Today I drew the crevé! card. My doctor called this afternoon with test results: I have a stress fracture in my left foot.

I used to play Mille Bornes often. For the unacquainted, it’s a French-import card game. Each player, or driver, takes turns drawing cards representing distances in the hopes of reaching a thousand miles first in the race. Potholes mark the route. One of the pothole-type cards players can draw is crevé, or flat tire (literally, burst).

Two weeks ago today, I was eight miles into a nine-mile run in Vibram FiveFingers — the KSO model (calling them shoes overstates things; they’re more like gloves for your feet), when I felt an unfamiliar tinge of pain near the base of the second toe of my left foot. I noticed, but deemed it more annoying than intense and finished the run. The pain stuck for a few days. The following Monday, I woke with that foot inflated like a balloon. I saw the doctor Tuesday and, based on the range of movement I had, he diagnosed it as likely a tendon issue and asked me to return in a week.

The swelling never quite went down and I continued to limp about. On the return visit, he ordered a bone scan.

First thing in the morning Thursday, my birthday, I found myself getting injected with gamma radiation. The nuclear medicine technician brought out the syringe in a lead flask. The radiation circulated around, stuck to my bones and eventually revealed itself on the whirring scanner. Between that and X-rays of the offending foot, I spent more than half a day at the hospital. Happy birthday to me.

All the while I expected this expensive test would confirm that I just stepped wrong, and all would heal if I’d just give it a few more days. I didn’t prepare myself for the doctor’s call today, but should have. I didn’t think it’d come to this.

It did. The prescription: an obnoxious boot to wear on my foot, to immobilize it and help the healing. No running for at least three more weeks. Training for the Detroit Free Press Marathon will not begin this coming week as scheduled. In fact, outlook for even getting to the starting line looks dim.

Crevé!

Disappointed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel, and I fought the blues all evening. But I’ve drawn a few 100-mile distance cards lately, and should have expected a flat tire to turn up. I’m not invincible — much as I sometimes think — and that’s a lesson I need to learn.

Mille bornes roughly translates to “a thousand milestones,” and this is just another one. With the support of Mrs. Blocletters and Baby Blocletters, I’ll pass this milestone, too.

Here’s hoping the next card I draw is roue de secours, or even increvable.

Three weeks have passed. Recovery stands at about 95 percent, though I still ache in my left shin when I extend my foot too far. My finish time: 5 hours, 22 minutes and 32 seconds.

The Trail Marathon sits in a well-earned first place among the most demanding physical acts I’ve done. I started out slowly, actually following the plenty of advice I’ve gotten on running races. A few miles in, I resigned myself to just finishing, scrapping any pretense or hope of a sub-four. (I’ll always have Detroit, I reasoned.) I settled into a pace of just over 10-minutes a mile, trudged up the hills and worked downhills in the best controlled descent I could muster.

Despite the slow pace, I felt good. The leaves had peeked out since a test run a few weeks prior, and thunderstorms in the forecast held off, leaving a mild, cloudy day — perfect for a long run.

Dark moments in the woods

Then, just shy of Mile 11, I caught my toes on a root, landing with a thud that took the wind out of me and the skin off both knees. When I got to my feet, my dirt-caked knees protested. Fifteen more miles? You’ve got to be joking! I ignored the protests, and ran injured.

The full marathon consists of two 13.1-mile laps. As I neared the midway point, I really thought about quitting. Banged up pretty good and running slower than planned, I thought Mrs. Blocletters might have checked out of the bed and breakfast and made it to the park to cheer me on as I hit the split. I’m glad she wasn’t there. Bruised as I felt, I could easily have stopped and demanded she take me home. I wanted to quit, and might have had she shown up.

A second dark moment came around Mile 19. I don’t know if it’s what you call the wall, since it wasn’t mental, but my on-board fuel couldn’t keep up with the hills. On a wicked uphill, both calves seized up at once and I dropped again. Agony. I stayed on my back for several minutes, unable to move without twitching pain. After that, it took several more minutes of deep stretching to even walk.

All uphill from here

The next few miles sucked. Hard. I walked much of it. Tenderly. Hoping my calves would take me even to the next mile marker. I stopped at Mile 21, fishing a pebble from my shoe. When I got up, I actually felt a lot better — maybe Goo or bananas I’d eaten a few miles back finally kicked in. I wasn’t asking dumb questions. One foot in front of another. Repeat.

Somehow, I could now manage a trot, at least on downhills and the rare level terrain. Each mile, I told myself, got me closer to seeing my girls again. I wasn’t going to keel over in the woods and be picked apart my scavengers. I kept it up to Mile 25, which is all uphill. Where I bounded, despite injury, during the first lap, I now walked.

After that, I knew I could finish. I trotted as best I could, knees singing an aria of pain. On a long wooden bridge about a third of a mile from the finish line, a race volunteer says to me: “Hang in there, man, there’s a cold beer waiting for you.” I imagined a cooler of Coronas just the far side of the finish and was really disappointed to not find one. (Dear race volunteer, don’t say such things to a delirious runner after 25-plus miles.) But I finished. And I wanted to see my girls so badly I almost walked past the woman handing out the medals.

I finished the second half in 3:08:05, a 14-plus minute pace. In addition to being no fun, injuries apparently wreak havoc on your time.

Recovery is a four letter word

I felt great that day. Wrecked and wracked, but great. The next day, I felt even better. On day three, I could barely walk. I don’t know what I did to my shins, but the right stayed angry at me for a few days and the left for more than two weeks. Lots of ice packs and Alleve later, the mending continues. I look forward to running again, probably this week.

One thing’s for sure: The Trail Marathon will make the Detroit Free Press Marathon look like a cakewalk. And for an extra twist, the goal for Detroit is to run in the new Vibram FiveFingers.

Never, ever leave stuff in plain view in a car in Detroit. Mrs. Blocletters has made this point to me numerous times. I had to learn the hard way.

Yesterday, I waited in the repair shop with Baby Blocletters, who was about as patient as a 6-month-old can be in a waiting room. (I tried to impress on her the “inside voice” lesson, but she replied with increasing loud and jovial “Ya, ya, yaaAAAAHHHs,” much to the amusement of the women behind the counter and other people waiting.) A waste of sperm and eggs had smashed the back passenger-side window of my new Toyota on Saturday, and taken our overnight bags. We were ready to head out of town for Sunday’s Trail Marathon*, and I had thrown our bags in the back seat before heading downtown for an errand.

Dumb move.

I parked on Griswold downtown, a block from the Penobscot. Did I mention it was 3:30 in the afternoon? And that we were away from the vehicle a grand total of 32 minutes? Neither of those facts can substitute for shouldaknownbetter.

The repair shop made the truck whole. Mrs. Blocletters made a point after the race of taking me to Running Fit to get a new water belt for long runs, which makes me feel a bit better. I wish I could bring back the sentimental things my wife lost. I wish I could shake that fist-to-the-gut feeling of violation. I miss my good luck charm, and I’ll reach for my Leatherman for a honey-do sometime soon and whimper a little. Hard lessons suck.

And, to the person who did this: Karma will shine on you, but I don’t think you’ll like it when it does. Hard lessons suck.

* I finished 121 out of 165 entrants in a chip time of 5:22:32. Definitely not the finish I’d hoped for, but I took a bad tumble at mile 11 and hobbled through the remaining 15.2 miles with singing pain in both knees. Regardless, I finished, and I’m proud. Next race: Detroit, where I’ll make sure to stash my running kit out of site when I park.

Time-wise, I’m halfway through the marathon training, and thought I’d take a moment to review and reflect. I fell short just one of those eight weeks, the first one, where I ran 11 of 14 miles. The other seven weeks, I hit or just passed the mark. In total, I’ve run 155.52 of 156 scheduled miles since training began Dec. 1.

Last Friday’s run topped 12 miles, the longest long run so far in the schedule. This week, the long run is 13 miles, which ties my two longest outings since I took up running — last October’s Brooksie half marathon and a training run I did a few weeks before that race. After this week, I cut back for a week, then tackle a week that’ll have me topping my longest distance yet with a long run of 14 miles. The 14-mile week, though, will be bisected by a Caribbean vacation, so that new personal best distance will wait until the third weekend of February.

My pace so far has hovered between about 7 and 9 minutes a mile. Most often, I run in the the 7-8 minute a mile frame; the 9-minute outlier was on a really slushy day. I’ve tried to keep most of the training under 7:30. To qualify for the 2010 Boston Marathon, I’d need to finish the race I finally choose in 3:15:59, a 7:28 pace. While a Boston time would be nice, I’ll call it a success if I pass the finish line. Plus, I’m not even sure I’d run a Boston even if I did qualify.

Weather and a few minor but persistent blisters have complicated training. I’ve had a couple of runs in conditions I can only describe as wicked: single digits, wind and slush. Slush tops the sh*t list. Cold and wind I can deal with, but treacherous footing makes running unfun. I spend as much energy staying on my feet as I do pushing my body forward. It gets tiring. The blisters … well, are blisters ever any fun? But, if that’s the worst, I can handle this.

Eight weeks down, eight to go. Distance-wise, it’s another story. The next eight weeks will see me covering 264 miles for a total of 420 during the 16-week schedule. Feet, don’t fail me now.

Really, I didn’t mean for this to become only a running blog. But the subject keeps popping to the top of my head, so I’ll run with it. (Okay, you’re right. That was dumb.)

Here I am a month in to training. Weather extremes bookend my progress so far. I started during a week I spent in Florida, sprinting along St. Petersburg’s bay shore in 70-degree weather. I slogged through the fourth run of my fourth week, a 4-miler, Sunday in my hometown of Saginaw, Mich. The wind whipped across open fields on one side of the road in 30-plus mile gusts, making the upper-20s temperature feel a helluva lot colder. I think that last one earned me a deserved spot in a loony bin running merit badge. It at least earned me 20 miles for the week.

Santa brought me a bunch of goodies to fill out the running kit: space-age polymer pants and long-sleeve shirt for harsh weather; a jacket; wicking socks; wicking skull cap; and a mini wallet to strap to my shoe. (Okay, so the last two I bought myself, but Santa can’t always fit everything into his sack.) The pants and shirt got their trial run Sunday and I was amazed at how warm they kept me.

With all this Christmas booty, I’m much more prepared for the next two months of cold-weather training. Next week’s a cutback week of 15 miles with a 6-mile long run, then I step it up for 22 miles in week six with a 9-mile long run.

I’ve been thrilled with training results so far. Over the month, I’ve averaged 7:44 per mile, which translates to a marathon in just under 3 hours, 23 minutes if I can maintain. During my half marathon in October, I ran about 40 or 50 seconds faster than I trained. I kinda hope that’s the case this time out. If so, I could manage a Boston qualifier on my first marathon. While that’d be nice, I’m just going to focus on finishing and try not to worry too much about a target time.

In non-running related gifts, I got a new fly pole, a fly-tying vise and materials, Simpsons X, and an array of other loot. Thanks, guys, you’re the best.

I put together this audio slideshow during a recent seminar at the Poynter Institute in St. Petersburg, Fla. I recorded all of the audio and captured all of the images on my iPhone.

I whittled down about 180 photographs and 30-plus minutes of audio into the 2:37 presentation using Soundslides. Hope you enjoy it.

This arrived in my email just now.

Not sure why it says 8,989 finishers, when my earlier post and the results I see on the Brooksie site say 2,337 finished the half marathon. I guess the higher number includes the 5K too.

Update: They sent out corrected race certificates today, broken down by race. In the half marathon, 2,337 finishers.

Ahh, time off. Since finishing the Brooksie Way Half Marathon last month, I lightened up on running, laid off blogging and looked forward.

I’ve read three or four books on the marathon distance as research for how to train, and spoken with every runner who’d listen. Training programs seem about as numerous as runners, so I lean toward crafting my own based on my fitness level, available time for training and other factors. Given that I can now run 9 miles without much of a problem, I figure I should be able to build myself up to a 20-mile long run over about 14 weeks, with a two-week taper leading up to the race. That means my training begins somewhere between the first week of December and the second week of January, depending on the race. Brrrr. That means long-sleeve running gear for Christmas, folks.

I haven’t decided which race yet. I previously mentioned Bayshore (May 23) and Martian (April 4), but Toledo, held on April 26th, is now on the radar too. That one’s less of a drive than Bayshore and bigger than Martian. At this point, I’m conflicted about how important a big crowd might be in helping me cross the finish line. Decisions, decisions.

My two readers know all too well that for several months I’ve been training for the Brooksie Way Half Marathon — my first race. The race was Sunday, Oct. 5, 2008, and after a few days of recovery I can finally get around to blogging about the finish. Here’s how I did.

• Chip time: 1:40:46
• Clock time: 1:41:01
• Overall finish: 233rd out of 2,337
• Finish by gender: 208th out of 1,155
• Finish by division (men, 35-39): 43rd out of 197
• Pace: about 7:41 per mile

My first reaction: I finished much better than I imagined I would. My second reaction: I’ll be running more races.

On the first point, I surprised myself. During all the training I did my pace was about 8:30. That pace significantly improved during the race, I presume due to adrenaline, the pace of the crowd and the fact that people lined the race route cheering on the runners. I had hoped to finish in under two hours, with 1:50 being the “wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if” goal. Finishing in 1:41 was icing.

On the second point, a marathon is the next obvious target. The Martian Marathon, which runs through Dearborn on April 4, 2009, might be it. That may prove too soon, given that it’s just six months away, and most of that time falls into the worst part of the year to train outside. On the other hand, the Detroit Free Press Marathon in October 2009 seems a little far out. Another option is the Bayshore Marathon up in Traverse City, on May 23, but I’d have to travel for that one. I have time to think: I’m taking the next two or three weeks off from running (at least any long distance).

In the meantime, I plan to run vicariously through reading A Race Like No Other, Liz Robbins’ account of the New York City Marathon. She writes about sports for the New York Times.

Many thanks to Mrs. Blocletters for her support, and also to the folks who’ve given me attaboys over the last few days on Facebook and in person.

P.S.: I wish I had found this article before the race. I guess I had to learn to check out the course prior to running a race. I had no idea that the Brooksie was half uphill and half downhill. But, that just means my time will be better when I get to a flatter course.

I spaced on posting last week’s total, and I’m calling this week done, so I thought I’d just combine the weeks.

• Sunday, Sept. 21, 7 miles
• Wednesday, Sept. 24, 9 miles

Weekly total: 16 miles

• Monday, Sept. 29, 9 miles
• Thursday, Oct. 2, 2 miles

Weekly total: 11 miles. I made this week a light week to give myself a chance to recover and build my strength back up for Sunday’s race. On Monday’s 9-miler, I added a pulled something-or-other behind my right knee to the insistent pain on the front and side of that knee. Since then, I’ve been alternating stretches with slathering my knee in Tiger Balm (truly a miracle product).

I added a little weight training to today’s light 2-miler at the YMCA, working through my irrational fear of those imposing-looking machines. Nothing too strenuous, but it’s a start, and something I can continue to work on after the race.