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On Not Being Able to Speak Up

Something about me: I find it really, really difficult to speak up in certain situations. It gets to the point where I feel paralyzed; I know what I should say and when I should say it, but I just can’t. People who know me, like my husband, will urge me to simply not be afraid to speak up. But it isn’t about being afraid. I can’t explain exactly what force is preventing me from using words to convey my thought in certain situations. I just know that there is something clamping down on my mouth and I feel basically incapable of doing anything. I am paralyzed.

I’m writing about this now because I’ve been struggling with a recurrence of my neck injury. I got a massage last weekend, then an email from Coach Abby (who’s already proved how much I need her — more on her another time) saying ‘Whatever you do don’t get a massage until the pain goes away. Only e-stim and acupuncture is totally fine. But no massage.”

CRAP. Not only was I too late to heed her advice, but my pain did get significantly worse following the massage, which I didn’t connect until her email. So I committed to healing. I started using my e-stim machine every day. In fact, I’m using it right now as I type this.

Dori's e-stim

E-stimming at work

Committed to recovery,  I rested; no Refine, no running. I made an appointment for acupuncture and when the day of my appointment arrived — this past Sunday — I was already feeling so much better. No pain at all, just a feeling of the right side of my neck and shoulder being different, slightly heavier and stiffer. But the pain was gone and I felt certain I’d be running in a few days time.

So on Sunday as I lay on the acupuncture table, I showed the doctor where my pain was and told her I’m already doing much better than I was. She put the needles in, turned on a machine that I think was also e-stim but it felt more like poking (in a good way – got right to the muscle), and pointed that amazing heat lamp on me.

I felt really good. I didn’t feel pain, I enjoyed the poking sensation into my crazy tight muscle, and I knew that the acupuncture would only push me further towards recovery.

When timer went off and the doctor came back into the room, she took the needles out and started pressing into my muscles. Hard. Starting from the origin of pain (between my neck and shoulder) and up into the side of my neck. It hurt. A LOT. In a way that I knew was wrong.

And I let it happen.

The whole thing lasted no more than 60 seconds, but I knew I should have said something. I knew I should have stopped her. I knew she was taking something that was pretty much better and making it much, much worse. It hurt too much for what it was. I’d been to her for acupuncture before, the last time I had this injury, and the massage felt nice then. It didn’t feel like torture.

But this time it did. Why didn’t I stop her right away? Why didn’t I say “no massage?” Part of the reason was a slight language barrier, but that’s a poor excuse. While Chinese is obviously her first language, she does speak English just fine. Was I worried about offending her? About insinuating I knew more than she does?

Honestly, I can’t answer that. I really don’t know why I didn’t speak up, especially since I knew she might have been setting me back in my recovery.  All I can say is that it didn’t even feel like a choice. It wasn’t like “should I say something?” Rather, it was like, “I should say something I should say something I should say something speak speak use words make sounds” — but I was immobile. I couldn’t.

And the thing is — this happens all the time. ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I can’t just say what I want when I want. Whatever held me back on Sunday — and believe me, it felt 100% out of my control even though I know it isn’t — holds me back in countless situations.

The difference is that most other situations aren’t going to physically harm me. This one did. But I felt paralyzed. I wanted to talk and I couldn’t. Is it just my personality? Or is it an emotional problem? Am I scared? Am I just shy?

It is beyond frustrating and the worst part of this particular situation is it did cause damage. I could tell that day, but it wasn’t until Monday morning when I woke up in a whole lot of pain with the heavy head feeling back that I knew I was starting over with my recovery. The run I knew I’d be able to do this week won’t happen. The Refine class I figured I’d try next week probably won’t either. I’m going to Florida on Friday and have been looking forward so much to running in a tank top and shorts there. On Sunday morning I was certain I’d be able to run in Florida. Now, I have no idea. My neck does feel much better today than it did yesterday, so I guess TWT (time will tell).

It’s not even about a need to exercise. I don’t mind taking time off to rest and recover; I usually enjoy it. What this is about is the time crunch I feel. The pressure. I want so much to train hard and run a strong race and I feel like my window is shrinking. I want to train correctly and without injury. I just want a few months to give this my all.

I’m running a marathon on July 27. I need to start building my base. I don’t have time to fuck around and keep re-injuring the same fucking body part. (On that note, I am going to a highly recommended physical therapist tomorrow so hopefully I can find out why this keeps happening).

I also need to continue taking Refine so I can be strong so I don’t re-injure my knee while running.  Plus, running and Refine are my outlets for stress. I love these activities. I want to do them all the time. They help me cope with everything else going on in my life. They keep me grounded and sane.

I feel like in my inability to speak up, I did this to myself. I wanted to recover, I was smart about recovering and then right when I was on the verge of being better, I did this thing and ruined it.

But is it my fault if I feel paralyzed? Can I  force myself to escape that immobility and say the things I need to say?

I get that injuries happen and you never know and it sucks and all that. I know it and I accept it. But what I can’t accept is that I did everything “right” — rest, e-stim, acupuncture –  and then my own inability to speak up erased ALL THE GOOD in a matter of 60 seconds. I did this.

And that is what I can’t accept.

Marathons Are Emotional

After the Richmond Marathon, I was upset.

I had a goal; I didn’t reach my goal. I felt extremely disappointed.

After all, I spent months working harder at running than I ever have before. For the first time in my life, I ran four and five days a week. I did tempo runs and intervals and speedwork and strides. I hired a coach. I put in all the work and on race day, I fell short.

It’s tough to put so much into one day — no, into a few hours — where anything can happen.

I posted a tweet about my disappointment. A minute later, someone else posted her own tweet. It might not have been in response to mine (though it certainly felt that way), but it got to me.

I don’t want to share the actual tweet, but the idea was that if you are upset about your time, it means you don’t respect the marathon distance. A marathon is something very few people can do and should only be treated like an accomplishment.

This felt like a rant against my emotions. Emotions I can’t control, emotions I feel only because they exist.

I thought a lot about this tweet: Am I wrong to be upset? Is my disappointment taking away from someone else’s joy about finishing? But how can I NOT be upset? I already know I can finish a marathon; I happily finished two before this one. So why am I judged for wanting to do better, wanting to improve, wanting to test my limits? Why can’t I feel like finishing 26.2 is no longer enough for me? Why is it wrong to express disappointment about failing at something I worked hard for? What does respecting the distance have to do with my drive to improve?

More importantly, how can one person tell another person her emotions are wrong?

Marathons are emotional.

No matter how race day goes, good or bad, the emotions are extreme. I can’t put into words how elated I felt after finishing the 2011  Richmond Marathon and the 2013 Portland Marathon. Finishing a marathon in good conditions is quite possibly the best feeling in the world. Why else do we runners do marathon after marathon, always trying to chase that high?

Alternatively, the disappointment I felt after the 2013 Richmond Marathon was  also extreme.

So why is post-marathon happiness considered an appropriate emotion yet post-marathon upset considered a lack of respect for the distance? What does disappointment in oneself even have to do with the distance?

And what about the time I didn’t finish the New York City Marathon in 2011? I was so upset I couldn’t read Twitter, Facebook or blogs for a week because I didn’t want to hear about the race. Is it OK to be upset about not reaching your marathon goal if you don’t complete the distance? How is that different than being upset about completing the distance but not in the way you hoped? In both circumstances, I put in time and effort and made sacrifices in my personal life, all for something that did not go well in the end. And that is disappointing.

You feel these strong emotions — and then time passes and you move on. Yes, I was deeply upset after Richmond. I didn’t want to talk much about the race and I was unable to even feel happy that I set a great PR. I felt guilty for not feeling pleased about running a marathon time I never imagined possible just a year before. But I couldn’t help it. This was how I felt.

Then time passed and I got over it. Without the cloud of these emotions, I can now see the race for what it was — just a  race.

And I am glad I experienced these strong emotions! If I didn’t feel disappointment in not putting on my best performance, what motivation would I have to improve? I’m not wallowing two months later. I felt sad and then I moved on.

And my next marathon? Whether I achieve my goal or not, I can guarantee one thing: it will be emotional.

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