On plotting and planning and being flexible

So I've been training for the Honolulu Marathon since May. Long runs started in earnest in mid-August, and a few of them were pretty awful.

I get bored sometimes on long run, but this wasn't that. This was knee pain. Weird, painful inflammation that made it impossible for me to bend my right knee beyond 45 degrees. Which made even just getting into the car after a long run kinda hard.

That pain, coupled with the really odd burning sensation that creeps into the toes of my right foot around mile four or five, really made me worry about those long runs. But still, I kept at it. I ran through the burning, used KT tape and a knee brace with the precision heretofore accomplished only by MacGyver, and I ran on. I had some good, nearly great, long runs as fall progressed. In the crisp air I was able to get 17 miles in and actually finish smiling.

The look on my face is exactly how I felt.

Then, in early November, I found myself running a 10K in Florida. By process of elimination, I think
the heat has more to do with knee pain than I had previously considered, because the first few miles went by without a hitch, but by mile four, I could barely run.

I would rather run my 17 miler back home in the cold than run another six miles in Florida. Which scares the crap out of me, because Hawaii is warm. Still, I figured I would press on, because there is no time limit in Honolulu and I am not a quitter.

Then, as if by divine intervention, I learned the Honolulu races allow runners to change their registration. I could downgrade from the marathon to the 10K. (They actually mentioned that runners could change from the Merrie Mile, a one-mile race, to the marathon. Who are they talking to with the whack suggestion?)

I thought about it. I considered how hard I've been working, how much time I've put in. Training. Preparing. But none of that is truly lost by deciding to run a shorter distance. I thought about the friends who were coming along for this crazy marathon journey - two of the best friends a girl could ask for, my sister Jenn and my friend Linda. Would I be letting them down? Would they be disappointed? But I know my tribe. They don't judge. They want what's best for me, and they want me to decide what that is.

I took a little over a week, mulling over my options in some sort of emotional yoga, and deciding how I really felt about it. And then I changed my registration.

I will be running 6.2 instead of 26.2, and I'm fine with it.

From the time I started my fitness journey, some of the best advice I've (repeatedly) received is "listen to your body." My body doesn't want to run a marathon in three weeks. I'm not saying never, but I am saying that unless and until I figure out what is causing the inflammation, I'm fine not running long. Not everyone is cut out to be an endurance runner. Hell, lots of people - most people - never run a race of any length. And that's okay, too.

I don't know what the future holds after this 10K on December 8. But here's what I know for sure:

• I am grateful to have the opportunity to run a shorter race than the marathon. This is almost unheard of in any other race I've done. Thank you, Hawaii, for letting me earn a shirt and a medal!
• I'm proud that I did the training, even though I won't be running the full distance.
• I won't quit running.
• I won't quit cycling.
• I won't quit swimming.
• I won't quit trying new things where health and fitness is concerned.

The view from the top of Diamond Head. Worth the long flight.

Truth be told, I would want to go to Hawaii whether there were a race or not. It is my favorite place on the planet. It is lovely and warm and special, and I would want to go there to spectate, to run, or just for a maitai. (But that would be a very expensive and time-consuming maitai.)

Hawaii holds part of my heart. It is a place I've shared with Dad, and it will tug at my memories of him, for sure. But this trip will be special in its own ways. This time, I'll get to see my bestie run 26.2 miles. I'll get to show my favorite place to her. I'll get to laugh with Jenn as we remember past trips, and together we'll cry and eat hula pie and poke and spam and macadamia-encrusted fish and drink really good coffee and frozen blue drinks ... and it will all feel wonderful. So the trip is different than what it was when we started planning two years ago. It is different than what I registered for. But it is exactly what it's supposed to be.