The decision to run my first marathon was made last December, and confirmed in January when I signed up for the race. It wasn’t something I’d happened upon lightly. I’d run countless 5ks, a handful of 10ks, and a half-dozen half marathons. Plus, I was turning 26, and running 26 miles during my 26th year seemed like a good idea.
As I prepared for my first marathon I read plenty of blogs for first timers. Pinterest is lousy with ’em. What I wish I knew before my first marathon, Top Five Tips for your best marathon, Read this before you run! etc. I’d read it all, and had my training schedule set. Sadly, I never got to put any of it to use (why? because this). But, I did get something out of it:
The Ten Things I Learned from NOT Running My First Marathon
- Be able to accept, and ask for, help: When your leg is in a cast, and non-weight bearing, and you’re on crutches, there is not much you can accomplish. Hold a cup of tea? Sure. But want to take a step anywhere and set that tea down? Nope. I found that I needed to rely on others for almost everything, and that can be really difficult. I needed my main man to help me up stairs, friends to help me get ready, and strangers to help open doors and carry things to my car. It was a very humbling experience, but made me much better and asking for, and accepting, help.
- Other people are facing struggles: Being on crutches, and in a wheelchair (historic Norwegian cobblestone streets: miserable in a wheelchair), has opened my eyes to how difficult everyday life can be if you’re not mobile. Shops, apartments, and workplaces are not accessible, and I have never once given that a second thought. Whether it was Plato or Ian MacLaren, I now much more appreciate the “be kind…” sentiment.
- Goals can change: My big goal for 2015 was to run a marathon. After I had registered for the race and started training, it quite literally never occurred to me that I wouldn’t finish the race. It wasn’t until the day of the race, watching my friends finish, that it became real. This goal wasn’t going to be achieved. I had to move onto something else. And now those friends that I watched run a marathon and I are going to compete in a triathlon relay. New goals to set my sights on!
- Do your homework: As my physical therapist jokingly told me, “it’s not my knee.” As much work as he did while I was in his office, the road to recovery is really slow if I don’t do the exercises on my own. It pays to do your homework, and I can’t blame Sammy dog for eating it.
- Be approachable: I have a slight case of resting bitch face, and am totally ok with it. I also often stand with my arms crossed, because they are long and I don’t know what else to do with them. All of this leads to being a touch unapproachable when out in public. Ever since I broke my leg, people have wanted to talk to me about it every time I go out. People are ready to share their health advice (“one spoonful of olive oil every morning is the secret to a long life”), their stories of broken limbs (“my cast was so much bigger than that! It went all the way up my leg”), or about their child’s broken limbs (“six weeks and then she was as good as knew! You’re going on four months now?”). As an usually unapproachable person, it was a lot at first. But after the initial shock, it was actually pretty great. The easiest way to connect with someone is to share a story, and by god, a broken leg is a good story.
- It’s ok to have a breakdown: Sometimes, you just have to feel sad. And that’s fine. Allow yourself some time to feel sad; sit by yourself, sit with a friend, take a drive, cry on your shower seat (am I the only one under 70 and owns one of these?), and let it all out. Validate your feelings, acknowledge the space, and then you can move on.
- Be your own advocate: Listen to your body, and your gut. If you think something is wrong, speak up. I was having serious pain in my right leg while on crutches, and brought it up to my doctor. He said there was probably nothing to worry about, and I wasn’t going to do anything to my leg while on crutches – it wasn’t like I was running anymore. I persisted at my next visit, and pushed for an x-ray. Turns out, there was a stress fracture in my right leg as well! I wouldn’t have known if I wasn’t my own advocate.
- Find the humor: While in Norway (again: cobblestones + wheelchair, yikes!), a woman pointed at my leg, and asked if there was an accident. I replied, “yes, I broke my leg while I was running.” She smiled, cocked her head, and said, “you weren’t even on a glacier?” Ha! That is the best response I’ve ever received. You have to be able to laugh.
- Give yourself time: Time to heal. Time to recover. Time to be sad. Time to get places while on crutches. Seriously, those things slow you down. For 3+ months I was operating on crutch time, which means everything takes roughly 23 minutes longer than without crutches.
- Make sure you dance: I attended a wedding shortly after breaking my leg, and was just sitting down during the reception. There was lots of dancing, glowsticks, champaign – I was missing the best part! My main man dragged me out on the floor, he knows I like to shake my tail feather. I was really resistant, being on crutches and with a cumbersome boot, but he wouldn’t hear it. So out on the floor I went, and it was really fun! The bride and groom loved it, and a person on crutches makes a great fixture to dance around.
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance
(Lee Ann Womack)
Best in Seattle 