When I first decided to run the marathon, it was shortly after my half-marathon in Richmond. I had hit a wall at mile 9, and I hadn't been pleased with my late-season long run performances. I took that dissatisfaction as incentive and motivation to aspire to a greater challenge. Perhaps I was bored, or my body needed a greater challenge. I thought my mental state was my greatest challenge.
During the break between training seasons, I had some great runs and some hard runs. I worked on my cadence, trying to get my feet to fall at 180 bpm, which is supposed to be an ideal cadence for building speed and avoiding injury. For a few runs, I ran 2.5 miles, rested for 2-3 minutes, then completed another 2.5. My pace was good, and I chalked up my tiredness at the halfway point to the cadence run.
January came, and I went on a few 3-6 mile runs, which didn't feel great. I became increasingly concerned about my mental strength and how I would be able to endure a marathon when my mind couldn't handle 6 miles. On several 6 mile runs, I struggled and found myself needing to walk halfway through.
Then, a few weeks ago, I decided it was time to pull out the heart rate monitor that came with my Garmin. On an easy three mile run, running less than 11:00 min/miles, I was shocked. My heart rate quickly climbed into the 170s... then the 180s.... and hovered for much of the run around 195. And I felt horrible. Later in the day after my run, I searched online for some information on what a healthy heart rate should be, and I realized mine was far too high for the effort I was attempting.
Suddenly pieces started coming together. The palpitations I'd been experiencing in the fall had led me to my doctor in October. At that time, we couldn't find an obvious problem, and he told me to look for signs of decreased athletic performance, faintness, and chest pain.
It was only when I had tangible proof--my heart rate--that I realized something was truly not right. I made an appointment for the next day. It was incredibly stressful piecing everything together for my doctor. The hard long runs in the fall. The time I very nearly passed out at church after a run, when I couldn't catch my breath with the singing we were doing and had to put my head between my knees. The high heart rate. The walking halfway through 6 mile runs. I managed to keep it together, but barely. It was incredibly difficult to admit that there was something wrong.
I am not scared now. My doctor has given me orders that I may continue to run--on the conditions that I do not run alone, and that I do not stress myself further with hill or speed workouts. I know deep in my bones that this nothing to be scared of, and something that can and will be treated.
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| My Zio Patch |
I continue to run with my group and wear a heart rate monitor, and I'm backing down when my heart rate lingers in the 180s, trying to keep in the 160s-170s, although that requires a very slow pace for me of 12:00 min/miles or slower.
Hopefully by the end of February we will have some answers. My biggest fear now is that the monitor won't detect anything, or won't help us pinpoint the issue. In a strange way, my symptoms are comforting me now and reminding me that this isn't normal, that I'm not crazy! And so I breathe a sigh of relief when my heart pounds and I can press the button, as affirmation.
In a way, I am comforted to know that my struggles in the fall weren't purely mental. That gives me hope for the marathon.
Regardless of what happens, I know I can run a half-marathon, even if it's not a PR. Ideally, we will be able to treat the issue and I will be able to run in comfort once again. I have faith that it will be okay.
And so my journey to 26.2 continues. One step, one heartbeat, at a time.
