Don't run with scissors

Or strep throat

If you haven’t seen or heard from me in a while, I’ve been running.

At the end of December, I mentioned to a friend that I was thinking about training for a half marathon. Within an hour, he sent me Hal Higdon’s Novice 1 Half Marathon training plan and suggested I aim for the Sleepy Hollow Half Marathon on March 25th. What he didn’t know: I had planned to be in the thinking stage for another 18 months—maybe forever.

I printed out the 12-week schedule and put it on our bulletin board. Within the day, my daughters, 16 and 12, were studying it and excitedly asking questions. NOW I HAD TO DO IT.

It was January, not the best time to be running outdoors in New York, but it all seemed manageable…at first. Two short runs during the week and then one long run on Saturdays plus two cross training days and two rest days. (I adjusted the schedule because Saturday was better for long runs than Sunday).

One of the things I love most is checking the boxes on to-do lists, so I LOVED x-ing out the little squares. I followed the plan unquestioningly. The schedule said, “6 mi run,” and even though I hadn’t run six continuous miles in 20 years, I did it.

During the first six weeks, I was fine. It was challenging to run 3x/week especially because I was still riding the Peloton and doing a little weight training. The other difficulty was running in the cold and dark at the end of the day (I hate running first thing in the morning, and daytime was out most of the time because of work), but I was in my comfort zone as far as length and intensity. No big deal, I thought. I got this.

Then, late February arrived. It rained on more than half of my run days. I actually love running in the rain when it’s warm. But when it’s in the 40s and dark, nope.

The other challenge was mental. All of a sudden, my “short” runs were always outside my comfort zone. I was regularly setting a new record for myself in terms of “longest run ever.” You’d think that I would have been triumphant, but I wasn’t.

I was scared.

Every Saturday morning during the second half of the training, I woke with a sense of dread. It was just plain hard for me to run that far and that long. Harder than I thought it was going to be. A lot of those mornings it was cold. And my body hurt. Not injury hurt, but sore, definitely. And sore all the time.

The long runs also made me inconveniently tired. I was knocked out on Saturdays (and often Sundays, too!) from pushing my body and mind in unfamiliar ways. No more going out on Saturday nights. Instead I fell asleep watching movies (I may never really understand Everything Everywhere All at Once because I slept through an hour in the middle) or put myself to bed at 8:30.

March 18th. The last long run arrived - 10 miles - and I drove to Sleepy Hollow to run on the race course. I felt strong, I felt excited, I felt a strange feeling in my throat.

The next day I was exhausted - no surprise there - and I laid down on the couch during coffee with friends. On Monday, I felt downright bad, but the schedule said to run four miles, so I did. By the time I got home, my throat hurt for real.

By Tuesday morning, I had to cancel all my meetings because I couldn’t talk for the pain. I made it through the day, even took my daughter to her checkup and asked her doctor to swab my throat for strep. “There’s no way,” she said. “You’re too congested for strep.”

I did not run the three miles on the schedule.

I barely slept that night, and on Wednesday, four days before the race, I went to urgent care.

Strep.

“I’ve been training for a half marathon,” I croaked. “Do you think I can still run on Saturday?”

The doctor was optimistic. “The antibiotics will kick in by tomorrow. You should be okay.”

And so after three days of antibiotics, I found myself on the starting line in Sleepy Hollow, chatting with a few other runners. “90% of the people here are training for Boston,” one woman said. “I’m going to run six miles after the race.”

I stared at her blankly. If I finished the race, it would be a miracle.

I did finish. It rained hard. It was 42 degrees. I had to walk miles 10 and 11. I was the thirstiest I’ve ever been from being sick and exhausted and I don’t know what.

My time was 2:52:37, which means my average mile pace was 13:11 (slower than I’d run the entire time I trained). I was 503/535 runners, 190/210 women, and 19/21 in my age group. I was not spectacular. I was relieved to be finished.

I’m not sure there’s anything to be learned from this story. Maybe something about checking your pride at the door when you do something for the first time, running your own race. Or, more importantly, try not to get really, really sick right before you’re about to do one of the most physically challenging things you’ve ever done.

The race plus strep plus not sleeping plus whatever other illness I had on top of strep that made me so congested knocked me out for three weeks. I haven’t run a single step since March 25th. When I finished the race I was pretty sure I would never run another step…period.

But I’ve been casually googling “half marathons near me.” I had lunch yesterday with the same friend who sent me the training schedule in the first place.

And you know, I’ve been thinking about training, again, for a half-marathon.