My Recovery Team

Immediately after the surgery, I knew something was wrong. The procedure took much longer than expected and the surgeon indicated that the operation was much more complicated than he had originally anticipated. A week after surgery, my ankle and foot looked like an artificial limb – all puffed up and swollen beyond recognition in a disgusting shade of yellow (I won’t gross everyone out by posting the picture, but trust me, it’s icky). Plus, parts of my foot were numb to the touch, yet I was experiencing excruciating pain in parts of my foot that weren’t even targets of the surgery. Something as innocuous as a breeze hitting my toes caused severe pain, the likes of which I hope I never experience again.

So how did I get from deformed foot/ankle man to today? With lots of hard work and the support of my friends, family, and colleagues. However, there is a duo that deserves special recognition, my physical therapists, Anne and Jacob. These two had the unenviable task of treating me --- the king of complainers, the world class kvetcher, and the undisputed heavyweight champion of worrying.

When I started physical therapy two weeks after surgery, I couldn’t even move my foot. The swelling and pain were terrible. Before they could even begin having me do exercises, Anne and Jacob had to get the inflammation and pain under control, and did so primarily by rubbing and massaging my foot (they should get a medal just for doing that!) Gradually, we built up the rehab regime to include various stretches, leg and ankle strengthening exercises, as well as some cardio-conditioning on the stationary bike and elliptical machine.

To say that I am grateful to Anne and Jacob for all of their help would be an understatement. At the lowest point during recovery, I didn't think that I would ever walk or run again. Yet, Anne and Jacob were unwavering in their encouragement, support, and optimism and I have made a full recovery, due in large measure to their exceptional talent and skill.

Yesterday morning at Washington and Lee High School in Arlington, I went through a grueling workout at the track --- 400 meter repeats, 800 meter repeats, ankle strengthening and hip strengthening exercises, balance work, and leg strengthening. This was all done without pain, without soreness, without a limp, without even a hint of what had happened a year ago.

The benefits of physical therapy are obvious. I’m walking and running, training for a marathon, playing tennis, and taking up golf. But I also reaped another benefit, one that I never expected at the beginning of this journey --- friendship. To Anne and Jacob, for all you did to help me, and for your friendship, thank you.

POSTSCRIPT – Every Saturday I workout at the track at Washington and Lee High School under the supervision of Anne, who has agreed to be my personal trainer. She is helping me improve my fitness level and speed, and to provide guidance and strategy to avoid injury as I build up weekly mileage in preparation for the 2009 Los Angeles Marathon.

Courage

The word courage is defined in Webster’s dictionary as “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.” We often hear the word used in conjunction with athletics or politics, as when a great athlete showed great courage by playing through injury to win the big game, or such and such politician displayed courage by standing up to his party by taking a politically unpopular position on the issues.

I would argue, however, that this isn’t the real essence of courage. What takes real courage is to battle cancer, to endure the often harsh treatments that make you sick, leave you without hair, and make you feel lousy. It takes real courage to fight through the adversity of cancer and continue to live. My friend Kate (pictured above) has had stage four pancreatic cancer for over one year and I’ve never seen anyone in my entire life display more courage than her. She’s undergone countless tests, procedures, blood transfusions, chemo treatments, even a hospitalization. Yet through it all, she continues to work. She continues to see her friends. She continues to write an amazing blog about her battle with cancer and inspires others who are going through their own battles against this dreaded disease. You want real courage? Last year, I was bed ridden after my ankle surgery, and Kate came to visit me! She visited while she was going through chemo. That is the true definition of courage and of a great friend. Yes, the athletic feats by our sports heroes are amazing. Yes, the political stands taken by our politicians are important, but in real life, in the real world, it is Kate and the people like her who display the true meaning of courage everyday.

Running Naked in Rockville

I felt like I had nothing on during last night’s Rockville Twilighter 8k --- exposed, vulnerable, totally out of sorts. I was fully clothed for the race --- shirt, shorts, socks, shoes, timing chip, but I was missing something critical for all runners, a watch! The running watch is the lifeblood of every runner, about as important as shoes and socks, key for monitoring progress in a race and a major determinant of race strategy and tactics.



As I approached the starting line to begin the race last night, I looked at my left wrist to zero out the chron setting from the previous day’s run, and there was nothing on my wrist. Zip. Zero. Nada. What a blunder! At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. How would I be able to monitor my progress? How would I be able to keep an even pace without knowing how long I was running for? How could I forget this most important tool? Panic set in. This was going to be a difficult enough race with a watch --- 95 degree heat, high humidity --- running at a realistic pace is crucial in these types of conditions.

The first two miles went by with relative ease, and as I settled in and pushed through mile three, I looked at the race clock that is stationed at every mile and realized I was going too slowly, so I stepped on it and logged the last two miles in 16 minutes, much faster than I’ve run in a long time. As I approached the finish line and saw the big race clock overhead, I realized I would easily beat my goal of 50 minutes. As it turns out, I finished in a little over 43 minutes, much faster than I had planned to run. My legs felt fine, I was tired and my shirt was soaked through from the humidity, but otherwise I felt great. I survived running without a watch and probably did better than if I had worn one. Does that mean I’m going to ditch the watch in future races? Not a chance, but it worked out well for me last night and it’s just another strange twist and turn in my recovery from ankle surgery and return to running.

The Saturday Breakfast

Traditionally, I like to do a hard work out and/or long run on Saturdays, followed by a nice, big breakfast (think eggs, pancakes, and hashbrowns) at a diner or other dive-type place. Below is a list of my favorites. The rotation is becoming kind of stale though, and I'm always looking to add new places --- would love to hear your suggestions.

The Diner (Adams Morgan)
American City Diner (Friendship Heights)
Silver Diner (Rockville)
Parkway Deli (Silver Spring)
The Original Pancake House (Bethesda)

New York or Philly?

The New York City Half Marathon is a mere two weeks away, and I need to make a decision: run the race or scratch it from the schedule. This is one of the best races anywhere in the country. One lap around Central Park, then straight down Seventh Avenue through Times Square (passing such landmarks as Carnegie Hall), head over to the West Side Highway, and finish near Battery Park. Except for the New York Marathon, this is the only road race run through the streets of Manhattan. I ran the inaugural race back in 2006 and set a personal best at the half marathon distance, 1 hour, 43 minutes, one second, good for a pace of 7:51 per mile.

Fast forward to the present: barely two months back into running full time, trying to find my stride again, both in terms of speed, pace, and endurance. The longest distance I’ve run during the comeback is eight miles, and it was a struggle. If I decide to run New York in two weeks, I’ll have to take the opposite approach from 2006: slow, steady, cautious. This is out of necessity, to prevent both injury and hitting “the wall” and running out of energy. I don’t like to run this way, but for the time being, it's my reality.

I talked it over yesterday with my friend Anne, a very important person when it comes to all things ankle. You see, Anne was one of two physical therapists I worked with during my recovery from ankle surgery, and she is now my personal trainer (more about her and the other pt Jacob in an upcoming blog entry). Anyway, Anne framed my dilemma perfectly: I could run the race in New York and finish, but I wouldn’t be able to run it the way I want and I would probably be frustrated and miserable. She knows me well!

I’m 99% sure that I’m going to scratch New York, continue to train hard, strengthen my ankle, improve my fitness, speed, and endurance, and target a half marathon in the fall, perhaps the Philadelphia Distance Run in September. In the meantime, there are lots of shorter distance races being staged in the DC area in the next few months; I plan to participate in as many of them as possible.

Patience

Way back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I was your typical, high energy, impatient little boy, always wanting instant gratification rather than taking the long view. Kids, especially at a very early age, are prone to such thinking. After all, at that age we don’t have the benefit of life experience, and our little brains can hardly see beyond the next minute or hour. By golly, if I want that cookie or the latest cool Atari video game, I want it now. What’s with this waiting or patience stuff? To this day I can still remember my mom preaching the old saying, patience is a virtue, and I suppose over the years, I have grown and matured (though that is subject to some debate) and am much more patient as an adult.

Since June 2007, I’ve had to exert more than my fair share of patience, first with the slow recovery of my ankle, then breaking my left elbow and going through yet more physical therapy, then enduring a nasty case of pneumonia this past spring. Through it all, I would tell myself that the end was just around the corner, and that better days were ahead --- PATIENCE, PATIENCE, PATIENCE, I kept telling myself.

Now that I’m better, with no major ailments or afflictions in sight, my reserve of patience seems to be dwindling, at least in regards to running, not a good thing when training for a marathon. Prior to injuring my ankle, I was what you would call an avid runner, some might say too avid. I would run 6 days a week, sometimes twice a day. I would run in the rain, in the snow, in hot and humid weather, in below freezing temperatures, nothing would deter me from pounding the pavement. In a typical year, I would run 15-20 races over varying distances from 5ks and 10ks, to 10 milers, half marathons, and of course the big daddy, a full 26.2. The injury was but a mere interruption.

Training for a marathon, like the race itself, requires a great deal of patience --- slowly building up your weekly mileage, slowly adding miles to your long runs and daily runs, and gradually increasing your pace and speed. Too much, too soon, too fast, and you’ll wind up injured. Yet as I write this post and realize that I need to take my time, there is a part of me that wants to go home this afternoon and run 20 miles. There’s a part of me that wants to prove that this ankle injury is behind me, a distant memory, and the only way to do it is to push myself to the edge, to the brink, even chancing injury. In the end I know that I shouldn’t and that I probably won’t go out for that run, yet there is still a small part of me, that five year old in me, that wants that cookie right now!

Heat, Humidity, Hills, and the Potomac 5K

Today’s Potomac 5k marked the second race in my comeback from ankle surgery. Prior to injury, a 5k would have been a piece of cake, a walk in the park, no big deal --- pick your cliché. It was an easy distance to run, the type of race I could finish in less than 22 minutes without exerting myself. One ankle surgery later, with a year and half layoff, and even a shorter distance race becomes a challenge.

I started off the race knowing I couldn’t push myself the way I used to, not at least until I get back into shape. I set a realistic goal of finishing in under 27 minutes, which averages out to less than 9 minutes per mile, respectable, especially coming off an injury, but no where close to the 7 minutes per mile I used to churn out in a race of twice the distance. From the beginning today, I struggled. The weather was warm and extremely humid to the point where I was sweating even before the race began.

I started off the race pretty well, completing the first mile in 8:07, second mile was even faster, 8 minutes flat. At that point I’m thinking that I could kick it up a notch and finish in under 24 minutes. Wow, how wrong I was! 100 yards into mile three my legs started aching, I felt completely overheated, my shirt was completely soaked through --- I hadn’t felt this wiped since I hit the “wall” during the 2003 Chicago Marathon and wound up walking the last 2 miles. This time, however, I would have none of that. There was no way I would surrender and walk, no way I would let a 5k beat me down, so I pushed on, running slower and slower, but still running. The hills, oh there were some steep ones, started to wear on me, yet as I approached the last hill on the course, I felt a sudden surge of energy, and resumed running at the pace I had used during the first mile. As I ran down hill towards the finish line, I glanced at my watch and was amazed to see that I would easily finish in less than 27 minutes.

My official time for today’s race: 25 minutes, 22 seconds, good for an 8:09 per mile pace. On the one hand I was happy with my time, given everything I’ve gone through in the last year and a half, on the other hand, it also shows that I have a long way to go before I’ll be ready for a marathon. Thank goodness the L.A. Marathon is 8 months away.

Happy Birthday to Me: Wimbledon, A New HD-TV, Steak Dinner, and Good Health

Birthdays are a time to celebrate. Some throw themselves a big blowout party, others take a group to dinner, and others still go on a trip or take a long weekend getaway with a significant other. I have developed my own traditions over the past 33 years: watching Wimbledon, taking a long afternoon nap, eating a steak dinner at a top shelf steakhouse, plus sometimes mixing in the occasional summer blockbuster movie, a round of mini-golf, and/or a few frames of bowling. It’s a winning formula, and those of you who know me well know I love my traditions! Yesterday, my 33rd, was no different. I watched Roger Federer dominate his quarterfinal match, I bought myself a fantastic new 37 inch Sony HDTV (March madness at my place next year), and had a thoroughly enjoyable and delicious dinner with my parents at Charlie Palmer Steak near the Capitol building in Washington, DC.

As I was eating birthday cake last night, I couldn’t help but reflect upon my situation one year ago. At that time, I was one month post-surgery and not doing well. I couldn’t walk, my right foot was so swollen and puffed up it didn’t even look human, I had pain throughout my foot and ankle, yet parts of my foot were numb to the touch. My legs were so weak from lack of use that I couldn’t even stand in the shower and had to use a shower bench, something normally reserved for the elderly, not a 32 year old marathon runner. The progress with my recovery was slow to none and the orthopedist thought this was being caused by reflex sympathetic dystrophy (RSD), a rare nervous system disorder that is sometimes caused by the trauma of surgery. To say that this was the low point of my life would be an understatement. I never thought I would walk or run again, or live a normal pain free life for that matter.

Oh what a difference a year makes. After physical therapy three days a week for almost a year, lots of hard work, and the unwavering support of my family, friends, and colleagues at work, I’m pretty much back to normal. It turns out I didn’t have RSD, but a case of badly bruised nerves. It turns out I was able to walk again and now I’m training for a marathon, and 99% of the pain has disappeared. All in all I have pretty much made a full recovery.

Yes the new high def tv is nice, the presents are great, the well wishes from everyone is terrific and I’m grateful for people remembering my bday. AND of course the steak dinner last night was awesome.; but what I enjoyed most about yesterday was being healthy. It’s something I used to take for granted, but I now know from my own experience and from watching my friend Kate's battle with cancer, that good health is something to be cherished, to be grateful for, and never to be taken for granted.

Ok, so I don’t want to end on too serious a note, so below is my top 5 steakhouse list - would love to hear yours.

1. Sparks Steakhouse (New York City)
2. The Palm (Washington, DC)
3. Chicago Chop House (Chicago)
4. Metropolitan Grill (Seattle)
5. Charlie Palmer Steak (Washington, DC)