I’m Finally Going To Heal…

…but that doesn’t make this feel any better.

I knew it was time.  I know I had to do this, but it still hurts.

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The End of My 2019 Marathon Dream

…and with that long run, my 2019 marathon dream is over.

Today was supposed to be my last long run, a final effort, to prove to myself that I could actually do the marathon.  The truth, the reality I must face, is that I can’t.  Not this year.

I gave it everything I had.

And then some.

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12 Miles Closer…

Today I bit off way more than I could chew.

I was fortunate, all three of my sons were home to celebrate a birthday, and two of them, Ryan and Ethan, are training for some upcoming long races.  Because of that, they were both willing to slog along on a twelve mile “run” with me.

Our goal was to complete the entire Saddle River Bike Path, from Ridgewood to Rochelle Park, and then back again…a twelve mile jaunt.

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A Willingness To Cross Boundaries…

I believe that the marathon is about equal amounts of physical and mental toughness.  I think the mental toughness aspect of the race is often times more important than the physical side.  There comes a time in every race, and in every training run, when most runners want to quit.  I can say this unequivocally, there comes a time, usually multiple times, in every run when I want to quit.

Running is hard.  Very hard.  I have to continually and constantly resist the urge to quit.

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Progress (S-L-O-W Progress, but Progress Nonetheless)

My favorite runs are the ones I spend with my dear friend Ed.  Ed is a 33 time marathoner (I have just done 21 of them).   He’s also an IRONMAN (something I will probably never be).  Ed is a warrior and an inspiration. 

He’s also a close close friend.  I cherish the times we run together.

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Achilles Tears… What Achilles Tears?

The NYC Marathon is 7 weeks away.

I upped my long run (on the treadmill, again) to 12 miles.  Again, not fast, but, slow and steady covers (if not wins) the race.  

I just have to push through the pain that accompanies the run.  The tears in my right Achilles aren’t exactly fun to deal with, during, or after the run.  But pain is temporary, pride is forever!

I took only one quick walking break today, for less than a minute, at 5.0 miles.

Today was another step in the right direction.   

I’ll push the distance to 15 miles next week.

New York City…here I come! 

(I’ll see the surgery center after the race.)

 

 

Tough As Nails

This week my orthopedist said that they’ll schedule my Achilles surgery in mid-November… after the NYC Marathon.

“If you want to try to run it… run it,” he said. 

I have to ramp up my long runs very quickly.  I only have 8 weeks until the race.

Today was a BIG step in the right direction.  I wasn’t fast.  I took quick walking breaks (less than a minute each) at .5, 1.5, 3.5, and 8.5 miles.

A BIG STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION!

Next Saturday, I’ll do 12. 

TOUGH AS NAILS!

Pain is temporary… Pride is forever!

 

 

 

Replacing One Type of Pain With Another

I just got off the treadmill.  I’m tired.  I’m in some pain.  I’d like to go to bed, but it’s morning.  I’m tired.  Real tired.  But, underneath all of this exhaustion, I feel alive.  I feel more alive than I’ve felt in a long time.

It’s good to feel ALIVE!

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One Last Shot… A Real Life Baseball Story (Part 13) – The Doctor, The Bench, and an All-Star

This is the story I didn’t want to write…

***

Two days after I pitched on June 23, I had my first appointment with the orthopedist.  This doctor is very well known and very respected.  He took X-Rays, put me through a battery of small tests, he examined my legs, took careful note of my right Achilles, and, after all of that, said that my baseball season, my softball season, and my running season are all over.

I knew this was coming.

We all knew this was coming.

I just didn’t want to hear it.

I still don’t.

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One Last Shot… A Real Life Baseball Story (Part 9 -The Second Start)

It all started as a sort of lark. A few dads from my school were talking about forming a baseball team and jokingly (or not) asked me if I was interested in playing. I immediately declined. While I have played competitive men’s softball for decades, I hadn’t played baseball since I was sixteen years old. While I might be pretty good at softball (on my good days), I was never very good as baseball.  

If I had one, my prime would have been a long time ago.  I’m fifty years old, well past baseball age.  I knew that a league like that wasn’t for me.

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