Why is This Happening?

By Lori Giesey

In March of 2013, I felt like I was at the top of my health game. I had been training since mid-December for my first full marathon and had knocked a full minute off my estimated pace time.

With the race only four weeks away, I was feeling pretty confident that I had prepared myself to run my best race ever. Little did I know that just one week later, everything would change.

After an amazing twenty-mile training run, shower, and breakfast, I sat listening to an apostle speak at General Conference, when, suddenly, and without warning, I found myself being propelled off the couch by a sharp pain in my left leg. My left abductor had seized into a tight wad with no sign of releasing its savage grip. Hobbling around the room, I spent the next twenty minutes alternating between rubbing the muscle to calm it down and trying to “walk it out.”

When it finally released, all I could think about was how relieved I was that the next day was only a seven-mile, “easy” training run where I planned to keep the pace nice and slow. I was positive that I was going to be sore in the morning.

The next day, before the sun was up, I rolled out of bed, gingerly putting my feet on the ground to test the muscle’s residual anger level. Within the first few steps, I knew my prediction had come true. Hoping it would loosen up, I prepared and set off for my training run. The first two miles were tough, but as the muscle warmed up and stretched, it felt decent; by the time I had finished mile seven, I thought everything was going to be okay—until it wasn’t.

The following morning, that abductor was still not happy with me and as I tried to run the first couple of miles and “push through,” the pain became so intense that I instinctively knew this was not going to just “go away.” While walking home, I called the chiropractor’s office and was relieved to hear he just had a cancelation and had time for me in an hour. What a blessing from heaven.

After the adjustment, my chiropractor suggested I see the massage therapist to see if he could help. “Oh, and you might think about taking the next day or two off from training.”

I scoffed. “I’m three weeks out from my race. I cannot take time off now! Are you kidding me?” He just quietly turned and walked away.

Slow down… No way! And lose everything I have worked so hard for? This has to heal and now! I thought to myself as I hobbled out the door.

I did see the massage therapist who finished by putting kinesiology tape on the muscle to help hold it in place and told me to go home and try running a mile or two to test it out. I was in such conflict. My chiropractor was saying stay off of it and the massage therapist was giving me permission to test the waters.

At home, I laced up my running shoes, as my husband questioned where I was going.

“Out for a run,” I responded.

“Be careful,” he called after me.

I took off slowly out the door and down the street. It was tender, but I kept moving forward at a gentle pace. About three-quarters of a mile from home pain tore through my muscle and tears exploded from my eyes.

Oh No! What have I done!