"Just a flesh wound!"

There is a quote that I find reassuring in tough times:

And there isn't a better explanation for what happened Monday night when I was making a pie for my coworkers. I used an immersion blender to puree a roasted pumpkin and, for reasons beyond my own comprehension, I stuck my finger into the blender to scoop out the last bits of pumpkin from the blade. And while my left index finger was in the blender, I accidentally triggered the start button with my right hand.

Let me start with the good news

I didn't hit the bone, and I missed the tendons too. That is exceptional luck. Also, Monday night in Vermont is great time to go to the ER: I was literally the only patient there and had the focused attention of a PA and a nurse throughout the hours I spent there. Also, I live really close to the hospital so getting there only took minutes.

The ugly part

The single spinning blade ripped up my finger with one long, deep laceration and a dozen more jagged tears. I immediately realized what I did, covered it with clean gauze (which was weirdly, helpfully nearby) and got in the car - all within about 45 seconds.

 

(Trigger warning)

The first hour or two in the ER was a long process of assessing the damage and trying to staunch the volume of blood pulsating out of the wound. At one point, the PA removed a massive gauze pad to show another PA what it looked like and a huge arc of blood shot out from my finger. This was serious Monty Python territory.

They gave me several lidocaine shots to try to numb my finger. Ultimately, they had to drench gauze with a topical anesthetic and jam it into the open wound to numb the finger enough to attempt repairing it.

What does any of this have to do with running?

The moment this happened, my three simultaneous thoughts were, “I have to get to the ER,” and “Fucking pumpkin pie,” and “This better not affect running.”  At some point after earning my credentials as a compliant patient, I took the risk of being a freak and asked the PA and nurse if I would be able to run the next day. Then, when they were debating how to close the wound, I suggested again that perhaps the best method is the one that does not curtail running. (Having spent a few hours staring at the gaping wound, I could easily imagine the smallest exertion ripping it back open again.) And finally, when they were patiently explaining the discharge instructions, I kept asking things like, “When you say ‘don’t get it wet,’ does that include sweat?” And, “When you say , ‘keep it elevated above your heart,’ does that mean I need to run as if I’m in a constant ‘We’re #1 !!’ pose?” At this point, they were less impressed with my otherwise impeccable behavior as a patient.

Pretty much me, but with a lot of bandages and no trophy.

I tried running on the treadmill last night while watching Game 1 of the World Series. (Go Mets!)  The pain was throbbing and my gait with an elevated hand was awkward, leading to an unsatisfying walk-run. (Not to mention that game started very, very poorly for the Mets.)  Just when my knee is back on Team Patti, I feel like my running is getting sidelined by a finger injury. A finger!!

Prognosis

After trying the treadmill, I changed the hospital dressing for the first time, and got a good look at what I’m working with while this sucker heals. That was also pretty demoralizing. The stitches can come out in 10-14 days, and I’m hoping the wound calms down a lot before then. Right now it’s a red, swollen mess and I’m trying not to get too disappointed about the miles I’m not able to run.

But I still have six weeks till race day. Six weeks is a lot of time.

#notaper

Beth's Ultra: 45 Miles at Ghost Train

Chilly but ready at the start.

A second week of rest ended with an amazing weekend in New Hampshire for the Ghost Train Ultramarathon. Crewing for Beth's attempt at 45 miles was so, so fun and inspiring!

Ghost Train is an oddball race: a 7.5 section of a rail trail is run out-and-back, creating a 15-mile segment. Runners are invited to run as many laps as they want to in a 30-hour time limit. Along the way, they run through beautiful fall woods on a mostly flat trail peppered with pumpkins and "ghosts."

Before the race started, Beth was feeling under-trained and uncertain if she'd want to do more than 30 miles. But when she hit the end of the second lap, she committed herself intellectually (if not emotionally) to one more out-and-back to reach 45 miles. I was thrilled she chose to do the final lap, for her sake and for mine, because I got to run with her for 15 miles. And she did an amazing job! She kept running, not walking, and was in great spirits the whole time (or at least, she convinced me!). The sun set, the headlamps came out, and she still kept moving forward at a steady, determined pace. I was texting with her husband and friends - relaying updates to them and enthusiastic words of support to her. Despite the rural terrain in the dark of night, we felt like a whole crowd of great friends were running right along with us.

Pretty much this view, mile after mile.

While Beth was running the first 30 miles, I was driving back and forth along the course to cheer for runners. At each stop and I wriggled into the Gingerbread Man costume that Jess loaned me (it's very hard to drive while wearing the enormous Gingy head) and tried to cheer up weary runners. The race web site said "costumes encouraged" but apparently no one else took the encouragement as literally as I did. Walking around the start it quickly became apparent that I was the only one in costume...

Three aid stations (start, midway and turn-around) were great locations for cheering, stretching, and sustenance. Especially the turn-around aid station - amazing buffet! Fruit, sandwiches, pizza, roasted potatoes, candy, chips. All of this sounds really unhealthy, but man did it taste good to people who were burning thousands of calories in a short period of time.

Awesome aid.

Walking around the start area, I glimpsed an Antarctica Marathon tech shirt, and looked up to see that it was being worn by Boston Bill! He was ahead of Beth's pace, but I was able to keep tabs on him throughout the day. He was gunning for 100 miles, and I was thrilled for him to read in the race results that he made his goal in just over 24 hours. Vavilov!!

"Bill! It's me, Vermont Patti!"

Snapped when Bill was heading back in to Mile 45 and we were heading out from Mile 30

Also inspiring on the race course: a runner named Rhonda who was wearing a red-lettered bib on her back, "Blind Runner." She also was running a 100 miles, the first 45 with a running guide, and then a few more out-and-backs solo. Seriously, that is amazing: trail running an ultramarathon without sight. Remember that when you need inspiration.

This happy guy is Rob. "This heat lamp is the fifth thing today that is the best thing ever!"

And for your 45-mile effort, you get this postcard of a train.

We celebrate Beth's accomplishment with broth! And a long drive back to Vermont.

Injury, Rest

So, the day after the GMAA marathon was not so good, nor was the day after that. My knee has been really stiff and swollen, and it takes awhile to regain range of motion first thing in the morning. No miles this week, resting, seeing a great PT and trying to remember that eight weeks is plenty of time.

In the meanwhile, my week of rest was rewarded with clearance to go for a short run-walk to see how the knee feels. Jess took me to Sleepy Hollow to check out the trails and give Wilma a chance to mug for the camera.

GMAA: Marathon #10

Thank goodness for Beth! She is also training for an ultra, which means I have a partner with which to share both training miles and psychosis.

West Shore Road photo op.

We ran the Green Mountain Athletic Association marathon in the Lake Champlain Islands, my former stomping grounds, as a training run. We both remember hearing rumors about freaks for whom a marathon is not a goal race but rather a day in the schedule leading up to something bigger. Yes, we have become those freaks.

GMAA is a beautiful race, small and rural, and drawing the nicest people anywhere. We headed out with no time goals, just wanting to cover the distance. Along the way, we saw old friends, cheered for fellow runners, and saved several fuzzy caterpillars and one snake from being road kill.

Bummer of the day was around 23, when my right knee decided the race was over. Beth walked with me the last 3 miles, supportive of the decision not to push an injury in a race that didn't matter to either of us beyond getting in the miles. I've been just on the edge of injury for a few weeks, and 26 miles on mostly pavement might have been asking too much.

West Shore Road neighbors!

The race is an out-and-back that follows the lake shore, and we stopped for a scenic selfie in the late miles. Not too far away, a woman was standing at the end of her driveway, leaning on her walker and waving to runners. We learned that she is 101 years old, and is proud to live by herself, though her niece helps her out.  She was tickled that I wanted a picture with her, and while I regret that we didn't ask her name I hope she knows that she made my day.