For anyone counting, this race was my 16th half marathon, and was unfortunately set to be the last runDisney Disneyland half marathon for the foreseeable future. We were planning to participate in the Avengers races for at a minimum of 5 years, or 6 to get all the infinity stone challenge medals (each year the challenge medal has a different…
Big deal races (and runDisney) require a POT (proof of time) if you want to be in a good corral (A or B, but really A) on race day, and not elbowing your way through the people who are here for the medal and a long ass walk. The last time I needed to sign up for a race solely for a POT was prior to my very first race, so, almost four years ago. Unfortunately for me, after taking almost a year off of running races because of my hip injury, and then returning to running about 30 seconds per mile slower, all I had were some disappointing (to me) race finish times to submit.
In the past, I flat out refused to submit any POT that was from a downhill race. This year, I was willing to bend the rules (my rules) a little with the Haunted Half being that it is half down emigration, half Salt Lake streets. Therefore, only half cheating…
2016 wasn’t the best year for us … there were a lot of trial-and-error DIY projects, I broke my hip, and a Cheeto got elected president. But there were some good things that happened. Can’t think of any right now…
We showed up to the starting line and took lots of terrible pictures in the dark, said good luck to Chad (who was going for some kind of world record) and Crystal (who was in another corral), and went on our merry way. The race course was pretty similar to last year’s 10k, but it steered clear of Critter Country and Frontierland (no spoilers or behind the scenes on the new Star Wars Land for these runners!). Still we had plenty of time on park property, lots of Hero & Agents of SHIELD photo ops, and volunteers cheering us on.
I was so insanely excited to start using the “special treadmill for injured people”. I got into the most ridiculous looking machine you’ve ever seen, one designed to take the weight of gravity off my lower half, and I ran for 30 seconds and walked for 4 minutes and repeated that for as long as they would let me. I was deliriously happy. And then they told me I wasn’t progressing normally and needed to back off for another three weeks. I cried in the car on the way home from that PT visit because I had been holding on to that being my starting again point. The one shining beacon getting me through missing three races. And it was taken away. I was back to square one.
And it finally sunk in what I had refused to admit to myself: I didn’t know where or when my next run was going to be.
Aside from checking into an assisted living facility in Florida?
With the kind of break I’m dealing with, surgery is not recommended. I’m just supposed to “stay off of it” for 6 weeks. The greater part of those 6 weeks involves crutches. Then you play the fun game of “find out what you can and can’t do based on how much it hurts.” Basically, if it hurts, I can’t do it.
Running is out of the question for all of the 6 weeks and probably longer.