David Levine, coach of the LA Roadrunners (“the official training program for the LA Marathon!”) was understandably disappointed when I informed him of my injury back in August. But it was a blessing in disguise because he needed volunteers to help run the water tables during our Saturday long runs. And as a pace leader, expected to motivate, guide, and ultimately pace runners who wanted to run the LA Marathon at ten minutes per mile pace, naturally I was expected to volunteer. Which I did. Grudgingly, but with a smile on my face every Saturday morning as I watched my group, led by other pace leaders on my team, head out for a shared adventure knowing I would be somewhere along the course to hand water to them when they ran by.

Shortly after my appointment with my orthopedist, my Achilles pain began to subside. Shocked, shocked I was, as a pain that remained pretty much at a constant 3-4 out of 10 scale began to subside to a 3, then a 2, then — to my utter astonishment, a 0. No pain at all. Perhaps it was the Naproxen horse pill he prescribed for me to take twice daily (“don’t do any running for 7-10 days, take the Naproxen twice daily, and allow the nerves to settle down,” he counseled). Perhaps it was the fact that I had begun to do daily eccentric heel drops, prescribed by Dr. Google (always a dangerous source of advice!). Perhaps it was just the fact that knowing I was beginning physical therapy convinced me that my issue was understood, “heard,” empathized with, by a medical professional who knew from whence he spoke.

I showed up on that first day at physical therapy, knowing that I would be “seen,” that my issue would be acknowledged and treated. This was perhaps part of the reason my pain essentially disappeared. Of course, a mild Achilles injury is not cancer or a major illness, so I felt a bit guilty that I was seeking, and finding, relief from my petty issue when so many more people with far more dire consequences than mine, were traveling a more treacherous road. I assuaged my more privileged position with the idea that perhaps I would encounter a serious medical issue at some point later in life. Not a pleasant thought, but the future is unknown to all of us. So taking care of myself at the moment seemed the proper course to take.

Feeling a bit antsy to try out my healing tendon, I placed some heel wedges in my running shoes and went on short, easy runs. Within about ten days, I risked a ten mile run up Sycamore Canyon in Malibu, praying fervently that this extended jaunt would not set me back. It didn’t.

Elated, I asked Coach David about entering the Santa Monica Classic 5k race to get an idea of how I was healing. He agreed with a bit of caution. “I have three goals for you, Duane: Run this race easy, cross the finish line uninjured, and enjoy the post race pancakes.”

Worked for me.

An easy jog the day before to pick up my race bib at a local Big 5 Sporting Goods store near my home gave me some relief that I was still able to run without pain, and I slept fitfully that night, arriving at the starting line, mask in hand, ready to see what running an easy race would feel like.

Used the bathroom one last time. Listened to the national anthem. Adjusted the heel wedges in my shoes to make sure they were in the right place. Endured the announcer’s overly cheery time killing banter before the race director decided that enough was enough, fired the starting gun, and sent us on our way.

How thrilling it was to follow a close packed herd of runners stampeding down the narrow streets before turning onto Ocean Blvd, the main race route! My heel wedges stayed in place and I felt my body’s desire to surge, cut loose and floor the gas pedal. How proud I was of myself that I eased back. After all, I wasn’t going to win an age place medal at this race, anyway, after not running for several weeks. I was here for the experience, for the relief I felt that my racing days were indeed just beginning, not fading into the sunset.

Besides, at a lethargic nine minutes per mile pace, my heart was already pounding deep into Zone 3, tempo effort. I sighed. Just endure. Just cross the finish line. Enjoy the pancakes at the end.

27:49 for the 5k route. An even nine minute mile pace. Eighth place for my age group. Based on my fitness before injury, I could have easily beaten the second place age group finisher’s 24:01 time by a full 90 seconds and captured silver. No way would I have come even close to the 18:57 time the first place finisher ran.

But that’s ok. I’ll get there.