A Letter to My Podiatrist

I swore after I finished the marathon that I’d be sending a letter and a finish line photo to my podiatrist telling him just how wrong he was. I’ve been so swamped with work since the race that I haven’t had time to write it until today. It’s going in the mail on Monday. It was a very good, cathartic experience writing it. It’ll feel even better mailing it!

Dear Dr. _________, (Leaving name out for privacy reasons)
You probably don’t remember me, but you did surgery on my right foot on November 16, 2007. You had to rebuild my arch and lengthen my Achilles tendon as a result of an injury sustained in a 2006 car accident.

You told me that once my foot healed, I would be fine to do anything I wanted except run. You also said I’d be out of pain within 6 – 9 months of the surgery.

Exactly one year later I saw you for my final check-up. Everything had healed, but I was still in daily, excruciating pain. I had asked when it was going to stop, and you told me that I should have been better months before and the pain I was experiencing was all in my head. When I started to cry, you walked out of the office, and that was the last time I saw you.

I guess you were sick the day medical school taught that all human bodies are unique and can react differently to surgeries, illnesses and other traumas. I think you were also out sick the day they taught proper bedside manor with a patient. I hear that the University of Chicago just received a $50 million grant to focus on classes that will improve bedside manor among medical school students. Maybe you should enroll.

The pain did go away. It went away on my body’s terms, not your timetable. It went away about 6 months after I saw you for the last time. It wasn’t in my head, I wasn’t crazy, my body just took longer to heal. Probably the weight I was at (205 pounds) didn’t help the healing process either. But instead you just chose to make me feel like a lunatic.

Walking out on a crying patient who is in pain is an incredibly cruel thing to do. It very much goes against your Hippocratic oath of “first do no harm.” Other people may have just gone on in life and accepted the lot you gave them. I, on the other hand, had a fire lit inside me that NO ONE could extinguish. I was done being the weak, fat girl people made fun of. I was done with people treating me badly, you especially. Just see what happens when you tell me “you can’t.”

Determined, I went back to the gym in spite of the pain I was in. I lost 65 pounds over the course of a year. I appeared in Fitness Magazine as a reader success story for my weight loss. I won my company’s staff fitness competition and was the captain of my company’s Lighten Up Colorado fitness team that won a silver medal in the Rocky Mountain State Games.

I had all of these accomplishments, but what I wanted to do more than anything was run. Why? Because you said I couldn’t. Because you treated me like I was a crazy person and showed no compassion when I needed it the most. Because now I was a strong, determined, confident person who was going to overcome one final obstacle in my life. Because one arrogant prick of a doctor with a God complex was not going to keep me down.

You’d been wrong about everything else—the length of the healing process, the pain being in my head, I decided you were wrong about running too. I tried out my hypothesis and on August 2, 2010, I started to run. One month later, I ran my first 5K race.

Just a little over one year later, on October 9, 2011, I became a marathoner. That’s right. I ran 26.2 miles through the streets of Denver and finished a full marathon in 6:01:01. That is a whole lot of “never running again,” don’t you think?

I even had a tee shirt made that I wore at the race that said “October 9, 2011: Proving my doctor wrong for 26.2 miles.” It received a lot of support and feedback from the other runners. Quite a few of them had similar diagnoses from their doctors. One participant was 81 years old and had finished full marathons in all 50 states. His doctor told him to stop marathons after he did 11 because they were bad for his health. Well the 81-year-old man was running in Denver and his doctor, who was 10 years younger than him, was living out his life in a nursing home.

You may have gone to medical school and learned anatomy and biology, but you definitely didn’t learn the incredible strength and power of the human spirit. Bones can break and tendons can tear, but nothing can crack that awesome power and determination. That strength comes from within the soul, and it is strong enough to overcome anything thrown at it. Even you doctors. Remember that next time you tell a patient, “you can’t.”

In closing, take this final little nugget with you…when I crossed the finish line, one of my dear friends and supporters who was there at the race shouted, “your doctor was full of shit.” I couldn’t have said it better.

Signed,

Noel D., a marathon finisher who has run over 500 miles in the past year

In the Club

A lot of people I’ve talked to who are experienced marathoners say that finishing a marathon is like giving birth. In 2009, 4,136,000 babies were born in the United States. During that same year, about 450,000 people finished a marathon. A lot more babies were born than people finished a marathon, so I’m going to venture out there and say (as one who is childless) that nope, a marathon is a harder challenge than giving birth. People would rather go through the pains of childbirth than run a marathon. Seriously. It is a very elite club of people, and now the kid who was always picked last in gym class and was made fun of for being fat, is part of it!

On the same day as my Denver Marathon was the Chicago Marathon. A friend of mine ran it and she visited Colorado last week. We got together to talk about our races. It was exhilarating, and we were both so excited to have someone to share it with. We both concluded that no one gets it unless they do it. That’s not to say that we didn’t appreciate the support and encouragement of our family and friends, but you really, really can’t get it unless you do it.

My family and friends had more of a unique perspective because they did do 6 miles with me at the end, so they knew what I was going through and what the experience was like, but unless you do all 26.2 miles, you just don’t quite realize the magnitude of the this race.

My friend and I dished on our highs and lows of the race and the brutality and horribly long training we endured. We talked shoes, free tee shirts and our medals. It was great. It was so exciting to share that with someone.

Driving around in active Colorado, I tend to see bumper stickers all the time with “13.1” splashed on them or “runner” or “Marathoner.” But, I rarely see the elusive 26.2 sticker. That is a big deal to see. I have one of my car now, and since I put it on, I’ve been waiting to see another one. The other morning on my drive into work, the car in front of me on the interstate had one. I was so excited! I wanted to drive up alongside them and say, “yes, me too! Me too! We’ve done it! We know!” But I figured I’d get into an accident or get arrested for being a psycho.

I’m not at all trying to sound like I’m better than anyone or that I’m some super elite athlete. Gosh, it took me 6 hours to finish, that’s not elite at all. I just mean, it’s a really unique experience to be a part of this special group, and I’m excited about it. I feel so lucky and privileged to be amongst the 450,000 finishers. Lord knows it took all of my energy, all of my stubbornness and an extremely support group of family and friends who helped me on race day to get to be a part of it.

This is an open, welcoming club. We want more members! Lace up your shoes and start training today. I promise you, it’s a high you will never forget and it will stay with you always.

How the Marathon Changed My Life

This past week, I watched the documentary “Spirit of the Marathon” for the third time to get inspired for my race. I also watched “Marathon Challenge.” Both films carried the same message: the marathon will change your life. I figured the race would. I mean after all, I trained for 10 months and it had taken such a huge part of my life to get to race day. But I really didn’t realize how much it would change my life and how quickly.

I learned so much about myself on race day, things I always thought were there, but was never quite sure. I have always known that I’m very stubborn, and I will push through things if I set my mind to it. However, like anyone, I do have a breaking point. I wasn’t sure where that point was until race day. I came so close to giving in at mile 14 when my foot got so bad, but then I pushed through until the finish. That is when I realized how truly strong I am. If I could push through excruciating pain to finish a 26.2 mile race, well I could do anything.

I had no idea on the day of the race that I was going to need that new found confidence and grit so soon. Yesterday, I found out about some very major changes at my job. My two-person art department is shrinking to just me as we are transitioning some staff. I think before the marathon, I would have been freaking out about taking on two full time jobs until new staff is put into place. It’s a lot of new and foreign responsibilities that are coming my way. Given my high-strung, high-anxiety personality, I know that I would have been downing Maalox for an upset stomach last night scared to death about what would come.

But, now knowing that I’ve run a marathon, which is physically one of the hardest challenges on the planet, I know I can do anything. Sure, the changes are going to be difficult and time-consuming, but I absolutely know it’s not only something I can handle, but excel at as well. Running for 6 straight hours is far worse than learning some new skills at the office.

The marathon did change my life. It gave me a confidence and strength I wasn’t sure I had. It gave me reassurance in myself and in my abilities. It may have been one six-hour day, but the benefits will last a lifetime.

Denver Rock & Roll Marathon Photos

True Grit: My Battle With the 26.2 Mile Monster

Yesterday, around 1:30 in the afternoon, I became a marathoner. The dream I had been working towards for nearly 10 months was achieved. Physically, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to accomplish. I absolutely could not have done it without such an amazing supportive team of friends and family either. Oh and my absolutely stubborn personality helped a little too. Like the movie, one might say I have true grit.

We drove up to Denver the day before the race to go to the expo and pick up our race packets. I was extremely nervous on Saturday, but I tend to work myself up over things. Going to the expo, however, got me in a great mood and pumped up for the race. I met one of my running idols, elite marathoner Kara Goucher, who was so friendly and encouraging. I also got to meet two stars from the Biggest Loser, a show I watch religiously. The expo had a lot of great energy and it was an awesome way to kick off the race weekend.

After the expo, I went out and had the obligatory big pasta dinner. I tried to go to bed early, but I was so nervous and anxious about the race, I hardly slept at all. The alarm went off at 4:30am, and I was ready to go out and conquer this thing.

Race morning, we walked the four blocks from our hotel to the starting line. I was in corral 15, aka the slowpoke corral, the last corral to start because we were going to take the longest. There was great music blasting and lots of good energy. I was so nervous, I felt like throwing up, but at the same I was getting really, really excited. This was actually going to happen. I was going to run a marathon. It still seemed unbelievable, even as I was waiting in line.

My awesome, awesome friends Greg, Doug, Lara and Vicki drove in from out of town to come and cheer me on and surprised me with posters they were going to wave around the course. The person I met the day of the half marathon, Marilyn, and her husband David were going to run the race with me and help pace me since my friend Rachel ran at a faster pace and would be further ahead. I was so incredibly grateful to Marilyn and David for being willing to take on this horrendous challenge just to help me out. I always said that on the day of my half marathon that Marilyn was my guardian angel for helping me out, but on race day, I now I had two guardian angels.

The race started and eventually we were off as corral 15 was the last to go about 30 minutes later. As soon as we started running, I was feeling much better in terms of my nerves. I had my music on, and I was able to keep up some conversation with David and Marilyn. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and perfect—it was around 50 and sunny with a cool breeze, ideal running weather. We pounded through the pavement enjoying the beauty of downtown Denver and the fantastic rock and roll bands at nearly ever mile. I have to say, the rock and roll series is a blast and I highly recommend it. They organize it extremely well and the rock bands and cheer squads they hire are phenomenal!

Along the route, we met some amazingly inspiring people. I had a shirt made for the race that said:
• 11.16.07 Reconstructive foot surgery following a car accident. Doctor says I will never run again.
• 08.02.10 Took first painful steps as a runner. Completed 0.8 mi / 10 min
• 10.09.11 Proving my doctor wrong for 26.2 miles
Several people stopped me to say my shirt was inspiring and congratulations, but then it turned out that they had just as inspiring stories to share. One gentleman had a shirt on that said “Marathon Finisher in all 50 states.” He said he liked my shirt and I said I liked his. Well, it turned out, he was 81 years old. Years ago, after he had run 11 marathons, his doctor told him to stop because it was bad for him. 55 marathons later he was in Denver running and his doctor, who was 10 years younger than him, is living in a nursing home. So we had a good chuckle about proving our docs wrong and off he went.

I saw my family and friends at mile 10 and started to cry. It felt so good to see them, it was like water in a desert. My bad foot had started to ache a few miles earlier, and seeing them was exactly what I needed.

Things were starting to get tough around mile 11. My foot was aching horribly. It always starts to hurt around mile 8, and I normally push through without a problem, but this was so much worse. I think the tension and the pressure of the day plus the pace I was pushing myself at were definite factors in why the pain had escalated. Marilyn and David were fantastic cheerleaders in pushing me ahead and helping me keep pace. They worked so hard with me to keep me going. The sag wagon, aka the van that picks up slowpokes who can’t keep the minimum pace, was right on our tail, but we kept going.

Finally, a little past mile 14, my foot just stopped. Marilyn and David tried so hard to keep me going, but my foot was beyond done. I couldn’t take one more step. I told them I had to get on the van, that I just couldn’t go anymore. Crying, I climbed into the van feeling like a complete and utter failure. Everything I had worked so hard for was done. The race officials who were driving the van, were so nice. They comforted me and told me that I was not done. That if I felt like I could go on after a short break, I could still finish the race and was still an official completer of the marathon.

I drank some water and sat in the van for about 2 miles. Then I decided, I am absolutely not a quitter. I may not be a good runner, but I had worked so hard for 10 months, not to mention overcoming so many other obstacles in my life like clinical depression and obesity, this was NOT going to win. I was going to finish this race. I knew that I wouldn’t do another full marathon, that half marathons are more my speed, but damnit, I was going to finish and prove my doctor wrong once and for all.

I hobbled out of the van after roughly two miles and got back on the course. I was alone as Marilyn and David had gone on, but there were other runners on the course. I was in a beautiful park and the weather was great. I turned up my music and shuffled on. My pace was painfully slow, but I was out there doing it and determined.

At mile 19, I saw my family. They were so surprised I was still going as they had run into Marilyn and David who had told them what had happened. I was crying and told them I wasn’t going to quit no matter what. They told me that they were proud of me and if I was in severe pain, it was okay to quit, but I said nope, I was finishing. So they all joined me at that mile and helped push me through. It was the most amazing thing to have them all with me and helping.

At mile 20, everyone except my friend Greg got back into the car and they were going to meet up with us at mile 22. Greg walked alongside me while I did my shuffle run/jog/cripple walk. 🙂 He told me funny stories and kept me going. Finally, we were at mile 22 and the rest of my family plus Vicki, Lara and Doug were there. They all got out and walked with me. My parents even ran alongside me for a little bit! It was so inspiring. I couldn’t feel my foot anymore the pain was so excruciating and my IT bands were acting up big time. The lactic acid build-up in my legs was super intense, but I kept plodding along, mostly walking at this point.

Every time someone on the streets cheered, my friends and family pointed to me and said “it’s all her, she’s doing this and we’re proud of her.” It was the most amazing experience ever to have such dedicated friends and family help me through this horrible battle with the 26.2 mile monster.

They stayed with me through the rest of the entire race helping me along with each painful, painful step. They sang songs and made up cheers and helped me up hills. They danced in the streets to the rock bands to cheer me up and distract me from the immense pain I was in. By the way, the worst hill on the entire course was at mile 25 and it was nearly straight up. Whoever designed that course was kind of mean to do that.

Finally, I saw the sign for mile 26. The finish line was only 385 yards away. I was about to finish a marathon. I hadn’t given up when it got tough. I saw it through. Everything I had gone through since my car accident was about to get final closure. I had done it.

When I turned the corner, I saw the finish line. I turned up my iPod to blast my finish line song “Sing” by My Chemical Romance. Suddenly, I had a burst of adrenaline and I took off running at top speed. I held my arms up high and the announcer told the crowd, “Crossing the finish line is Noel Dolan from Colorado Springs.” I sprinted through, crossing the finish line with my fists pumping and tears streaming down my face.

My friends and family as well as Rachel and her family were all waiting and hugging me. I was crying so hard I couldn’t even breathe. But they were such happy, happy tears. I couldn’t believe it. The former fat-assed cripple (as I called my former self) had become a marathoner.

I finished the Denver Rock and Roll Marathon with an official time of 6:01:01, something I am so unbelievably proud of and will cherish forever. I realized my body told me that I am not made for this kind of brutality, so I am going to stick to half marathons and try out a triathlon. 13.1 miles nothing to sneeze at, but it doesn’t break down my body the way the marathon does. I just needed to do this once for a sense of closure and to know I accomplished something my doctor said would be impossible.

I had fought the 26.2 mile monster and with the extreme help and dedication of my friends, family and Marilyn and David, I had won.

Marathon Week: Why Oh Why-oh?

Whether they admit to it or not, everyone has a real, personal reason to do a marathon. Some do it to raise awareness for a cause or charity, others are big jocks on a quest to prove themselves and more and more people have reasons specific to themselves and their experiences in life. People are asking me: why are you running a marathon? My initial response is usually “I’m proving my doctor wrong.” But it goes a lot deeper than that.

When I was going through my car accident and the aftermath, it was a really dark period in my life. I don’t mean to say it was something horrific like someone battling cancer or losing a loved one, but it was pretty bad. I was in pain 24 hours a day 7 days a week 365 days a year for nearly 2 years. That’s going to take a toll on someone. Not to mention I was 205 pounds and had the lowest self-esteem in the world. During that period, I endured ridicule about my weight both from strangers and from people who I thought were my friends. I took myself into a downward spiral every time I set foot in the shopping mall and nothing fit. I wanted something, anything to feel better from the pain I was in. The only thing I could do was eat, so I did.

After being laid up though, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I decided to do something. I lost all the weight and was feeling good. I had a lawsuit going on my car accident, but lost out on a huge settlement due some technicalities with paperwork. It was a huge blow. I thought after all I’d been through, at least I’d have some money as compensation. Even my podiatrist backed out of testifying when he saw how tough things were getting. I was so angry and hurt by the whole situation.

I knew I had to move on and let go. It was over and nothing more could be done. Yet, here I was, this person super into fitness who had turned their life around and I couldn’t run. Initially, I only wanted to run because my doctor said I never would. I was so pissed at him, that was my main reason. I used to watch the Biggest Loser marathon episodes over and over and cry that I couldn’t do it. I never knew I wanted it so badly, frankly. I think it’s just my personality that if you tell me I can’t, then I want it more. I made up my mind that I was going to be a runner and I was going to run a marathon.

I was going to prove everyone wrong. The lawyers who worked for the other side in my case, my doctor and the people who made fun of me for my weight. I had no idea how I was going to do it, but I knew I would one day. That day came in August when I tried the treadmill for the millionth time, but for the first time didn’t have any pain in my foot. I bumped the speed up more and more and suddenly I was running and I wasn’t hurting! I couldn’t believe it. I went as long as I could, which was a whopping 10 minutes, but it was more than I had ever done.

I decided, if I can do 10 minutes, then I can do 26.2 miles. And so the quest and the training began. Here I am 3 days away from the marathon, an event 4 years in the making with me. I am doing it to heal and to bring closure to a bad time in my life. I’m doing it to give hope to others who feel hopeless whether it’s over a health issue or a lost job or a death. It’s to show, that if you have enough determination, you can overcome almost anything.

It may cause some damage to my body initially, but ultimately it’s going to heal me.

Marathon Week: I Would Walk 500 Miles For You

I started off a 205 lb person on crutches with a bad foot. I finished nearly 500 miles later to become a marathoner.

Well, the week has finally arrived. I am seven days away from becoming a marathoner for the first time. I have trained long and hard for a total of 10 months in the freezing cold and blazing heat. My doctor said I would never be a runner, and since August 2, 2010, my crippled foot has clocked in nearly 500 miles of running. I have run a total of 464.78 miles since last August and 322.26 miles since January 1, when I started training. That’s a whole lot of “never going to be a runner” miles. 🙂

Since last week, I have had great apprehension as the date draws near, but I have to admit that today, I am feeling eerily calm given my high-strung, high-stress personality. I have done all that I can to train for this thing. I have devoted nearly every single Saturday for 10 months to running long distances not to mention the weight and speed training I do during the week. There’s nothing more I can do.

I’ve read stories about people who try to wing a marathon after only training for 1 – 3 months. Their experience is awful and not pretty, but the outcome was always the same: they finished. Maybe by the skin of their teeth and without a few toenails, but they always finished. I have to focus on that when I start to get discouraged. If someone can finish after barely doing anything, then I can finish after devoting 10 months to training.

I am going to tape a picture of my former overweight, crippled self underneath the brim of my hat. When I get discouraged and terrified during the race, I’ll pull off my hat and look at the picture. Realizing how incredibly far I’ve come, I’ll have the energy and motivation to keep going through the pain and misery.

Okay, marathon, I am ready. Bring it!

The Marathon Countdown Begins

In a week and a half, I will be attempting my first marathon. In 10 days, I somehow have to get the energy to run 26.2 miles through the city of Denver. I am starting to freak out to put it mildly. I sleep soundly, but I wake up in a panic, thinking about the race. I’ve been training for 10 months and given it everything I could, but what if I don’t finish in the allotted 6 hours? I don’t think I could handle that disappointment.

Other than losing weight, I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard for something. And I don’t think I’ve ever struggled so much. I’ve always been the over achiever type in that if I’m interested in something and apply myself, I’m usually very, very good at it. With running, I’ve had to eat a slice of humble pie and accept the fact that I’m not good at it. In fact I’m rather bad given my pace and finishing times.

But it gives me a joy that was missing with my other exercise routines. There is such an extraordinary sense of accomplishment that comes with running, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Anytime I reach a new distance, I’m moved to the point of tears in awe of what I’ve done. So maybe I’m not good at it, but every time I finish a run, I feel like I’ve won Olympic gold.

I am completely terrified of the race that lies ahead. Everyone is telling me to calm down and enjoy it, which I will most certainly try to do. The race officials are working really hard to make it a fun race by providing cheering squads and rock bands at every mile. But the doubt lingers in my mind. My doctor said I could never be a runner, what if he was right? I know he’s not really, after all I’ve run up to 20 miles. That’s a whole lot of “not running.” But at the same time, with the way my head works, if I don’t finish the marathon, it’s like I didn’t run at all.

I have people to run with and a lot of friends and family coming to cheer me on. Plus, there is such a camaraderie with running that everyone tries to encourage and take care of each other. Deep, deep down, locked away somewhere I do know I’ll finish. It’s just hard to let that confidence see the light of day as I face this challenge.

Help a Good Cause

Dear Readers,
I am less than two weeks away from running the Denver Rock and Roll Marathon. After my car accident and foot surgery, my podiatrist told me the odds of me running ever again were zero. The odds of a homeless or abused animal surviving their situation aren’t much higher. However, I overcame the odds and became a runner, about to conquer the marathon.

I am raising money for the Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region and the National Mill Dog Rescue to give animals bigger odds of surviving and finding happy, safe forever homes. I will split all money earned 50/50 between these two organizations.

Please visit my website and consider donating through PayPal. You will receive a receipt for your tax records.

Donate to Team Bow Meow Today!

Thank you for your support and kindness,

The Skinny Pink Ninja

Day of Rest

Elite distance runner Ryan Hall has said that for him, the hardest part of training is taking rest time. He knows he has to in order to prevent injury, but he hasn’t always liked it and finds it difficult to do. I, on the other hand, enjoy my off days a great deal. My body needs to recover, and I perform better when I’ve had rest.

Unfortunately this week has been too much resting. My company gym has been closed all week (except for Monday, which I did work out) due to the fact we’re hosting an event. Then, our weather has been in the high 90s all week, making it impossible to run outside. I already get up at 5:00 to get to work on time, so I can’t really squeeze in a run before that. So it’s been a lazy, lazy week.

I’m gearing up for my 20 mile run on Sunday. My marathon race partner is in town, so we finally have a chance to run together and try to tackle a huge distance. It’s our last major distance before we start to taper down and get ready for the big race. While some rest is a great thing that prepares you for a brutal run of 20 miles, I’m wondering am I going to be screwed from only running one day this week?

Deep down, I think I’ll be okay, but I feel awful having taken so much time off. Not to mention, I just feel icky. I feel flabby and I’m craving the thrill of the run. It’s a withdrawal to not work out. I feel restless and want to hit the pavement. It’s still an odd feeling to me that I crave working out. Granted, I’ve been working out steadily for the past 3 years, but I still find it bizarre that this former fat girl is dying to hit the gym when I’ve had too many days off.

So when training for a large event, do take rest days. Your body and muscles need them. But don’t take more than one at a time. Stay tuned for the 20 mile report, we shall see if this was a help or a hindrance.