OMG! ITB TMI

Any time you reach a halfway point, you’d better be prepared to dodge some flying metaphors. We all know that well begun is half done and half a loaf is better than two in the bush, or something. And thanks to Yogi, we know that half the game is 90 percent mental. But we also know that half-baked ain’t good and a halfway house is not a place to take your shoes off and stay a while.

So how does my half marathon quest look from halfway along? Answer: harder than expected. I had thought, having done a 10K (6.2 mile) race not that long ago, and regularly logging two or three miles in exercise runs, that building up to 13.1 miles over 20 weeks would be very do-able. That was before my right Iliotibial Band made its existence known.

The ITB is a band of tough fibrous tissue that runs from the hip to the outside of the knee. It exists, apparently, for the sole purpose of hurting when you run too much. It first tapped me on the shoulder during our five-miler on the National Mall on February 26 and has been a steady presence ever since.

Running uphill isn’t good for it. Neither is running downhill. The only real cure, it seems, would be a month of complete rest, but that ain’t in the cards. So, with the help of Coaches Mark and Josh, as well as the vast international runners’ gimmick industry, I have adjusted my mantra from “eat my dust” to “breathe in, breathe out, move on.”

And I’m not kidding about the runner gimmicks. I’ve bought a foam roller to stretch out my ITB, a process so painful I have to remind myself I’m doing it so my leg won’t hurt. Plus an elastic brace for just above the knee to hold the ITB in place so it won’t rub. Come June 5 in Annapolis, I’m going to look like Kevin Costner in Tin Cup.

I’m giving the leg complete rest this week. No running at all before Saturday. This will also give me time to nag the folks who have promised financial support but not come through yet. I’ve filled out my re-commitment papers for TNT, which means I really am going through with this. I will try to find a reasonable middle ground that will get me to the finish line as something other than a limping, staggering mess.

It will probably turn out alright. But remember, Mother Nature always bats last.

And remember, your contributions will not only ease my pain but help fight blood cancers and support some people who are facing real ordeals, every day.