When everything hurts, a reminder why

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I’m not really a Cubs fan, this hat is a reminder of why I’m out here.

Last week, my adductor and hammy were sore.

Sunday during my long run, my hip got tired and tight.

Yesterday when I started my recovery jog, my left knee was screaming at me.

Sometimes my left foot hurts, sometimes it doesn’t.

Ah, marathon training when you are old and broken is a lot of fun.

I kid, sort of. I actually am enjoying training for the Chicago Marathon. I like pushing my body to see what I can get out of it. I feel better when I’m able to get out and run miles. I look forward to doing the work, chasing a goal, trying to get the best out of myself.

That is not to say it is easy. I feel like I’m constantly fighting one injury or another. My knees (specifically my left knee). My hip. My adductor/hammy. Something always hurts. Usually more than one thing hurts.

And I’m at the point in training, running nearly 50 miles a week (which isn’t a ton to some people but is huge mileage for me, especially after spending 2018 just trying to get to a point where I could run on a regular basis) with a workout and a long run, that I’m tired and hungry pretty much all the time.

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Just out here training for Chicago, and everything hurts.

It’s hard not to get discouraged. As I limped around the office last night, my left knee sore and barking with every step, I wondered if I am really capable of getting through the next 38 days of training for the Chicago Marathon. I questioned whether or not I’ll be able to make it through those 26.2 miles at the type of effort I hope to put in on Oct. 13 without pushing my body to the point of no return. I really want Chicago to go well. I really don’t want to be limping somewhere in the middle of the Windy City with another 13 miles to the finish line.

My answer to this is to remember why I’m doing this. I choose to go through this and I want to do this for all of those reasons I mentioned above. The aches and pains are the price I pay for training for a marathon in a 45-year-old body broken down by years of not taking care of myself. A body broken and bruised by the occasional burst of activity on the baseball field or basketball court or football field (touch football only) in my 30s, between long bouts of sitting on my ass eating Doritos, donuts and pounding PBR.

I don’t want to sound like it’s all gloom and doom or that everything is awesome. Neither is exactly the case. It’s somewhere in between those two things. I hurt. My body hurts. But I ran 17 miles on Sunday morning and that was glorious. Kind of painful, but glorious nonetheless.

So when my left knee is really bothering me (like it is this morning) or my hip gets kind of sore, or I just don’t want to go for a run, I’ll remind myself of why I’m doing this. I’ll tell myself to get out of bed and do my physical therapy, to stretch and to roll. I’ve done better this training block doing the little things to stay healthy but I can always do more.

Things are going to hurt, that is probably unavoidable for me at this point. However, if I continue to be smart and do the work I need to do, I can push myself to be better, to chase goals, and to enjoy what I am doing.

This is what I choose to do. I want to do this.

And sometimes, that is going to hurt.

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