How to Train a Runner: Chapter 1

        

Preface: Background
My running career halted abruptly when I was 21 years old after a car accident. "Career" is probably a loose term. Perhaps I should use "love-hate-but-need" relationship. I never enjoyed running when I was required to do so in school. Running a mile felt incredibly painful, especially when it was 90 degrees outside and I had at least one foot less of my now-5 foot 4.5 inches. So why would I willingly run?

It took pure unadulterated teenage rage to transform into the love-hate-but-need relationship. I was 16 years old. Typically when upset, I would turn to the best and obvious solution: a pint of ice cream. Despite being a swimmer, I struggled with adolescent weight. In 9^th grade, a fellow class mate referred to me as “the fat twin” and my twin as “the skinny twin.” My grandmother tried to inhibit the weight gain stating boldly at a family dinner, “take the bread rolls away from her. Dara! You’re getting fat.”

By 16, I had discovered kickboxing and weight lifting at the gym. I had started slimming down. Ice cream, though, was still my go-to for emotional crises. I met a boy my age at a neighboring private school. Let’s call him Brad. I thought we were connected somehow. This connection quickly dissolved because of one double date. We went on a double date with his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend. I was the lucky one chosen to drive the four of us. We went to a skating rink nearby. Everything was as perfect as an initial date should be, until a little boy fell on the rink while we were leaving the skating rink. Initial chuckles by the males was not surprising. Brad’s best friend started hysterically laughing: grabbing his stomach from the laughter spasms, pointing at the little boy, and laughing so loudly that anyone in the rink could hear him. He screamed out insulting names about the boy. I stared at his behavior in horror. I was initially concerned for the safety of the little boy, who up to this point had not been able to get off the floor. Thankfully there were people on the rink who were able to help him.

I was not impressed with Brad’s best friend. He was a bully, who felt it was okay to embarrass a child. I hoped the laughter would cease. In the car on the short distance back to Brad’s best friend’s house, he kept commenting on the little boy, making further disparaging remarks. My silence at the rink was due in part to shock and the other to trying not to express my strong opinions in front of Brad. In the car, I could take it no longer. I threatened to let Brad’s friend out at the bottom of the steep hill to his house. In hindsight, I should have. Rumors spread around their private school that I made them walk home from the skating rink. It would have been nice to deserve those rumors.

The next day, Brad came to my house and broke up with me. “The fact that you didn’t like my best friend made me realize you’re not the girl for me.” What? WOW! I was very upset by this. I was angry. I didn’t want ice cream. I needed to do something with my rage! I was thinking, Brad is breaking up with me for his friend. His friend is a jerk. He didn’t even give me a real chance to get to know me. I was so mad. I sat on the curb after Brad left for a few minutes. Then, I decided to run. I was wearing flip flops. I didn’t care. I needed to get rid of this anger! I started running. I ran for miles huffing and puffing up hills. I still had anger.

I returned home and told my mom I needed to get some running shoes. We found a good name brand shoe in yellow and black from a shoe store. These shoes will make me fly, I thought. And so they did. Every day, I ran. I joined a gym and ran on a treadmill for 3-6 miles a day. I took the shoes with me to college, and kept running. I found Bikram yoga, and would do yoga 3-4 times a week, and run 2-3 times a week. I used my running on the UCSB Women’s Rugby Team.

Then I had a car accident. And my running career ceased almost as quickly as it started.

I kept doing the yoga and started walking. I would walk up and down hills. I walked all around different national parks in Australia. I walked to Franz Glacier in New Zealand from my hostel. I walked up to the top of the mountain I lived on in Queenstown. I walked around the French Quarters in New Orleans when I lived there. I walked along castles in England. I walked to the top of Arthur’s Seat while wearing flip flops in Scotland. I kept walking. For years, I tried to run. After one mile, I would feel a sharp, debilitating pain in my knee, so I would stop and resume walking.

Bikram yoga kept my knee stable for years. Every so often, I would be reminded of my knee. One time was on a hiking date with a man we’ll refer to as Donkey. Although, I don’t want to insult the donkey. I had met him while dancing at a restaurant. He told me he was going to be hiking 12 miles up Mt. Baldy the following morning. I told him I love hiking. He invited me to join. I had a great time on the hike. Until the last three miles downhill when my knee reminded me of it’s sharp dissatisfaction. I made a makeshift brace and hobbled down the mountain. Donkey seemed like an ideal man. If it’s too good to be true, my mom advised, it probably is. He was 6 foot 3, muscular, and owned his own karate studio. He also had a fraternal twin sibling. Unfortunately, Donkey was only interested in one thing. He went so far as to meet both of my parents, some of my friends, and even try Bikram yoga. Afterwards, he made plans with me and would cancel. One day I received a text message from him. His intended recipient was his sister. He referred to me as “Crazy Hiker Chick.” When he realized his error, he disappeared from telecommunication. One year later, he texted me to see how I was doing and to apologize for his behavior.

Donkey was right. I am probably crazy. I voluntarily practice and teach in a room that is over 105 degrees with 40 percent humidity.  Thankfully, I found my soul mate. An equally crazy man who runs 100 km and 100 mile races through mountain regions, who practices Bikram yoga, and who loves me for me. His name is Nick.

Nick and I went for an 8 mile hike in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia. On the descent, my knee spoke up very loudly. Nick was concerned for my safety. I told him about how I would love for him to train me to run a mile. He told me he would happily do so….after I have my knee evaluated by a specialist.

My knee started protesting the running I was doing in my career. It started inhibiting my activities of daily life. And so I did what Nick recommended and had my knee assessed. One X-ray, one MRI, an arthroscopic procedure, and an amazing orthopedic surgeon later, I had the diagnosis and, hopefully, the fix.

Now for the hard part.

How to Train a Runner.

Part One: Get your knee fixed.

Surgery requires 2 weeks non-weight bearing, 6 weeks partial weight bearing, and 6 months of recovery. Surgical  complications to overcome: one cold foot, slight nerve damage, and knee pain.

To be continued.