40s, then finish the last mile or two with whatever is left in the tank. Got it.

The gun went off and the race plan went out the window as I latched on to the front pack of women. I couldn’t help it. Mile 1: top women were 4:58. I was 5:00.

Holy Mother! Gags is gonna kill me. New plan: DEEP BREATH! Don’t panic. Stay in control.

Fortunately, I handled the next four miles fine around 5:30 pace and had a strong finish. My time was a pleasant surprise (27:16) and a solid start to the upcoming racing season, although I wasn’t ready to throw a post-race party quite yet. No matter what the situation is, I’ll never be happy with getting my butt kicked. The Shuffle was just a fun opportunity to get rid of race nerves and excited to compete again.

Anyway, I couldn’t be more grateful for the tremendous support and encouragement I received prior to and after this race. I am truly blessed. My parents, coaches, teammates and friends blew up my phone immediately after the race with “Welcome back” text messages, smiley faces and exclamation points; my boyfriend picked me up at the airport with a dozen roses; and Coach Gags met me with a big hug at practice the following day. “I’m proud of you, kid,” he said.

But now, there’s more work to do and no time to waste. After a proud moment and comforting hug, Gags and I talked about the workout plans for the rest of the week.

Progression, progression, progression.

Making Progress

Coming back from an injury is no easy task.

Week 1 was awesome because I was all jacked up to be back. I did a lot of skipping and singing, and my running form was super bouncy. Workouts were short and sweet, designed to simply welcome my body back and make sure I was fully healed. Check.

Week 2 was tricky. 100m strides turned into 400s, which weren’t as easy as I’d hoped they’d be. I could barely run 10k pace for 8 of them. That’s when I knew I had some serious work to do.

Week 3 was a good one for me. 400s turned into 600s at a faster pace, and then later in the week, I could run 400s just under 3k pace. I wasn’t completely satisfied but at least pleased with the progression.

Week 4: Ow. Monday was my first workout with the distance ladies, and Coach Gags threw me right in the pack. I looked at the workout plan ahead of time and noticed that the 800m goal times matched the pace I hit for the 400s last week. Gulp! Having faith in my progression, though, I gave it a go. And it hurt. And I was tired. And I had to cut the 8s down to 500s before the workout was complete. But still. Progress.

Later that week, my confidence was renewed as my 400s with Franny matched mile pace. Yeaaaah, buddy!

Week 5: Today. When I read the workout plan, I almost peed my pants. But when Gags showed it to me, looking at me with complete confidence, I had no choice but to say, “Allllllrighty then.” I’d love to share it with you all but our workouts are TOP SECRET! (I’m kidding...but not really.)

So this workout. 1ks. With goal times faster than I’ve ever run. EVER! In all fairness, I was only supposed to run 900 of the 1000m with the girls for the first couple, and then 800m for the last few. But still. I knew it was going to be a doozy. Gags is the Boss, though, so off I went!

And guess what! It WAS a freakin’ doozy. I got dropped on one of them but sucked it up for the last one, and I was completely wiped out by the end of practice. For a while, I was a little down. I felt defeated after being dropped and having to run all-out to hit the times. But when I wrote everything down and thought about what I ran today, I noticed the most important part. It was progress. Every week of workouts have been longer and faster.

So when you’re coming back from an injury, take one week at a time. Don’t compare yourself to anyone but the athlete you were the day before. Are you stronger? faster? more confident? Good. Then you’re moving forward. And that’s all that matters.

More proof that the mind is a powerful thing

Yesterday was a big day for me. It was my first tempo run since...oh wow. A long time. (side note: a tempo run is a “comfortably hard run”) Sounds fun, doesn’t it?!

Anyway, I was nervous. EXCITED! But nervous. I’m not going to share the goal time Coach Gags gave me because it’s pathetic that it got me worried, but the fact is I had no idea what pace I could handle.

So at 5am I woke up, ready to go. Unfortunately, I had to twiddle my thumbs and try to relax another 4 hours until NJ*NYTC’s assistant coach, Eric, met me at 9am like we had planned. Finally, it was time.

Eric and I warmed up and discussed the goal pace. I warned him that it would probably be a pretty hard effort for me, but he assured me it was no big deal. Little did he know, I was already a little winded from our warm-up pace. I couldn’t help thinking, no WAY was this going to be comfortably hard.

After some drills and light strides, we took off. I’m not going to lie, it felt a bit quick, and I was a little worried after a half-mile. My watch was only showing the distance, so I had no idea if we were hitting the pace. Dear God, I thought. How does this pace feel hard?! How am I going to pick it up 10 seconds each mile?!

It’s kinda funny that Eric had no idea what was going on inside my head. There was only the sound of footsteps and mostly my breathing as we approached mile one. Eric looked at his watch and glanced over at me, waiting for my reaction.

“What was it?” I asked.

“Don’t freak out,” he said. “We’re a little quick.”

“Really?” Thank God, I thought. “What was it?”

We were quite fast.

“Freak out?!” I said. “That’s awesome!”

All of the sudden, my worries went out the window and I felt light of my feet again. Weird, huh? I was only feeling fatigued the first mile because I was discouraged that a slow pace could feel so fast. Not because it was really hard. But once I knew we were running a respectable pace, my excitement turned into fuel, and I was ready to press on.

The next two miles came and went, and I finished with a better idea of my current fitness level. I have a lot of work to do, of course. But I’m happy with my starting point.

Here we go! Again.

Wow, I just realized it’s been almost three months since my last blog post. I’ve had nothing good to say about running, so I went MIA for a bit.

Here’s what happened. The day after Christmas, I ran my first workout since the plantar fasciitis disaster that started in July. The workout was unimpressive, as I was clearly out of shape, but I was happy to be running hard again. It was at least a start in the right direction. And I was healthy.

But that didn’t last long. A weird ache in my left foot the day after the workout turned into a sharp pain the day after that. I woke up on New Years eve and could barely walk. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for 2012. Within a week, I got an MRI and was diagnosed with a stress reaction in my third metatarsal. Six weeks later, here I am again, taking careful steps as my body gets used to running again.

So, what do you do when you’ve worked out hard only once in the past 7 1/2 months, and the Olympic Trials are in 4 months? Answer: you focus on the 4 months ahead. I’m not sure how realistic it is for me to aim at making the Trials, but that’s my goal. Right now, I hardly feel like a runner, but I know from past experience that the feeling comes back fast. The years of miles and hard work is in me...somewhere. My body knows how to deal with pain. I know how to be tough and competitive. Those things don’t go away. I’m preparing myself now for the first few workouts and races where I know I’ll be disappointed. Nobody likes being out of shape. But I’m anxious for the progression, as I will get faster and more fit each week. Even after the Trials, there are many summer and fall races to look forward to. And then, of course, many years full of opportunities even further down the road.

On another note, I may have discovered a link to my recent spell of injuries and illness. Throughout college, I struggled with random stomach aches and head aches, and was always borderline anemic. Even after trying several different kinds of iron supplements, my ferritin levels stayed low. During the past year, though, things have gotten worse with migraines and stomach aches keeping me up at night. I also passed out on a run a couple months ago, so it’s clear something is wrong.

I played around with my diet a bit and noticed a change when I omitted gluten for several weeks. When I added it back in my diet for a test, I felt sick, and noticed a skin rash on my back and stomach. Coincidence? Weird. Celiac disease can cause so many different issues... it would certainly explain much of what I've been going through. I’ll know soon enough. I’m getting some tests done and crossing my fingers for some answers.

So that’s where I’m at. Not ideal, but not the worst. It’s going to make for one hell of a comeback story.

Don't worry. Be happy!

I wake up to the sunshine peaking through the window blinds. The air is chilly, but I’m cuddled up in warm arms, comfortable and secure. I think about the day ahead of me. I can run. I can dance. I can hop around and slide across hardwood floors. It feels so good to be myself again.

I decided to change up the calendar year a little bit by ending 2011 on October 31st and welcoming 2012 a bit early. My new year starts now, with a new pair of sneakers and a smile. Any objections? Good. ‘Cause 2012 has already been fantastic.

A few months ago, I posted on my blog how to get rid of plantar fasciitis, thinking I was over the hump. Well that was embarrassing... false alarm. That’s why I haven’t blogged in a while. I didn’t want to write about a comeback as I was still walking backwards. But finally...FINALLY, I’m moving forward. Again. Slowly, but surely.

In all honesty, this injury was exactly what I needed (if the Nicole from four months ago read that sentence, she’d probably knock me out). But really. Sometimes you just need a break. Not a week recovery break. Not even an 8-week recovery from a stress fracture break where you’re constantly stressing about cross-training. I mean I needed a couple weeks of being Nicole Blood, the fun, family-oriented kid-at-heart. Not the runner.

My family and friends were trying to distract me throughout this injury, but it wasn’t until last month when I finally stopped marking the calendar with the days missed running and instead started penciling in: “party,” “visiting home,” “NYC,” “party!” I started living. I was finally happy again. And without even realizing at first, the pain in my foot gradually subsided.

So now that I’m refreshed, mentally and physically, a challenge awaits: stay healthy. stay happy. be patient. I’ve got seven months until the Olympic Trials, where I hope to be on the starting line with a fit mind and body, excited for a chance. But even after that (and before that), I’ve got a life to live with all kinds of goals and challenges to take on. So, cheers to 2012! Lets have some fun!

Livin' Life

So here’s a question: would you rather live a life full of extreme highs and lows, passion and heartbreak, smiles and tears OR live a safe life, coasting somewhere in between it all?

My teammate Julie Culley and I talked about this the other day on our 2-hour Ellipti-Go ride. I’ve done a lot of cross-training alongside Julie during the past couple weeks (usually she is running and I am biking on grass), so we’ve pretty much shared our life stories. We’ve been through a lot of the same stuff-- good and bad. But we have no regrets. We love the thrill of taking chances and going after what we want, even if we’ve been let down a few times. As Candlebox sings, “ya gotta keep on keepin’ on.”

Julie and I agreed that life on a roller coaster is way more fun than life on a merry-go-round. I mean... I’m not going to lie. I’m totally the girl that gets to the front of the roller coaster line and tries to back out before my friends shove me into a seat. I’ll scream the entire ride, absolutely terrified, get off, and maybe throw up. But a few minutes later, I forget about the fear and miss the adrenaline rush. So... I get back in line.

As Julie and I shared some of our experiences with running and relationships, we concluded that we thrive on the drama. It’s not that we look for things in life to get complicated, but we’re not afraid to get passionate and go after things that may or may not work out. So WHAT if an injury takes running away from me for four months. The day I’m healthy, I will dust off my sneaks and get back to chasing my dream. So WHAT if the last person I gave my heart to ripped it in half. Twice. And tossed it aside. That won’t stop me from giving it away again.

For the most part, we all know exactly what we’re signing up for in life. Whether it refers to sports, careers or relationships, we choose the ride: smooth or CRAZY! My advice: take risks. Worst case scenario, you’ve got a great story for the kids.

For example: “This one time, I made a desperate attempt to get to a Halloween party in Hoboken in the middle of a snow storm. Then my windshield wipers stopped working and I was stranded, wearing a tight cat suit, ears and a tail...” See? Terrible experience. Awesome story. Love you, Steph :)

A Special Thanks

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth in the chlorine infested pool. Finally, my 75 minutes is up. I go home, eat some lunch, ice my foot, and head to the gym. Now it’s 45 minutes on the bike where I make up my own workout: pedal as fast as I can for as long as I can. Pedal slow until the burning subsides, and go hard again. I return home exhausted, but I wake up the next morning ready to do it again. I have faith it will pay off.

So how did I end up back here? I guess the cortisone shots wore out, like many people warned they would. I hardly got in one fast workout before the stab in my right heel came back. My last run was a 70 min. “long run” with teammate Steph Charnigo and my Pro-Activity strength trainer Eric Eisenhart. My heel was already hurting to walk on, but I was so fed up that I pushed my warning thoughts aside and started the run. Every step I took was a stab. By the second half of the run, I started getting a headache, probably from the pain. I knew it wasn’t smart, but to be completely honest, I was thinking that at least if I tore my plantar, I could take the necessary steps to heal it. It seemed better than playing this waiting game without any answers.

Although I wasn’t able to walk without pain for two weeks after that long run, the MRI last week showed nothing torn. I only have a small heel spur with some fluid and inflammation. The doctors said this was good news, but I didn’t think so. To me, that just meant-- welp, guess it’s just plantar fasciitis. Wonderful. Now what?

Obviously, I’m going through a rough time, but instead of continuing with this sob story, I want to write a shout out to the people who have been keeping me from jumping off a cliff. Ok, that’s a bit drastic. But you get it.

First, to my mom and dad, who I’ve called numerous times during the past couple weeks, sobbing over the phone. They probably never understand a word I said, but somehow always knew the right things to say in response. My mom even road tripped three hours just to come with me to my last doctor appointment. Yes-- I’m 23. My mom still comes to the rescue. And always will.

Second, to my housemates who have already become my closest friends. I try not to be a downer around them because I know they’re all getting into great shape, and should be excited about it. Heck, Julie Culley is on a fricken roll right now! But she and the rest of the house greet me at the door with a bottle of wine when I get home from doctor appointments, ready to make me laugh, let me vent or whatever I need.

Third, to my trainers and therapists at Pro-Activity who have kept me positive and hopeful, and recently put me in touch with a great local doctor, Dr. More, who I trust will get me healed ASAP. I just started working with the Pro-Activity crew in NJ this fall, and I am so grateful for their immediate support.

Lastly, Coach Gags, who continues to call and text me a few times each day. “Work hard, kid.” “Keep your chin up, kid.” “Stay positive.”

Gags tried to joke with me the other day, saying, “Gosh, you were a bad investment!” But as my eyes welled up, he quickly pulled me in for a hug. “I’m only kidding! You’re fine! What are you worried about?”

I told him I was too fragile for jokes like that right now. Not to mention, it’s an emotional time of the month. Men don’t understand.

Anyway, my family and these new people in my life have made such a difference. Thanks, everyone, for helping me through this. It will be over sooner or later, I know. And until then, I’ll continue to work my butt off in the pool and on the bike. Like a boss.