3 Sisters 7 Days

“About that ankle?” asked my loving spouse when he saw me limping after my 8.1 mile “legs” of of the Buckhorn Exchange Relay last Sunday.

My ankle started hurting about five miles into my run, but the pain nearly disappeared within a few minutes of taking 800 milligrams of ibuprofen. It didn’t really bother me again until I put my (”flat” hiking) boots on later in the afternoon. My left boot was tight and it hurt to walk properly; yet I could avoid most of what pain there was by shifting my weight onto my toes.

By Tuesday, my ankle honestly felt fine. I ran about four miles – easy – on Wednesday without incident, so I ran eight per my training schedule on Friday. Near the end of that run, I could feel my ankle beginning to throb, but it wasn’t too bad and I didn’t have to limp at all when I stopped. Just in case, I did ice and elevate my ankle as soon as I came in.

Naturally, I assumed my ankle was healing – yeah! Unfortunately, my celebration may prove to have been premature. I ran 16.5 miles earlier today, taking care to walk – quickly and carefully – whenever the paved trail gave way to the natural unevenenss of rocks and roots. About eight miles into it, the bottom of my foot started to ache and I could feel my left shoe growing tighter. It didn’t really feel painful, though. By mile ten, the pain had moved “up” to include my ankle. I slowed to a walk, but that didn’t help AT ALL, so I opted to keep running. By the end of my run, the pain had actually abated some, though my forefoot and toes were numb – perhaps due to the tight shoe?

That is no longer the case. I’ve iced my ankle repeatedly, kept it elevated as much as possible, and maintained a steady stream of ibuprofen in my system all afternoon/evening, but nothing seems to bring lasting relief. Even keeping my weight OFF my ankle and ON my toes, I’m in a lot of pain. Yeah, uh oh…

Our brother Craig died in a motorcycle accident on March 29th, just a week before he’d planned to compete in his first race: the Platte River Half Marathon in Littleton, Colorado. Craig had only been running three weeks when he registered for his first marathon – Nike's San Francisco Marathon – and the “Denver” half marathon was supposed to be his first long training run.

What could we do but run it for him?

By 6:30 AM on race day, which promised to hit 35 degrees, tops, Jeanna, Terri, and I were bundled up and on our way north from Colorado Springs to Littleton. On the way, we decided to “share” Craig’s race by running the Buckhorn Exchange Relay; by the time the race started, we’d planned a “pick ‘em up” relay. Terri would run the first leg (5 miles), then “pick up” me for the second leg (another 5 miles), before meeting up with Jeanna to run the final leg (3.1 miles) together. By the time the race started, my son Quentin had convinced us that HE too could run the last leg – in street clothes, accompanied by Terri’s dog, Sam.

While this was nothing for Terri, who’s been training in “arctic” temperatures for months, Jeanna and I had our doubts. Bottom line, it was COLD! And at almost a mile in elevation, there just wasn’t as much oxygen as we are accustomed to in California.

Although even Terri had to keep her gloves on and Jeanna’s ankles ached in borrowed running shoes, we ALL made it. Our time was far from record-making, but terrifically healing. Craig may not have been proud of us, exactly, but I’m sure we made him laugh.

Here’s to you, Craig! We never would have done it without you.