Mutiny aboard the HMS Bon

My body is in revolt. It clearly does not want me to run this marathon.

My joints, tendons, respiratory system, and immune system are all conspiring to take over the ship of my body and steer me away from Grand Island. And I have to compromise, string them along, pretend to meet their demands, until the 11th hour when I will pull my bargain off the table and my guts and heart will retake control of the ship.

After last week's 20-miler, I awoke the next morning feeling like I'd spent the night in a bar. My throat was raw and felt rumblings deep in my chest. The cold I've been working on since my first 20 miler 4 weeks ago keeps resurfacing with every hard workout.

So I made it my priority just to spend the next 2 weeks to rest and get better before the race. I began my taper with a short speed workout - 3 mile-repeats on the treadmill, out of the heat and smoggy thick air.

I felt great. Full of energy. Ready to run 26 more. I felt like I could have run repeats forever. But my right leg from my ankle to my hip felt a little out of whack. But it stopped just as I got off the treadmill, with only a nagging dull ache in the arch of my right foot. It was gone by the afternoon. Just a typical ache that I expect after last week's high mileage.

Wednesday I rode the bike and continued to feel great. Thursday, my plan had been to do 10 miles with 6 at marathon pace. But after a tough day at work, I felt tired, and fell asleep on the train on the way home, another indication of my ongoing cold. Groggily trudging up the steps to my house with a headache, I decided to postpone my run until Friday to get more rest.

Friday afternoon I hit the treadmill at work for 6 miles at marathon pace. As soon as I laced up my shoes I knew something was wrong. My right foot felt sore. I started to run and noticed my stride was off. I was also having to stop to shake loose muck from deep in my lungs, a whole-body cough which sapped my energy.

I finished the run and felt all right energy wise, but disturbed. Still, I reckoned that if I rested until Sunday before running again, I would be fine.

Saturday morning, I got up and went to a staff off-site meeting for work. As I slipped on my kittn-heeled mules I had very sharp pains in the arch of my right foot. Now I was upset. I limped into the Mandarin Oriental conference room and sat until 4 PM with our Board of Directors, stretching my foot under the table. By the evening it felt better. This morning soreness is a sure sign that I have developed plantar fasciitis.

Sunday morning, DH and I got up to take a short 10-mile run around Burke Lake. Again, as I laced up my shoes I noticed a dull ache in my arch. I set out around the lake and the dull pain continued like the nagging feeling that you've forgotten something. Always in the back of my mind but nothing that would cause any grief until it turns out I needed whatever I forgot and the situation turns dire.

We headed around the lake at an easy but relatively fast pace, maybe just a hair slower than marathon pace. Things are going ok until a little over halfway around, or 30 minutes into the run, when the pain becomes a lot more noticeable, and I'm forced to alter my stride and drop back. The pain is worse as my foot pronates on each step, another sign of plantar fasciitis, and I awkwardly try to keep my weight over the outside of my foot.

I give it 10 more minutes, about 3/4 of a mile from the parking lot and the end of our first loop. DH has pulled far ahead of me and I can't see him anymore. And I know that I'm only making things worse with each step. I do what I've never done before. I give up.

My body has mutinied. My feet are throwing me overboard. Enough. No more abuse.

But giving in to my body's demands isn't turning over control to the mavericks just yet. I'm simply negotiating and meeting their demands. So we won't do 10 miles today. That's fine. I didn't need this run anyway. At 6 days from my race, a 10 mile run isn't doing much but keeping my legs fresh, and breaking myself down to improve performance isn't part of the agenda right now.

So I go home, and put on a comfortable pair of flat shoes, and go out to the local Metro Run and Walk. I walk in, tell them I'm less than a week away from a marathon, I'm feeling the beginnings of plantar fasciitis, show them my shoes and orthotics, and ask what I can do to further support the arch.

They don't recommend I change shoes a week before the race, but after the race, I'm going to need to probably replace my orthotics and get a gait analysis to determine if the shoes are exactly right. The Asics Gel Kayanos I've been wearing have been a great blend of cushioning and support and have worked well with my orthotics, but I may need slightly more stability for my right foot.

For now, the clerk steers me away from the arch supports designed for plantar fasciitis and says, from experience, that taping will be easier and cheaper. He gives me a short description of how to do the taping job, and tells me where to find instructions on the internet.

I walk out of the store without buying anything. But they know I'll be back for shoe advice.

At home in the afternoon I ice my foot for several hours off and on. Then I shower and get ready to tape up. The instructions I found make it look like the taping will do a fine job of giving my tendons a rest, and DH very capably tapes me up.

The foot feels much better as of this moment, but we'll see in the morning. For now, the plan is to rest. I have just a couple of easy miles with strides scheduled for Tuesday. Depending on how that goes, I may just ride the bike for the rest of the week. I will be keeping the foot taped up and icing it, in an effort to assuage its demands without damaging my race performance.

And when it comes down to it, I'll gut it out through the race on Saturday. I am stronger than my mutinous tendons and bronchial passages. I may pay for it later, but I can only live for today. I don't know if I will get to run another marathon. This race is here and now, I am prepared for it, I have plane tickets and hotel reservations. I may not perform at my best, but I will not let my body steal this experience from me. I am the captain of this ship, and if I never sail again, I will return home victorious.

I'll deal with the unruly crew of this ship when I return to shore.