Yesterday started amazing and finished very un-amazing and awful. I had a 2 hour ride and a 1 hour run scheduled. The weather was perfection, but cold. Check out the full moon sneaking down behind Longs Peak.
I swallowed down a Lara Bar (thanks Lara for sending this box of delicious goodness – my favorites are the nut rolls – I love nuts. And the chocolate chip cookie dough. I was sort of dissapointed in the Pumpkin Pie, however – sort of dry, IMHO):
That white thing is an awesome Lululemon headband, which my daughter has already stolen.
I put on 5 million layers and my new shoe covers (best purchase I’ve made in a long time, maybe EVER) because it was about 28 degrees, which on the bike feels like –28 degrees.
Here I am channeling my inner Maria Kang, but with more clothes on and without children because they were asleep and ornery and not as cute as her kids:
The ride was uneventful, yet one of those gorgeous, crisp fall days that that simply make you happy to be alive and to be moving. I spent a lot of time thinking about Ironman Florida, knowing that in exactly two weeks I would also be on my bike and would be in the middle of one of the most fantastic and challenging days of my life.
I got home, hopped off the bike and changed for my run. I felt great. My plan was to run like I would right off the bike in Florida (which would probably mean all hunched over and crawling). I headed out and then…it happened.
I got about 50 feet from my house when there was a shooting and excruciating pain in my lower back. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I literally could not move. I stood there wondering what to do, not sure I could walk. My knight in shining armor (Ken in the Ford Edge) just happened to be driving home. He rolled down the window to ask if I was okay. NO! I am not f&cking okay! He tried to get me into the car, but my body wouldn’t bend that way. He helped me hobble the few steps home.
I put a bag of frozen peas on my back and downed some Ibuprofen. Ken got a hot bath going for me. I let myself have a quick and acute crying fit full of snot flying – the true UGLY cry. The big fear running through my head: what if I can’t do my race in 2 weeks?
I sat in the tub dumbfounded. What the hell had just happened? I hadn’t had back pain in months. I felt awesome coming off the bike. Just the day before I had been marveling at how unscathed I had come through my rigorous training. I have never had anything like this happen before. I am a back-seizes-up virgin.
I called Coach Sharpie, having crying fit #2. Her confidence that I would still show up on the beach in Panama City on November 2nd ready to kick ass made me feel better. She told me to stay in the moment, to take care of myself, to see my PT on Tuesday and to calm down. So, that’s what I did. I ate frozen pizza, drank some wine, watched House Hunters and slept for 12 hours. And, of course skipped today’s 50 mile ride. To be honest, I’m not stressed about missing workouts at this point. I just want to be able to actually move on Nov. 2.
Today the back is a bit looser and I can actually go up the stairs and walk. 13 days and counting to overcome this thing and go from barely being able to walk to 140.6 miles. How’s that for drama queen?
Send me all of your best and most sincere back healing vibes. I know you guys get it. It’s going to be okay, right?