I so very much wanted to be excited about this week and what the weekend would bring, but I couldn't help feel defeated knowing that the week was about to start with a tacky, buffering, blurry internet viewing of my Nana's funeral.
Mum and I had already decided that we were not going to fly back to New Zealand for the funeral, for many reasons, so I took half a day off work and Mum came over to my house. I set up the viewing on the TV so we could be pathetic together in the living room. The service was lovely.
Regardless of the apparent emotional and physical setbacks I was experiencing, I stubbornly mapped out a new training schedule with Rhi, and posted it on the blog to make it real.
This was it.
The last hurrah.
This was the plan that was going to put us over that finish line.
I made sure I referenced all the amazing people I took encouragement and advice from, and then printed it and put it on the wall right next to my desk.
I was also privileged this week to have been elected to write a smaller, more summarised monthly blog piece for the Kangaroo Island Marathon website.
I have been in frequent contact with the KI Race director, and after some back and forth regarding our journey so far, he asked if I would like to participate, which I of course pounced on like a fat kid on cake.
Who wouldn't? What an opportunity! I was so stoked.
I quickly smashed out a small brief on how we got from the Couch to just before our 10k, and submitted it nervously for his review.
Next thing I knew, I had been notified that my blog was live. Wee!
As if my own excitement wasn't enough, the KI Facebook page also shared my KI Blog post, and Rhi quickly pointed out that people were commenting our journey with awe and determination to meet the goals we had already met.
That used to be me. That eager, empowered and hopeful couch-loving unfit me that used to stalk other people's running blogs and think "one day, that will be me". And it was.
We were only half way through our marathon training, and I felt like I had already made it, because I had finally truly identified with the accomplishments we had already achieved and could truly call myself a runner. Go, me! Go, us!
With renewed determination, I decided to join Rhi after work on Monday to attempt a run.
I completely anticipated my shins giving me grief, so after watching many tutorials and instructional videos online, I taped up my shins with KT Tape and off we went.
2km. That is how far I got before I started to experience pain. 2 fucking kilometres.
Determined (and stupid) I kept running anyway, and we finished the 5.1km loop.
I felt so goddamn useless.
A few weeks ago, Rhi and I were smashing 9km and stopping only because we ran out of time. Now I was running 2km and wanted to curl up and cry. What the hell is wrong with me?!
Tuesday was cross-training day, and so I decided to smash out a workout on the elliptical at home. Surprisingly, I experienced no pain at all on my shins and realised that the only time I get any pain was with the impact of my footfalls while running. Otherwise, I don't feel any pain at all. Interesting.
According to our new training plan, Wednesday had now become speed training day. This Wednesday was specifically Mona Fartlek day.
As per usual, Rhi was super nervous, and I was excited just to be trying something different. Idiot.
I always seem to underestimate how difficult these things are.
Since the my KT taping did jack shit for me on Monday night, I did a little more research and found another colourful way of taping my shins.
We went down to Victoria Square onto the grass and started with a warm-up jog.
I could immediately feel my shins starting to burn. Stupid KT tape.
We moved out onto the green, and since I had already set my Garmin up (I will have to fill you in on my Garmin purchase adventure later) with the intervals we needed to complete, I counted us down and then started the clock.
90 second sprint... 90 second jog... 60 second sprint... 60 second jog... 30 seconds... 15 seconds..
We stopped after our last 15 second jog and I was almost at vomit point. Holy hell that was hard!
I had distinctly remembered seeing that this workout was supposed to take at least 20mins. I mean, do the math..... we had only done 6.5 mins, and with a warm-up of 5mins, and warm-down of 5mins we both looked eachother in despair. We were going to have to do it again.
The sprinting itself sucked, but running on the grass didn't cause nearly as much pain to my shins as what I had felt when we were warming up. But I didn't know if this was due to me being warmed up properly or that I was running on a softer surface. So confusing.
We laboured past the last 15mins sprint and jog and walked back down to the "Sweat Course" to warm down.
That is when it hit me. I mean, really hit me.
I started jogging really slowly to warm down, and I was overwhelmed with the intensity of the pain that suddenly flamed and flared through my lower shins.
We stopped to stretch and a glance at my ankles confirmed that I really had CANKLES. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, Cankles is the term referring to the appearance of your calves and ankles becoming one and the same size. Like, you can't seem to tell where one ends, and the other begins. I had clearly stockpiled an olympic-sized swimming pool worth of liquid in my ankles which was tender to touch, and ever harder to walk on.
I limped all the way back to the office.
It wasn't until this workout, that the reality of the situation really dawned on me.
I don't think I can do this.
I needed a plan, quick.
I started by going home, rubbing arnica cream over my legs and walking around the house with compression socks on to assist with the swelling.
The next morning I my shins were fine again. They were FINE. What?!
Regardless of annoyingly normal shins, I actually woke up suffering some serious sinus and flu symptoms and decided to stay at home In case I was coming down with the flu.
I decided that I would take it easy until my next appointment with Rob (masseuse) on Friday because there would be no point doing any further damage to my legs when he might have some answers for me.
I was till feeling really sick on Friday however, so I stayed at home and couldn't get another appointment with Rob until the following Friday. Great.
Aunt Flo also decided to visit me on Friday which just made everything about my life at this point fucking amazing.
Oh yeah, and I woke up with a massive stye on my left eye.
So I was sniffly, tired, sore, grumpy, PMSing and looked like a pirate, and I was supposed to be going out on the town on Saturday night for a beautifying, cocktail drinking, dance-the-night-away fun time. Fuck no.
My sinuses actually started to come right in the afternoon on Friday so I was able to stay up as late as possible Friday night in preparation for the big night ahead of me the next day.
I even managed to sleep in. Win!
When I finally crawled out of bed, barely able to open my stupid stye eye, I realised that I didn't actually have a whole lot of time before I needed to leave because of all the shit I had managed to cram into the day.
We were meeting at my cousin Ben's for pre-drinks later on, but I had also managed to book in my wedding hair-dresser trial for the afternoon but my hairdresser was all the way down in Christies Beach (over an hour's drive south from me).
I madly rushed around the house. Coffee. Brekky. Teabag my eye (it works, try it!). Overnight bag. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. I had no idea what I was going to wear so I just packed everything.
When I finally made it down to Christies Beach, the hairdresser (Crystal) was lovely, and I also managed to book my preferred wedding makeup artist as they work from the same studio (win!).
Off to Bens to get ready.
Everyone started turning up at around 7, we had a few cheeky jelly shots and other various delicious beverages and then piled into a taxi to the city.
It was actually a great night, despite my body hi-jacking me. We tried some great cocktails, ruined our feet dancing in heels and didn't get home until after 3am. Such a party animal.
Sunday was a lazy hungover day, and when I got home, I managed a shower, a nap and did little else for the rest of the night.
I felt terrible having not done much of any exercise for the week, but promised myself that I would do the bets I could next week until I could get some answers from Rob.
Everyone has been giving me their 2cents worth of opinions based on their personal experiences, but nothing has really made any sense.
The pain I was experiencing wasn't falling into any mainstream lines drawn by everyone else.
I guess I will just have to wait and see!