Thumping along with the excited desperation of the last 300 meters of a marathon, my body is in a state of sensory overload and numbness; the fanatical cheering of the crowd temporarily drowns out the screams at each step from my calves and 19 mile-mature blister. Rounding a final turn I see the finish... and the 50 meter hill -- looks like a wall -- just before it. Instantly, I feel my entire body demand more oxygen and energy from already depleted stores, yet, somehow, I make it to the top before I have time to wonder how I'll make it there. With the final clock in sight, I notice that I will, in fact, be crossing the line...
How did I do that?
Although many significant factors played into such a successful race, I believe that my discerning approach to "pain as a signal" was the critical piece for my body that day. This being my third marathon, I ate right, trained and tapered properly, slept well, and was relaxed. I also had inflammation at the nerve bundle in the arch of my right foot and by mile 7 had developed a non-trivial blister.
PAIN AS A SIGNAL
Presented with pain in one's foot on each step, I sense that most people would have one or two immediate reactions: 1) stopping the activity or 2) ignoring the pain as orthogonal to the goal and persisting onward. I believe that either immediate reaction is not doing your body or your goals justice. Consider that the sensation you are feeling is merely a signal you can use as additional information when making decisions. Therefore, the healthy question is not about whether or not there is pain, but "What is the signal telling me and what is the underlying issue?". Starting there you can begin to look at whether or not you really should stop (even if you would rather keep going) or maybe you could push through the discomfort.
During the marathon, I felt intense sensations from my right foot as the blister developed and was aggravated. Typically, one might put less pressure on the chaffed foot to relieve the pain per step. However, an altered stride -- a limp -- would almost definitely lead to intense injury over the duration of an endurance race. Therefore, I chose to endure the "pain" of each step in order to prevent long term injury. I consciously chose to continue the race without limping, while suffering the growing blister, knowing that it would heal without issue over a few days.
I would love to see the word "pain" taken out of our language since it would force us to better describe what we're really sensing without the easy use of an overly generalized blanket statement. According to Mirriam Webster,
pain is "a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action." You touch a hot pan and jerk your hand away. Your bare feet step on a sharp object and immediately you lighten the weight on that foot. These are healthy and safe reactions.
During a race, however, it is rare that I'm entirely comfortable. It's a matter of listening to all of the signals and consciously choosing a response (instead of immediate reactions) appropriate to the simuli. My ultimate goal is to be healthy -- mentally, physically, and socially -- and so I have created a few predetermined thresholds for how to make decisions about pain while racing.
- If I am limping and not "close to the finish", I will find the next best place to stop.
- If the weather is such that I could suffer permanent injury by continuing (too hot: dehydration, too cold: hypothermia, etc...), then I will find the next best place to stop.
- If I feel something "funny" with my heart or other vital organs, I will find the next best place to stop and maybe seek medical attention.
Asking the question "Should I stop?" takes too much emotional energy to repeat often. I have trained myself to just keep going without question, unless one of those above thresholds has been crossed. During a very long endurance event I will grant myself that question one to three times as a check in, but otherwise trust myself to listen to the right signals.
I race to find my limit for that day; I leave every ounce of effort on the course... often well before the finish. Running is only 30% about your legs. As I get older, I keep improving my race times significantly from a better attitude, not just a faster body. Consciously, I choose to listen to the signals my body is sending so I can have the best race possible.
... and I came across the line at a blazing pace, with an 8-minute PR at 2:54:12. Two weeks later, my blister is merely a visible reminder of the fading memory of its brief, but intense, pain. My legs are still a bit sluggish, but I'm still enjoying the pride in having run a smart, hard race.
LOGS +++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRAINING: 18, 15, 19, 13, x, 26
The weeks prior, I did long runs as detailed in the title of this section. I raced the 13 (BAA Half Marathon) and the 26 is the Marine Corps Marathon. I had inflammation in my right arch by a nerve bundle for two weeks prior to the marathon, so I did hardly any running. It was not Plantar Fascitis, as determined by a doctor.
NUTRITION
The day before, I was drinking a bit of water with salt and sugar and eating a variety of healthy veggies, meats, and carbs. Morning of the marathon, I ate some bread + pb at 5:30am. I sipped Chia seeds in water up until the start (12oz). During the race, at each water stop, I drank 1-2 teeny cups of water and Gatorade Endurace and then about mile 16 I also "sipped" on one Clif Shot with 25mg caffeine.
WEEKEND ATTITUDE
Relaxed. I didn't stress much about it.
FORM
Chi
No limp
"I would happily suffer that blister for a 2:54:12!" - a friend
