Hanging Up Your Shoes
Author’s note: The article was written over a series of months, starting in early August 2012.
There is a question that many of us have asked ourselves, many have not, and many have been forced to address. That question is: When do I hang up my shoes and call it quits in terms of marathons. I have friends who, after completing their 50-state quest, hung up their shoes, basically because they had met their goal. Some went on to other pursuits (triathlons, shorter races, travel, spend time with family). Some just retired. At the other end of the spectrum, there are those who have no intention of hanging up the shoes. The goal is to keep running and running and running. And then there are those of us who have been forced to address the issue: this is my story.
After completing the 50 states and starting on my second circuit, my times became consistently slower and I was running with considerably more pain. The fun was going out of it. But being the obsessive-compulsive personality that I am (aren’t all of us who are involved in this endeavor), I continued running. After all, I wanted to complete 100 marathons, with two in each state. That was when I planned to hang up my shoes. But after marathon number 85, something was terribly wrong. The pain and stiffness I was experiencing was getting progressively worse. I had my first DNF at the North Country Run - granted the course is not easy, but the pain was too much to continue even though I had seven more hours to complete the last ten miles. The following weekend I was at the Pocatello Marathon for the club reunion and opted (after much prodding by many of my friends) to switch to the Half. The pain was so bad and my performance so abysmal that I wrote to the director of the Little Grand Canyon Marathon that I was scheduled to run the following weekend and asked if they would carry me over to the following year, which they graciously did. Likewise, I then contacted the other six races I was signed up for and requested to be carried over a year. All but one did.
I then called the orthopedic surgeon I had consulted with during the prior month and told him to schedule me as soon as possible. So, on October 24 arthroscopic surgery was performed on my right hip. The diagnosis was a torn glenoid labrum, which is a ring of cartilage that surrounds the hip socket and holds the head of the femur in place. During our consultation, he stated that there were three possible outcomes during the surgery. From best to worst they were: 1) re-anchor the labrum to the rim of the acetabulum if not too damaged; 2) allograft (attaching cadaver tissue to repair and reinforce the labrum, which requires an adequate amount of existing labral tissue as a base); or 3) debride (clean out the damaged tissue. Unfortunately, he was not able to repair the torn labrum and could only debride, stating that is looked like it had been run through a shredder. Recovery was slow: exercises at home, physical therapy two to three times each week, pool therapy. It was 6 months before I was allowed to run. My base was totally gone. So I had to start all over again, but this time with a compromised hip and 30 pounds heavier and eleven years older than when I completed my first marathon.
I was able to work my way up to 16 miles before the ‘great heat-wave of 2012’ kicked in. I had to pick and choose when I would run. I tried to be up and on the road by 2 or 3 in the morning to try to beat the heat or go out at 10 at night if the temperature dropped enough after sundown. On a cooler and cloudier day I was able to get up early and put in 18 miles with the aid of hiking sticks on the trail around a local lake. A week later I went out at midnight to try to get 20 miles in, but at mile seven I stepped off the edge of the asphalt, rolled my ankle and banged-up my knee. Fortunately, I always carried toilet paper and had a knee brace so I was able to fashion a make-shift bandage rather than having blood run down my leg and into my sock. What was supposed to have been a twenty mile run turned into a seven mile run and a three mile gimp home. It was three weeks again before I could run again. When I went out for another try at 20 miles, I got to mile eight and started to tighten up. By mile eleven I was starting to feel miserable. That night I was able to complete just over 14 miles. When I arrived at home, I lay down in pain for 20 minutes before forcing myself to get up and shower so I could go to bed (after all, it was 2:30 in the morning). That was when I came face-to-face with hanging up my shoes. The next morning, as I lay in bed and my wife came in to tell me she was leaving for work, I told her I was done. I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.
Since then I have done some shorter runs. Just the other day we went to the mountains, where it is cooler, to try and do a long hike, since I am already signed up for the North Country Run again (I can’t live with that DNF). Since I have fourteen hours, I figured I could walk it. But my ‘long hike’ turned out to be only nine miles - not really good enough (in my book) to be ready for 26.2. I also am signed up for Pocatello again to try to redeem myself from last year and I also have the carry-over for Little Grand Canyon - which has no time limit. We’ll see what happens. Will I finish one, two, or all three of them? I don’t know, but I’m not very confident at this point.
To this day, 10 months after the surgery, the hip isn’t right. It’s difficult to bring my right leg up to wash my feet or tie my shoes. The flexibility isn’t what it was even before the surgery and there is still discomfort there (it is a different type of discomfort, but it is still present). I wake up with my hip stiff and painful.
I have often told hurting runners during marathons that there is no race so important that you injure yourself. I guess I need to listen to my own advice and my body. I know I have to hang up my shoes at some point. We all do. The question is: do we do it by choice or is it decided for us.
P.S., It’s now August 25 and I just completed the North Country Run in 9:39. We’ll see what next weekend in Pocatello brings (besides 85 degree heat).
P.P.S., I ran the first half of Pocatello in 2:39, did some slower jogging to mile 16 and then pretty much walked the rest of the way. The result: 6:26 and best of all, I beat the sag wagon.
P.P.P.S., Little Grand Canyon was beautiful. I want to go back some day just to camp and hike there. The day was hot, dry, and dusty. Since there was no time limit and my doctor has instructed me to avoid impact as much as possible, I walked the vast majority of the course. But I finished in 7:31.
Follow-up: It is now the day after Route 66. I have completed 9 marathons since the surgery and yesterday broke 6 hours for the first time since the surgery. My new normal is to view all my times in terms of post-surgery. It was kind of nice to have a new (post-surgery) PR. I have 6 more races and then must retire from distance running. The orthopedic surgeon had told me that if I continued to run marathons, the next surgery will be a full hip replacement. Rehabbing the arthroscopic surgery was bad enough, I definitely do not want to go through rehab for a hip replacement. So the Chicago Marathon in October 2013 will be bittersweet. It was my first marathon, it will also be my last marathon, my 100th marathon, and the completion of the 2nd time around the states. Sometimes reality slaps you in the back of the head to get your attention, which is no fun. But it will be time to hang up the shoes.
I’ve done a couple of sprint triathlons and really enjoyed them. I’ve threatened my wife that I want to do one in every state. She’s not going for it. Maybe century rides . . .
There is a question that many of us have asked ourselves, many have not, and many have been forced to address. That question is: When do I hang up my shoes and call it quits in terms of marathons. I have friends who, after completing their 50-state quest, hung up their shoes, basically because they had met their goal. Some went on to other pursuits (triathlons, shorter races, travel, spend time with family). Some just retired. At the other end of the spectrum, there are those who have no intention of hanging up the shoes. The goal is to keep running and running and running. And then there are those of us who have been forced to address the issue: this is my story.
After completing the 50 states and starting on my second circuit, my times became consistently slower and I was running with considerably more pain. The fun was going out of it. But being the obsessive-compulsive personality that I am (aren’t all of us who are involved in this endeavor), I continued running. After all, I wanted to complete 100 marathons, with two in each state. That was when I planned to hang up my shoes. But after marathon number 85, something was terribly wrong. The pain and stiffness I was experiencing was getting progressively worse. I had my first DNF at the North Country Run - granted the course is not easy, but the pain was too much to continue even though I had seven more hours to complete the last ten miles. The following weekend I was at the Pocatello Marathon for the club reunion and opted (after much prodding by many of my friends) to switch to the Half. The pain was so bad and my performance so abysmal that I wrote to the director of the Little Grand Canyon Marathon that I was scheduled to run the following weekend and asked if they would carry me over to the following year, which they graciously did. Likewise, I then contacted the other six races I was signed up for and requested to be carried over a year. All but one did.
I then called the orthopedic surgeon I had consulted with during the prior month and told him to schedule me as soon as possible. So, on October 24 arthroscopic surgery was performed on my right hip. The diagnosis was a torn glenoid labrum, which is a ring of cartilage that surrounds the hip socket and holds the head of the femur in place. During our consultation, he stated that there were three possible outcomes during the surgery. From best to worst they were: 1) re-anchor the labrum to the rim of the acetabulum if not too damaged; 2) allograft (attaching cadaver tissue to repair and reinforce the labrum, which requires an adequate amount of existing labral tissue as a base); or 3) debride (clean out the damaged tissue. Unfortunately, he was not able to repair the torn labrum and could only debride, stating that is looked like it had been run through a shredder. Recovery was slow: exercises at home, physical therapy two to three times each week, pool therapy. It was 6 months before I was allowed to run. My base was totally gone. So I had to start all over again, but this time with a compromised hip and 30 pounds heavier and eleven years older than when I completed my first marathon.
I was able to work my way up to 16 miles before the ‘great heat-wave of 2012’ kicked in. I had to pick and choose when I would run. I tried to be up and on the road by 2 or 3 in the morning to try to beat the heat or go out at 10 at night if the temperature dropped enough after sundown. On a cooler and cloudier day I was able to get up early and put in 18 miles with the aid of hiking sticks on the trail around a local lake. A week later I went out at midnight to try to get 20 miles in, but at mile seven I stepped off the edge of the asphalt, rolled my ankle and banged-up my knee. Fortunately, I always carried toilet paper and had a knee brace so I was able to fashion a make-shift bandage rather than having blood run down my leg and into my sock. What was supposed to have been a twenty mile run turned into a seven mile run and a three mile gimp home. It was three weeks again before I could run again. When I went out for another try at 20 miles, I got to mile eight and started to tighten up. By mile eleven I was starting to feel miserable. That night I was able to complete just over 14 miles. When I arrived at home, I lay down in pain for 20 minutes before forcing myself to get up and shower so I could go to bed (after all, it was 2:30 in the morning). That was when I came face-to-face with hanging up my shoes. The next morning, as I lay in bed and my wife came in to tell me she was leaving for work, I told her I was done. I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.
Since then I have done some shorter runs. Just the other day we went to the mountains, where it is cooler, to try and do a long hike, since I am already signed up for the North Country Run again (I can’t live with that DNF). Since I have fourteen hours, I figured I could walk it. But my ‘long hike’ turned out to be only nine miles - not really good enough (in my book) to be ready for 26.2. I also am signed up for Pocatello again to try to redeem myself from last year and I also have the carry-over for Little Grand Canyon - which has no time limit. We’ll see what happens. Will I finish one, two, or all three of them? I don’t know, but I’m not very confident at this point.
To this day, 10 months after the surgery, the hip isn’t right. It’s difficult to bring my right leg up to wash my feet or tie my shoes. The flexibility isn’t what it was even before the surgery and there is still discomfort there (it is a different type of discomfort, but it is still present). I wake up with my hip stiff and painful.
I have often told hurting runners during marathons that there is no race so important that you injure yourself. I guess I need to listen to my own advice and my body. I know I have to hang up my shoes at some point. We all do. The question is: do we do it by choice or is it decided for us.
P.S., It’s now August 25 and I just completed the North Country Run in 9:39. We’ll see what next weekend in Pocatello brings (besides 85 degree heat).
P.P.S., I ran the first half of Pocatello in 2:39, did some slower jogging to mile 16 and then pretty much walked the rest of the way. The result: 6:26 and best of all, I beat the sag wagon.
P.P.P.S., Little Grand Canyon was beautiful. I want to go back some day just to camp and hike there. The day was hot, dry, and dusty. Since there was no time limit and my doctor has instructed me to avoid impact as much as possible, I walked the vast majority of the course. But I finished in 7:31.
Follow-up: It is now the day after Route 66. I have completed 9 marathons since the surgery and yesterday broke 6 hours for the first time since the surgery. My new normal is to view all my times in terms of post-surgery. It was kind of nice to have a new (post-surgery) PR. I have 6 more races and then must retire from distance running. The orthopedic surgeon had told me that if I continued to run marathons, the next surgery will be a full hip replacement. Rehabbing the arthroscopic surgery was bad enough, I definitely do not want to go through rehab for a hip replacement. So the Chicago Marathon in October 2013 will be bittersweet. It was my first marathon, it will also be my last marathon, my 100th marathon, and the completion of the 2nd time around the states. Sometimes reality slaps you in the back of the head to get your attention, which is no fun. But it will be time to hang up the shoes.
I’ve done a couple of sprint triathlons and really enjoyed them. I’ve threatened my wife that I want to do one in every state. She’s not going for it. Maybe century rides . . .