You play, you pay

So, as I mentioned, the hubby and I were headed to Vegas to participate in a running event over the past weekend.  He was signed up for the 100 miler and I was signed up for the 24 hour.  This race took place on a 2.38 mile loop in Cornerstone Park. I like doing races like this one because they allow me to move at my own pace and stop and rest when I need to.  Plus, you're never more than however long the loop is from the aid station!  For someone like me, who needs to be able to stop and sit frequently, it's about the only way to successfully do a race that's more than 5-10k (3.1-6.2 miles).  That being said, I'm still trying to find the balance of how far and how fast I can go without paying for it for days afterwards.  There's definitely a learning curve involved with the fibromyalgia.

Hubby and I crossing paths during the race.  A passing friend offered to take this picture of the two of us. I do regret I didn't get any pictures wearing the giant sombrero he plopped on my head at one point and that I wore for almost an entire lap.

My older sister has told me, more than once, that she worries about me when I do these kinds of things.  She worries about how hard it is on my body and whether or not I should find a gentler form of exercise.  As I tell her, I'm not sure how much gentler than walking I can go!  All the experts seem to agree that mild exercise is not only ideal but necessary to help manage fibromyalgia pain.  They recommend working up to around 30 minutes, 3-4 days a week, on non-successive days.  Walking is perfect.  Swimming is also good, provided that it's done in a warm enough pool since cool/cold water makes your muscles tense up which tends to intensify pain levels.

During a race like the one this past weekend, I try to remind myself that *I* know why I'm sitting in my chair after every lap, with my feet up.  It really shouldn't matter if anyone else knows or what anyone else thinks.  Still, I admit that I feel like a slacker.  I mean, even when I'm out there I'm just walking.  And most of the time, these days, I'm not even walking particularly fast.  If I manage a sub-20 minute mile I'm doing good.  But I have found that if I *don't* stop, if I don't sit down and put my feet up (thank heavens for the spectacular zero gravity recliner that I got for Christmas.  It travels to races with me and totally saves me!), I pay for it.  I need to stop and sit even if it doesn't particularly feel like I need to stop and sit.  Because chances are really good that if I don't, by the time I finish that lap, I'm going to be in pain.

Me, kicking back in my chair during the race

So I'm learning, trying to be smart while still doing something I really enjoy doing with people I love doing it with.  What I learned over the weekend was that I probably should have taken longer breaks between laps.  And maybe I should have signed up for 12 hours rather than 24.  Because I had pretty much hit the wall after 12 hours.  I stopped for the night with 8 laps, 19.04 miles, completed at just a hair over 12 hours.  That last lap was increasingly painful.  I was having an issue with my knee which caused pain to radiate all the way up and down my left leg.  My neck hurt from holding my head up.  Essentially, everything hurt and I knew, before I was a half mile in, that it was going to be my last lap for at least a few hours.

I then spent the next hour trying to get myself comfortable in the car.  While it wasn't Iowa cold outside, it was cold enough that I didn't want to just hang out in my chair for the night.  I managed to actually get some sleep, waking up long enough to shift positions several times throughout the night. I was awake for good by about 7 am, needing to go to the bathroom.  However, I was pretty cozy under my blanket and going to the bathroom required 1) getting out of the car and out into the cold 2) finding something to put on my feet from the back of the car since I just had socks on and 3) walking to the nearby porta potties, always a pleasant experience.  So I put it off as long as I possibly could.

At this point, I knew that the race was done for me.  My 24 hours was ending at 9 am and I was in enough pain to know that going out for even one more lap would not be a smart thing to do.  There was a part of me that was disappointed I'd only gotten 19 miles in, in spite of the fact that I went in with no goals.  It felt like I should have been able to do more, even in the 12 hours or so I'd actively spent on the course.  I know that that's the fibro's fault but it still sucks and I don't like it.  It feels like I'm moving backwards instead of forward.  I know that this is the nature of this condition but nothing says I have to like it. It's frustrating to not be able to push yourself too hard, to not be able to go all out and go beyond your perceived limits.  Inside, I still feel like I should have been able to do an easy marathon, at the very least, or a 50k in the time that I had.

There was a quote out on the course this weekend:
'Success is a little like wrestling a gorilla. 
You don't quit when you're tired. 
You quit when the gorilla is tired.' 
- Robert Strauss

 I kind of feel like fibro is the gorilla that I wrestle. The problem is, it's a gorilla that never seems to get tired.  So I'm feeling a little bit like success is in not letting the gorilla win.  Success is in continuing to wrestle that gorilla even when you want to give up.  Success is continuing to register for races like this one, even knowing that I'll be slower and won't be able to go as far as I'd maybe like and that I might have to stop before I'd really like to.  Success is remembering this:

This is my new philosophy.  It goes well with my race mantra, which I picked up from my husband after his first ultra:  Relentless Forward Motion.  Just keep moving forward.  As long as you keep doing that, it's all good.

I might not have gone as far as I'd have liked.  I certainly didn't go fast.  I hurt more than I would have preferred.  But I spent time with great friends doing something I enjoy.  And, at the end of the day, I ended up with this nice, shiny medal! And, who knows, I may have had just as much pain over the next few days whether I'd done the race or not.  So maybe the gorilla didn't win after all.