0s, when rechargeable batteries first started to hit the market, they were a young piece of technology. Sure, theoretically they were better than a standard one-off battery in that they had the potential to last over and over and over, instead of just one use. The problem however, was that after each time you charged them, you got a little bit less life out of them during their next use, before they were simply zapped. Charging and after charging, eventually the batteries simply couldn't be recharged and you just threw them away.My legs feel like 80s rechargeable batteries.
The race in Seattle got me pretty good. I was covered in salt, completely dehydrated, under-caloried, and utterly exhausted from cross-country flights and insufferable 7-hour drives in my rental compact (I have attached a pic for your viewing. No offense to those of you who own this model, but at 6'2 and change, it made the 7-hour bumper to bumper trek from Eugene, OR to Seattle absolutely miserable.) Even still, you can look for factors that contributed to your struggle, but you can't point a finger of blame. There's a big difference in the two and I've never been one to make excuses. That said, I got off my red-eye flight back to DC (with legs and ankles that had swollen like stovepipes following the all-night flight) and I made a promise to myself as I limped to my spot in thelong-term parking garage: I would not hurt this badly again as a result of poor preparation.
So I set out to train smarter, recover better, hydrate more efficiently, and get my head in the right mindset going into a very challenging San Francisco marathon, which was then less than a month away. As I write this--while waiting for call-backs from physicians with whom I'm scheduling some surgeries for three DLE client-athletes--I am now 16 days away from the marathon. Despite a disciplined protocol and sensible recovery/training plan following Seattle and leading up to San Francisco, my legs are much like the 80s batteries that just reached a point, where after multiple uses, they simply couldn't be charged anymore. Sure, you could plug them in and let them sit there, but there just wasn't any juice left.
Let me be clear: this is neither a white-flag waiving concession nor is it intended to read as a litany of excuses. To the contrary, this is what I like to call 'white knuckle honesty.' Yeah, the kind that is so raw, that it just makes you flinch. The truth of the matter is that everything hurts right now. I'm sore. I'm tired. I'm not recovering...and now, I'm heading into the most brutally hilly city in the United States to do my seventh marathon in a ten-race campaign.
So tomorrow morning, I'll get up early and do the last long run before the SF race. It'll be a hilly 14-mile run at race pace, from Ballston to Georgetown, around and through Rock Creek Park, flat along the C+O Canal, before crossing back over the Key Bridge into Virginia and beginning a 3-mile steep climb from the Potomac River back up to Ballston.
Am I looking forward to it? Absolutely not.
But I didn't sign up to host a polo match on the National Mall or host a celebrity golf tournament at a regional country club. I chose the most brutal, medieval format I could possibly envision as a means of dedicating myself to our nation's wounded young soldiers. I did so deliberately and I did so with eyes wide open.
I do so willingly and count myself fortunate to have the opportunity to do so--both as an able-bodied man of good health and as an American citizen who lives in a country that would provide the freedom and liberties for such a platform to be successful.
More than that, I do so because I believe that every one of those young servicemen and women that come thru Walter Reed Army Hospital, would do the same thing for me. One step, one race and one finish line at a time.
Doug Eldridge
President
DLE Sports
