Marato Borriol 2017...so close yet so far!

January 2016 I was told that due to the severity of my knee fracture, I may not be able to compete at trail running again.

December 2016 I received an unexpected Email from Lluis, race director of Marato Borriol:

"Hi Sara
How are you? I hope you are fine.
I'm Lluis, the MABO race director. I write to invite to come here again. I would like see you to run again in Borriol. We can offer a free race registration and accommodation.

Best Wishes, Lluis."

A bit of context: in 2015 I came 3rd lady at MABO. I had applied to run the race late, but Lluis and his team were kind enough to let me run when they looked at my previous performances and saw that I would be racing. I had entered MABO in 2015 for two reasons; One was to increase my experience of mountain racing prior to the World Trail Championships. The second was quite simply as a birthday present to myself. I'm not the kind of person who likes to go out and party hard. A weekend of exploring a part of the world I had never visited before and the change to run around in some new and exciting places is a much more appealing birthday celebration to me. (In fact, my love of endurance running first started when I ran the Jurassic Coast Challenge in 2013 in celebration of my 30th birthday. 3 marathons, 3 days, finishing in Poole, the town in which I was born.)

I was really keen to go back and run MABO again, I had such fond memories of this race, the place, the people, the atmosphere. And it would also be a brilliant opportunity for me to compare my post- to pre-accident performance. But first, there was something I needed to get off my chest....well, off my knee really.

I emailed back and explained to Lluis what had happened to me in the past year, about my accident and how I was waiting for my final operation, and my performance may not be anything like my previous level. He was really understanding, and told me to let him know whenever I could and there would always be a place for me in the race.

Late December 2016 I finally got a date for my operation: 11th of January. That gave me 2 months to recover and get fit in time for MABO. YES, I could do this!! I emailed Lluis and let him know. His reply:

"It's a good notice!"

So 11/1/17 I had my metalwork removed.

                                          Post-op...right before I threw up all over my Dad!

Within 2 weeks I was back on the static bike, aquajogging, elliptical trainer and weights, weights, weights...I was GOING TO MABO! And I was going to do my absolute best. My leg started to work properly for the first time since my fracture, my running pace had improved, my gait was normalising. My 5km time went from 23mins to 21mins 20 secs, just because of the metal removal.

It was just that little aspect of running downhill that was still giving me problems. But I worked at that, I worked so hard! Technical terrain was difficult, but it was still better than pre-op. I was confident that I wouldn't be faced with a repeat of the Mourne Skyline, where I had to take every decent sitting down, sliding down the slopes on my arse because my knee just couldn't handle them.

2 months of training, and I was as ready as I could be at this stage. I had, in my head, set a goal of 5 hrs. Given that my time in 2015 was 5hrs 6 mins, this was optimistic to say the least. But my newfound pace was making me feel invincible!

I travalled to Spain a few day before the race, to give me time to adjust to the climate. Unlike my old attitude to races, where I'd just turn up and have fun, taking my fitness for granted, I was strict with myself leading up to MABO 2017. My diet was good, no alcohol for a week before the race, I tapered (something I NEVER used to do!). I spent the day before the race lurching between excitement at being able to race again, and fear of not being able to complete my mission: to run as my 'old self'. Pre-accident Sarah. This was fear was alleviated a little when Lluis asked me to answer questions for an audience as part of the 'Front runners' line-up. I felt like a bit of a fraud, sitting with the amazing men and women who were in contention to win the race. In particular, Gemma Arenas, the female course record holder. But it was good to be able to explain my story a little and to meet more of the lovely MABO crew.

Race morning.
Lluis had been kind enough to let me stay in his flat while I was in Borriol. I heard his alarm go off at 4:30am. Mine was set for 5:30am. But I had been awake most of the night anyway.

I drank coffee. Lots of coffee. I wandered up to the race start, and the town was already fully awake, the cafes were open, runners milling everywhere. I had another 2 coffees. The Spanish make an espresso to rival the Italians!

We filtered into the staring area, and I tried to find a good spot. Not too far forwards; I didn't want to be caught in the inevitable crazy racing sprint-start. But not too far back; I knew that the trail became singe file pretty quickly and I didn't want to be stuck behind slower runners. I was surprised to see a lot of female runners pushing forward into the front ranks. But then, this was the Spanish Skyrunning champs and there were a lot of contenders for the podium.

A count down from 5 and we were off. Inevitably too fast for my ultra-runner legs, but I didn't want to lose my place on the climb, so I pushed on until we hit trail. Suddenly the air was filled with the scent of rosemary and lavender, crushed beneath our feet. That jolted me back to myself. This was what I had come here for, the experience! Suddenly the fear and doubt were gone, and I was simply running. I didn't have to think about my knee, my lack of ability. 1 year ago they told me I might not run again...and here I was. LIVING the trail.

Despite trying to stay fairly far forward I was soon caught in the inevitable conga line as the trail narrowed. The first climb was real hands and knees stuff, but slowed by sheer volume of people. After about 30 minutes of shuffling the trail opened out and I was able to move forwards at my own pace. I felt pretty good, and the initial decents were all easily runnable. I just enjoyed the feeling of pushing myself where I couldn't before. I allowed myself to breath hard and to really push my legs in a way I just couldn't while the metal had been in my knee.

After about 13 miles we hit the first really technical section, and I inevitably slowed. I just can't bounce off things with any confidence like I used to . I was passed by a few people I had previously overtaken. I found this really frustrating. The problem is, I can't run down anything technical without concentrating really hard. Every footfall has to be planned, as I lack the proprioception in my right leg to run without thought. Add to that the frequent stops to let people pass me, and pretty soon I was feeling mentally exhausted. I was really glad of the next long climb to allow myself some time to recover and not to have to concentrate for a bit! From that point on it was every down that became more and more exhausting, whilst every climb gave me the chance to move forward, push my lungs and recover mentally.

As we hit the ropes section a guy shouted to me that I was in 8th place. Damn! I had been really hoping that I was further up than that. But I knew where I was losing time. I was running without a watch so had no concept of the time that had passed, but I could feel myself losing out on the decents. I pushed hard up the next couple of climbs and overtook a whole bunch of people including one girl. All I could do was keep on pushing up and then try my hardest to keep momentum going down. This was getting trickier and trickier as my knee was really starting to swell and stiffen. At the top of the final climb someone said to me 'hey, it's all downhill from here!'...like that was a good thing! I managed to get down the final hill, when I caught another girl at the bottom. Once we were off the decent my legs picked up and I surged forward, taking her and nearly catching another girl in front as we rounded the corner to the finish.

I looked up at the clock....5 hours 10 minutes exactly. That was such a bitter-sweet time. I knew that if it hadn't been for my knee I could have hit the sub-5 hour time I had hoped for. But, on the other hand, that was only 4 minutes slower than my time in 2015, before my fracture!

So that was it. The run was...amazing. Those climbs, the views, the smells and the overwhelming friendliness of the MABO volunteers and crew! Sure, I was frustrated by my continuing inability due to my knee, but this race marked my first serious effort to perform. And I feel that, despite everything, I did perform. Tentatively, and still uncertain of my ability, but I could have continued on past 26 miles. I could have raced on to 50, and who knows, I may have continued to overtake people as my endurance held out where my knee was failing.

Knowing your weaknesses helps you to find your strength. And when someone tells you that you won't be able to do something, don't take their word for it. Try it for yourself. They could well be wrong.

In anno patellae

1 year ago today I underwent my second fixation for a comminuted patella fracture, having fractured initially on 30/1/16, and then re-fractured on 1/3/16. The bone was in bits, the surgeons were pessimistic about my chances of being able to run again.

Between that fixation and 1/1/17 I have managed to run several parkruns, a few marathons, complete 2 ultras and cover significant distance in other races before having to stop (in the Ridgeway challenge I managed 45 miles and 24hrs de Ploeren I managed 65 miles)

6 weeks ago I had my metalwork removed.

Since then, and having also suffered from a surgical wound infection during the recovery phase, I have managed to get back to training, running with an ease I though would never be possible for me again since my fracture. My leg WORKS now.

I am accompanied by pain at every step, but the interesting thing about pain is that when you know the cause, it can be a lot easier to work with.

I still don't know what my future holds in terms of running. But it's looking a hell of a lot brighter than this time last year.

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me along this journey. You have no idea what each kind and positive word has meant to me. I hope to continue to do you proud.

Catharsis

This is a completely non-constructive and angry blog entry written with the sole intent of allowing me to vent my feelings.

6 months ago I underwent my second fixation. I had a total of 2.5 months non-weight bearing and 4 months non-running. I lost near 95% of my right quad strength. And yet, I look at that time off running...only 4 months....and expect my body to be able to pick up where we left off. Oh, sure, I'd have lost a bit of CV fitness but that would be easy to build up. I know other people who've had 4 months off with knee injury and they've got back to it with no problems.

I've been comparing myself to other people. About the same time as I did my knee, Emelie Fosberg tore her ACL. She's just made an amazing comeback, winning races already. Last year Jo Meek had several months off with injury, and she was winning marathons by the autumn. Why can't I do the same?

Logic tells me it's because of the difference in injury. Logic tells me that I am still functioning on 1.5 legs rather than 2. Logic tells me that it's going to be a long process, and that I need to be patient. It was a fracture, my whole quadriceps mechanism was disrupted, I lost most of the muscle in my right leg.

But I've had enough of logic and patience. I want to be back where I was, going into races to win, running like I'm flying. And I want it now!

So I signed up for the Ridgeway Challenge 86 mile ultramarathon. It was a stupid thing to do, but I had the tantalising memory of my wonderful run at Race to the Stones 2015 in my mind, that memory of just sailing along. I wanted that SO badly.

I didn't get it. I made it to 44 miles, most of it thoroughly miserable at my legs wouldn't allow me to sail. The 'achievable' 10 min mile pace made me exhausted. As my left leg got tired the pain in my right knee got worse and worse and my gait became more and more of a lurch. At 42 miles I had to walk through exhaustion and pain. At 44 miles I stopped. I felt nothing like the old me. Now the races I had started to plan for in the next year seem like a distant and unobtainable goal.

I'm angry. I shouldn't be in this position. I think part of the problem is the bubbling underlying helplessness I feel. Then the anger of the mechanism of injury sets in. I want to scream at the person who did this to me. Shake her and make her see how much mental trauma she's caused me. My entire life has veered off path because of this. Just because of her carelessness.

Then I remember, it's just a knee injury. It's just running. Other people have to deal with so much worse. And I feel overwhelming guilt for being so selfish and childish.

And I go back to my trainers.
And I try again.

Running broken

Once again I've looked back at my blog and realised how long it's been since I updated things. The blog is proving to be really useful to me these days, as I'm back running, but the frustration of how much fitness and endurance I've lost can be overwhelming, so it's really useful to look back and see how far I've come.

Yes, I'm running again. And I have been since the 2nd of June. That was the date of my 3 month follow-up with my consultant. That day I had an x-ray, and, feeling very nervous (I'd been spending a lot of time in the gym and the niggling thought of 'what if I've damaged the fixation' was always at the back of my mind) I asked him if my knee was up to running yet. He pulled a face and told me not to do anything stupid (yeah, as if!!). Later that evening I ran 0.5 of a mile, lurching to one side like a drunk as my right leg had minimal proprioception or strength. It felt so good. Within a week I was back up to one mile. It's painful, always painful, but the pain would never get any worse during a run. Night time was a different matter, and my sleep was now constantly disturbed by a feeling I can only liken to toothache in the knee. Now, 2 months on and that is still the case. I'm hoping that this is partly to do with the metalwork, and that the pain will ease off a lot when this is taken out.

Now I'm back up to running most days, and so far I've managed a max of 18 miles. The thing I'm struggling most with is how SLOW I've become! I used to breeze along at 8 minute mile pace comfortably for a good 20 mile run. That is now a sprint pace that I can maintain for around half a mile before my legs just give up. And hills, I used to sail up a nice hill! Now I can just about plod to the top before I have to stop and let the feeling come back into my legs. And the weird thing is, it's my good leg that gives up first! I went running with Jason and he noticed that my gait was still slightly uneven. I can only assume that this is putting extra stress on my left knee and quad. Anyway, it's intensely frustrating, and for the time being I've given up running with any form of timekeeping or GPS due to the despair I feel when I check my time and find out how slow it is. I work hard, I feel out of breath, my lungs burning and sick to my stomach, and I'm just about hitting a 7mph pace, and for a second I'm disgusted with my body.

It's been hard watching other people I know do races and achieve such amazing things. I've watched races go by, seen course record get broken, seen friends selected to the GB team. Meanwhile I can just about manage my old routes without stopping every mile to rest.

So, I read my blog the other night. And I counted back and realised that it's only been 5 months since my second op and only 3 months since my brace came off. 3 months!!!! I remember the despair, the feeling of loss, the terrifying unknown before me when I lay in ED and they told me just how smashed up my knee was. And now, I'm out running EVERY DAY! I don't think I could have anticipated this back then, and I feel incredibly lucky that everything is actually going so well! When it first happened, I read about the severity of my injury, the biomechanics, the healing process and long term functional limitations and I was prepared to never be able to run properly again. I know that what I should be doing is counting my blessings every single second.

So, here I am, counting my blessings.
If you're reading this, then you're probably one of them.

Dear diary

As I sit here, 3kg ankle weight on my leg, straight-leg raising and munching on a protein bar, I can't believe it's been so long since I last wrote a post.
So much has happened. I'm now walking, brace-free and slowly regaining muscle in my quad. I'm able to swim again and I have the flexion to manage the bike. I've spent more time on the elliptical trainer in the past 4 weeks than I ever wished to experience.

So, as I've been so remiss in posting updates about my experience, here is a brief diary.

14th of April. 6 week follow-up. Consultant said I could start fully weight bearing. I punched the air in excitement and nearly told him that I loved him...embarrassing considering that I used to work for the orthopaedic department. I went for a walk around the hospital. Just because I could. I spent the rest of the day with mum, walking around with both crutches, occasionally reducing down to one crutch whilst shouting 'mum, mum look at me!!' Must of been like having a toddler again for her! When I got home, I made cup after cup of tea and carried them around the house, just because I could.

15th of April. Went to the gym with both legs working. Got on the elliptical trainer. Got off again. Got back on again. Got off again. Finally got on and did 5 minutes. It felt weird and naughty. Stuck to the rowing machine for the rest of the week.

17th of April. Went for a WALK on the COASTPATH with my dad. Still using both crutches, but I felt like I was free.

18th of April. Got Jase to drop me off 2 miles before work and walked the rest of the way in.

17th April. Went for a proper off-road walk around one of my shorter running routes. Cried a lot.

22-24th of April. Did my first full weekend on call. I can't describe how wonderful it felt to be doing clinical work again. I love my job.

25th of April. My brace developed a squeak. I don't think they're designed to do quite as much as I'd been doing with it. It was due to be off completetly on the 28th, so I decided to ditch it a couple of days early. I was finally BRACE FREE!! Had my first physio appointment, he gave me a load of exercises to help develop my quad. It wasn't until this appointment that I realised how little function I had in this leg. I could balance on it for about 5 seconds, but it was like I was standing on a wobble-board I was so unsteady.

26th of April. Got back in the pool. Swimming was fairly alright really, as I don't use my legs a lot anyway. Managed 1km without too much of a problem.

28th of April. Went for my first walk without a brace. Decided (probably stupidly) to leave my crutches at home and only use walking poles. And to wear a 10kg weighted pack. 7 miles later and I thought my leg was going to drop off.

30th of April. This was the weekend that I should have been up in Scotland running the Hoka Highland Fling for the GB trail team selection. It was also the weekend of the TP100, and someone running it beat my previous centurion 100 record of 16hrs 13 minutes with a new record of 16 hours. I spent a lot of this weekend in tears.

7th of May. Went for a row out in the gig followed by a swim in the sea. All the while, all I could do was stare at the coastpath and wish that I was running it.

11th of May. Went out on my mountain bike for the first time. It felt great to be outside, but I hurt a lot afterwards. Realised how much further I had to go with this rehab lark.

It's been an emotional rollercoaster, punctuated with highs as I progress on to new things and lows as I inevitably do too much and my knee starts to hurt like hell. When I get pain, I start to despair and feel like I'll never run again. Sometimes I end up in a panic that I've caused further damage. I have a whole host of caring friends and family telling me to take it easy. If only it was that simple. I'm still having to make use of my designated sad time to help me deal with this.

So, onwards. For now I'm mainly focusing on trying to regain muscle and function. I'm back to swimming a lot as it's the only exercise I can really throw myself into without the fear of damage.

It's a long long road.

Big gym

It's been a busy week, which is brilliant, makes time pass so much faster! I'm now 3 weeks from my second operation with only 3 weeks to go until (hopefully) I can start rehab!!

Monday, I went back to work, for the second time. I was so happy to be back again, I was really worried that after my re-fracture they wouldn't let me back on crutches. It felt great to be back again (again!). Friendly faces, hugs from friends and colleagues, feeling like I had purpose. Moving around in the hospital still fills me with a lot of anxiety, and so I'm lucky to be allowed to stay in one place doing discharge paperwork.

Tuesday was my birthday. I had been a bit worried about this, as every year since I turned 30 I've done a race to mark my birthday. I was prepared to feel quite sad this year. However, I had promised myself that I would enjoy the day the best I could, and try not to worry! This started with me having chocolate cake in bed at 5:30am. I've been trying to go easy on cake since this accident happened. For the past few years I've taken for granted the fact that my daily calorie expenditure is such that I can eat anything I like. Without this to fall back on I've been far stricter with my diet. But, it was my birthday, so I was going to eat whatever the hell I wanted with no guilt. And I did, I really did!! The day finished with a meal at 15 with Jason and my Mum and Dad. It was wonderful! If I'm honest, I think I probably enjoyed all the food even more than usual because it was such a treat now that I'm being more careful of what I eat!

And, to top off a fantastic birthday week, on Thursday morning at 6:30am (which was our normal routine) Jason took me to the gym. I cannot express my excitement. I've been regularly going to the gym in the morning before work for the past 4 years, so I know a lot of the other regulars. Jason had told a lot of them about my accident, so I didn't have to go through the story again and again, I just got loads of good wishes and people saying how amazing it was that I was going to the gym on one leg which made me feel really good about myself. I heard a really encouraging story from one guy there who was once told after a back injury that he would never run again and has since run a 2:40 marathon. All these little bits of positivity help me stay focused on recovery and make me realise that a lot of this will be about what I make of it. I know my patella is rogered. I know the articular surface is messed up and that I'll get problems with arthritis. I know that there were a few bits of it that were so smashed that they had to be removed or just left with no fixation because they were too small to fix. But I also know that every race I've run in the past year, I've run with screaming pain in my back and right hamstring, pain which I have just learned to put up with. If I can put up with that, then I can also put up with whatever pain I'm left with when this knee is healed. For me, pain is part of endurance running, and something to expect and deal with mentally.

In the gym I put one-legged erging to the test. The trick is to have a towel under your bad foot which lets it slide along the floor with no resistance. Then you can just ignore this leg, letting it slide back and forward whilst you row with your good leg, arms and torso. I  imagine it's probably the most 'whole-body' workout that you can get whilst on one leg. I can manage this for about 30 minutes before my left leg starts to really cramp up from the intense work and unaccustomed position.  After this I spent some time playing with the hand cycle in the gym which is a really massive version of my one at home, and gives a really good high intensity workout.
I could have stayed in the gym playing on stuff all day, I finally felt like I was at least a fraction of the athlete I was before this happened. I went back on the Friday for more!

So, now I know what's possible, I'll see you down the gym!

Angels without wings.

2016 has not been a good year for me so far. I'm hoping that I've paid my dues to whatever aspect of fate I owe, my run of bad luck is over and I can just get on with my life now. I suppose none of us knows what fate has in store for us. Despite that fact that I participate in relatively extreme sports I never saw myself sustaining an injury that would have such an impact on my life.

On the other hand, I am very lucky. Last week in Plymouth a cyclist the same age as me was killed by a dangerous driver. I know from the state of my bike, cycle helmet and patella that if I had landed differently I could have sustained far more serious injuries. My head smashed the drivers windscreen as I went over her bonnet and I escaped with whiplash alone, not even a concussion. Jason frequently reminds me how different that call he received from the police could have been...

Counting my blessings helps me through the difficult periods, the days that I cry and cry and just long to put on my trainers and run out of the front door. If I can just bear this period of recovery, then I will be able to get back to my normal life. Even if that no longer includes competitive running, there is so much that I can do. Had I landed differently during the accident then I might not have had that option.

But counting my blessings  alone is not what is getting me through this. It's you. Whoever you are, reading this, giving me positive input no matter how small.

I am truly lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful people. From the moment that this injury occurred I have had people beside me, supporting me, holding me up when I'm down. My wonderful parents; Dad who has put up with my constant questioning about whether he thinks the bone is healing properly, Mum who has looked after me as if I was 10 again, driving me to appointments and caring for me like only a mother could. My ever-patient husband who has dealt with my frequent and dramatic mood swings, my fears and my pain.

And my amazing circle of friends, constantly giving me encouragement, wishing me well, offering to help me out wherever they can.  I have received such amazing quantities of love over the past few weeks. I don't think I could ever express what you have done for me, and the words 'thank you' just seem so inadequate.

So, this blog post is by way of a 'thank you' card to each and every one of you. It's not enough, and no amount of thanks ever could be, but it'll have to do.