These were posted on Loopsters.org, but I felt compelled to log them here as well. Maybe it will be for the sole sake of my own reflection. Maybe some random person will stumble upon it and feel a little more normal dealing with their own injury. I've Googled the hell out of trying to find people with a similar story in hopes that they would also have a positive outcome. Everyone likes a happy ending. I'm not there yet, but still holding hope that things are moving in the right direction.
Post 1
"Don't regret anything. At one time, it was exactly what you wanted."
B1 is still so fresh on the mind, so fresh on the body that it is
almost too easy to make correlations between the two. And while the
physical implications are ripe with similarities, my mind is a
completely different spot. It's liberating that I don't feel the same
darkness looming over me. I cannot pinpoint exactly what I was afraid of
except that it was fear of the unknown. The uncertainty of when I would
run again. The uncertainty of finishing the year's biggest race. The
uncertainty of the weeks that followed. The uncertainty of this thing
that had defined me for so long that I truly struggled with coping
without it.
It is a classic case of too much, too soon with the possibility of an
old injury hampering my efforts.
A VO2 max ready to climb mountains and
bones that said "hell no!" I was so anxious to get back to the same
level that I didn't see that I had to complete steps B through Y. I just
thought I'd go from A to Z. Looking back, I was aware of my own
reckless behavior and aware of the potential consequences. I got part of
the results I wanted: finish
Boston
and successfully pace Lauren at CJ100.
The downside is that I likely
overcompensated with my (formerly) good right side and wound up with a
stress reaction* in my right tibia.
*I'm not even sure we are calling it that - the bone scan showed it
was likely not just a soft tissue thing, but there were no definite
cracks either. The x-ray was inconclusive as these things often are with
stress reactions/fractures. The good news is that I've had no official
breaks or even cracks seen.
The bad news is that something (um, probably
overracing the first time and too much, too soon the second time) is
making my bones angry.
If we were to backtrack to about a year ago, I would relay the story of
whacking my right tibia so hard on a stone planter that I bled though a
pair of khakis. The bruising that followed was nothing short of epic.
Over the course of the next year, that spot seemed to get angry from
time to time, but never appeared to impact my running. It was just this
funny little bump on my shin that almost looked like the blood vessel
was swollen. I'd run my finger over it and it would feel like a bruise -
tender and mildly irritating, about a 2 on the pain scale. I have no
idea if it is related to this, but certainly didn't help.
Flash forward to June 2018 when the same area started to hurt again.
The thing about most running injuries is that they typically are not
pinpointed to one particular run or instance. They often start out with
teeny niggles of pain and creep their way further in until you cannot
ignore them any longer. My mind was slightly more attuned to watching
out for these warning signs, but admittedly, I wanted to just keep
marching on into my normal summer running. It was just 2 weeks ago that I
somehow thought I was ready to jump back into weekly double digit
runs.
But by that weekend, I had the ominous feeling that I was to be facing another DL sentence.
I cross-trained early in the week and by the time I had the bone scan
on Friday, I decided to just take an entire week off of exercising. A
whole week. No cross-training. No weight-lifting.
The following Monday, the podiatrist told me to drop by for another
boot - I needed a taller version to protect my tibia - and to schedule a
follow up appointment in 4 weeks. In my permanently optimistic brain, I
am hoping that the 4 week time period means there is a slight
possibility that I won't have to wear it after 4 weeks. After all, my
foot recheck was at 3 weeks and I was sentenced to another 3 weeks
after! But using that logic, I would be booted this time for a total of 8
weeks. <insert cringe face here>
Honestly, it doesn't hurt in the same way that my foot did. I'm sure
part of that is because it is a different bone (duh), but also, I am
hoping because I caught it early enough, it won't have suffered as
much damage. Walking doesn't seem to bother it and I'm not changing my
gait while walking because of it. In fact, it really only started to
bother me towards the end of my runs and later in the day. The straw
that broke the camel's back? It started to ache when I was just sitting
around in the evening and lying in bed.
During the first weeks of B1, I threw all of my angry energy into
working out. I went from running 60 mile weeks to zero. I had a lot of
extra time and energy on my hand. Plus, I was so pissed that I was
injured that I was determined to make my body stronger. I can't say I
have regrets about any of it because I do believe it helped me finish
Boston.
But perhaps a little more R&R could have been beneficial if I had
been able to channel some of that energy later. I ended up spending more
hours per week working out while booted than I usually did while
running!
In any regard, when I received the news last Monday that I was going to
be booted again, I had a much different outlook than B1. Being in the
middle of an exercise hiatus helped (pats self on back for forced
laziness). But also knowing the value of myself as a (hopefully
temporarily) non-runner was huge. I'd happily taken on this persona of
runner girl and let the other pieces of me just kind of fall out where
they could. When I couldn't run, I was so stressed out about not running
that I was a mess.
B2 is different already. I'm working out again, but don't feel
compelled to reach the same levels I did during B1. I obviously want to
return to running as quickly as possibly so some movement over the next 4
(....to 8, FML) weeks will be good. I just don't have to go nuts. Also,
B2 is happening during summer which is a loathsome time to be running
in Georgia anyway. I miss those long, hard, hot days on the trails like
you wouldn't believe, but there will be more of those. The runner girl
will return, but she will hopefully have an even rosier outlook than
before.
One likes to think there are reasons for this kind of thing happen.
Reasons give us validation and purpose when life throws frustrating
stuff our way. I don't know if there are reasons (beyond the science of
overusing my body) that I feel strongly about with this hiccup. It has
given me a chance to look at other areas of my life with a little more
clarity. It has provided me with a bit more empathy. It has made me
realize I'll be okay if I'm not running.
I am taking note of the progress I have made this year in other aspects
of life and being grateful for what I have accomplished thus far. I set
out 10 goals for myself in January:
-
Volunteer/Crew/Pace >5 races (7 total!)
- Marathon <3:10
-
Strength or stretch >30 minutes weekly (24 of 24 weeks so far)
-
Master InDesign
-
12 new recipes (8 total)
-
Read >20 books (18 total)
-
200,000 impressions on LinkedIn
-
100 mile race (not in 24 hours)
-
Prepare financially/fiscally for Everest Marathon 2019 (halfway to financial goal)
-
Camp 2+ nights (1 night...ish)
-
Finish the GA Appalachian Trail
Post 2
7-12-18
There is an ebb and flow in this injury. I’ve rallied to feel
optimistic about the outlook. To be out of the boot faster. To feel like
bones have stopped hurting. To get a sense of a timeline going into the
other half of the year.
I’ve got plans. But it seems like my body is trying to
halt me. At times, I think I’m being overly paranoid, like I should just
buck up and accept the pain. It’s not like I can’t run or I can’t walk. But then I realize the stupidity of my thought process when I realize that I can feel the pain when I am just sitting.
It is worse at night. Even on the days that it seems like I’ve only walked from my car to my cube and back.
Maybe I need another hiatus from exercise?
But I know how much better I feel when I get my heartrate
up. I like pushing myself to the point that I feel sweat dripping off my
nose. It’s like, it hurts so good. I realize that this sounds a bit
wacky if you aren’t into running or exercise.
The week off was good for a bit of mental clarity. I knew it was good to realize that running doesn’t define me.
But gosh, I miss it.
NYC (early November), in theory, should be easier to manage than
Boston given the amount of time I will have. But I’ve really just been
going through the motions of exercising here and there, biding my time
to run again. I haven’t been putting hours of cardio in at the gym or at
home. I’ve been putting in enough to offset the containers of Ben &
Jerry’s just enough to keep from buying new pants.
After NYC, there is Rehoboth (early December). And what is a
really-bad-idea-because-I-fear-a-repeat, I have the opportunity to run
in the JAX (mid-December) marathon again.
The reality is that I don’t have to do any of these things. But I really want to. Like when someone brings in cake to work, I don’t have to take a piece. But I really want to.
The past 6 months have been riddled with FOMO. I feel guilty at
times for even thinking that way as I hope to continue (albeit more
slowly) my running and have this drift into the past. But I want to be
exhausted from high mileage, taking trips into the mountains every
weekend, complaining about the heat, and becoming a few dollars poorer
every time I visit Ultrasignup.
I did put my name into the hat for GDR after unsuccessfully
biding myself as an elite entry. It’s next March if I get in. If not,
well, I guess I need to figure something else out for a WS entry. Seems a
bit unreasonable when I look at my miserable training log of 2018, but a
girl’s gotta dream?
Speaking of dreams, I finally got the green light from HR about
Everest next year. I just need to put my deposit down to make it
officially official. I’ll admit that I would be a lot more excited about
it if I didn’t have a darn boot on my leg. So I’m waiting until I
actually am walking without any attachments before I plunk down a lot of
money.
It’s good to have these things to look forward to even if I am
nervous about getting my body in shape to complete them all. Mentally, I
feel 100% ready to tackle it all. In fact, I would argue that is what
is going to be the hardest part of getting back to it. There are so many
races and so many adventures and I feel like I’ve been missing out.
Abiding by a healthy timeline is going to be hard. But necessary.
I really don’t want to be back in the situation again. Even going for a
short walk without pain is something I feel like I don’t remember how
to do.
I’m not spiritual, but if I were, I could imagine shaking my
fists at the sky seething, “what else you got?” And then shaking my head
when I am handed a painful skin condition while I’m in the boot.
Look, I’m not dying, I have a roof over my head, a good job, lots
of great friends, a close family, and am generally happy. I hate to
complain because perfection doesn’t exist. I just hope that I have a
greater appreciation for when my body decides to cooperate once again.
I had just come from the podiatrist who told me 2 more weeks in
the boot and thought I would give the surgeon’s office another call. My
general physician needed to send a referral and apparently this process
was very painful for both parties. I had already been through 10
days of antibiotics and they were demanding I was infection-free before
coming for a consultation appointment.
So, I need to go back to my doctor for them to tell you that I
don’t have an infection for the thing that I might need to have surgery
on?
Let’s just say that I was near the end of my rope. After working
in customer service for so long, I try to not let people get under my
skin, but I had been chasing down people for 2 weeks now over this very
painful issue. I asked her what her name was in that
very-bitchy-I’m-telling-on-you way. In the midst of calling my general
physician back, she called me back in a much different tone and offered
to make an appointment because she said she had spoken with the nurse.
Weird, but okay….I just hope that the doctor is not like his
office staff. Or maybe she was having a couple of bad days every time I
talked to her.
I go to the surgeon’s office today and the person greeting me is like, oh yeah, we all know you when I tell her my name. I’m seething inside, but channel my inner Michelle Obama and choose to go high
when they go low.
This is second time I’ve ever had a referral for anything
in my life and yeah, I’m kind of pissy because I’m in pain. And I’ve
been in pain for weeks and no one seems to want to return a phone call
or give me a straight answer. So, excuse me while I sit over in this
uncomfortable chair and sulk about it.
The surgeon tells me I could have it removed and it would be a
relatively quick and easy procedure. But he also tells me it is very
likely to come back. And I can’t have it removed until it is really,
really quieted down.
So basically, when I’ve forgotten about it?
Yeah, I know…it’s not ideal, but we cannot risk surgery with it being potentially infected.
I definitely understand unfortunately. And it does seem to be
less angry now. I don’t know if I will have the surgery just knowing
that it could come back. And if it lies dormant most of the year and
flares up every 12-18 months, I now know to just go get some
antibiotics. Also, I’m suuuuuupppper aware that I am way more sensitive
about it now because of my boot.
Because I can’t even run to try to kabash my pissy emotions.
7-17-18
I had intentions of working out on our family vacation to Kansas.
If I were running, it would be a no-brainer to slip out the door in the
early hours of the morning and crank out the miles before anyone wakes
up. Vacation and morning running seem to oddly agree with me.
But I just didn’t feel like working out. I slept, I chased my
nephew around the playground in 100°+ weather, I held my niece so my
sister could take a shower, and I just didn’t worry about it.
I went back and forth about wearing my boot and ultimately only
didn’t wear it for a 20-minute jaunt to Wal-Mart for picnic supplies.
Otherwise, I wore that sucker pretty much any time I was weight-bearing.
I am going to an outdoor concert on Saturday and plan to go
bootless. And then I intend to go into the next week seeing how I feel
without it. The doc wants me to walk around for 2 weeks and then get
another x-ray to see how things look. I’m waiting for the day that I can
walk around without remembering that something hurts. Let’s hope that
day comes quickly so I feel confident to start running.
I got picked for GDR in March 2019! Which also means that I need
to find a 50K in between now and February to run. The timing is kind of
crappy with fall/winter marathons on the calendar, but really, I need
some more mileage by early next year anyway. So maybe January?
I hate this feeling of being all wishy-washy with races. I used
to be wishy-washy because I didn’t know if I had the weekend off to
race. Now I’m wishy-washy because my bones suck. I don’t like being
wishy-washy.
Silver linings, though? I think 12 weeks in the boot this year
will give me all the mental fuel I will need to make the next chapter
so, so good. The goal for the second half of 2018? STAYOUTOFTHEBOOT
Post 3
7-18-18
A few (maybe more?) years ago, I was on the interwebs and
stumbled across the Georgia Death
Race.
At the time, it seemed
unfathomable to “run” something so difficult. Who in the world would
ever be able to do such a thing?
And here I am signed up for this race.
There is a correlation in the time I read a piece by Lisa Jhung.
She carelessly tossed around “hilly 16 miler” like it was a walk down
the street and I was in awe that someone could do such a thing and still
go about their day like a normal person. This was obviously well before
I signed up for my first marathon. But I remember it distinctly because
I wanted to know what it felt like to be able to do something so awesome with ease.
And I’ll admit that over the years the long runs, marathons, and
ultras seemed to just become more flippant. Not that I wasn’t working
hard to maintain a certain level of fitness. I always respected the
distance. But I did start to see marathons as just stepping stones in
the process of completing more ultras.
After finishing that first 26.2 though, I never have really had
much doubt about completing a distance. Sure, I’ve had thoughts in the
moment about continuing the race. But I’ve never actually felt like I
signed up for something that I wasn’t sure of finishing.
Even the first 24 hour/100 miler. There was a bit of fear of the
unknown after the 100K mark. I knew things were going to get tough and I
wasn’t quite sure what to expect both mentally and physically.
But I
think I always knew that I was capable of doing it.
Which is what led me to thinking after this last 24-hour race
that I really needed to just get myself out of going after the “easy”
stuff. I put a true 100-mile race on my goal list along with a fast
marathon. Both really were not unachievable, especially considering 2016
& 2017.
When I was first injured back in February, I started seeking out
the gnarliest races possible. Crazy
elevation and distances. Seemed
totally reasonable to be in a boot and dreaming about 40,000’ of gain.
There is this weird line of wanting to do things that are really hard
and knowing what your body is capable of. I think I’ve always waiting
until I was beyond ready to go after a goal. So, I felt the need to
jostle it up a bit.
But now I kind of find myself back at square one. I’m not saying
that it isn’t possible to get my fitness and endurance back up, but I do
know it will probably be months even in the best conditions to feel
somewhat normal again.
7-19-18
I’m getting wordy now. It happens. If I can’t run, at least I can
write. Running arguably leaves me feeling much better, but writing
seems to be relatively injury-free. <Insert carpal tunnel foreboding
thought here>
I should be creatively thinking about other things, but my brain
is kind of tapped out at the moment. There is a lot bubbling up there
right now. Excitement about the boot removal, fear of effing myself up
again, how to manage pain, how to know what is normal, how to know what
is detrimental, etc., etc.
I know there will be good days and bad. I know I will likely feel
something that makes me say ohshitohshitohshit. I know I will do
something really stupid. I know that I will back off even when I don’t
need to.
I was thinking this morning as I walked into the bathroom
half-awake that I missed 2016 Carissa. I had pulled a glass out of the
cabinet last night to enjoy an IPA that a coworker brought back from
Indiana. I chose a glass from the last 50 miler I did which was in
Indiana. It was more of a last-minute whim that I decided to race. Man,
what I would give to be in jumps-into-50-milers shape right now.
Mind you, it took a few years of consistent work to get to that
point. I felt good because I interspersed the racing and big goals with
fun running. But then I got greedy and wanted more, MORE, MORE!
This will be the hard. I still want more.
It’s going to be tough to run just to run. For the last 5ish
years, I’ve been jumping from race to race without any real down time.
There was something always near on the horizon. I would say I learned my
lesson, but I don’t want to live cautiously forever. I mean, I don’t
want to live in the boot forever either. What’s a girl to do?
It seems like advice comes out of the woodwork when things are
not peachy keen. I’ve decided at age 36 that I’m disagreeable to getting
advised. Maybe that makes me a stubborn jerkface. Oh well.
It’s kind of a liberating feeling when you stop worrying about
what other people think. I can still be kind and thoughtful, but I don’t
have to pretend. I’ve never been a good liar. You will likely know if I
like you or not.
I digress.
Back to running. I have my little “plan” set up for next week and
let’s be honest, the weeks following until NYC. But I have no idea what
it truly will look like from week to week. In some regards I wish I had
a coach to just keep me from hurting myself, but that kind of goes
against my whole disagreeable-to-getting-advised. And would I actually be honest with him/her?
I dunno. I feel like I have a few people that I talk to about my
running that I can be 100% honest about how I feel/what I want and they
aren’t trying to give me advice with every conversation. Oh, and I can
freely bitch in my running log. Even if the pain is microscopic, I can
complain. And I do want it noted because I actually see where I started
feeling tibial pain this last go ‘round.
7-23-18
The boot is off.
It should be followed by an exclamation point, but I don’t know
that I feel it is worthy of that until I have my first pain-free run.
And I need to get to the point that I am doing pain-free walking first.
I think I had felt mostly better when I got out of the boot the
last time. Like, I wasn’t super worried about going for a run because I
wasn’t still nursing the injury.
But this time my FF hurts and the FT seems to be mostly okay. I hate waiting and my heart is so ready to run, but I am really trying to not be stupid.
So I’m still sitting at work. I’ve got the metatarsal pad back
on. I will take it one day at a time when it comes to weight-bearing
exercise. I’m waiting for the day that I wake up and things are not in
pain.
Saturday, I had a lot of FF pain. It was really bothering me and I
took each step from the parking garage to the stadium with ease. I sat
during most of the concert save for the last hour or so when it finally
seemed to be a little less painful. Paired with a summer cold leaving me
with laryngitis, the inability to shout, the heat of the day, and the
tiny chairs crammed in together, I was not having a great time TBH.
Plus, I was super conscious of the balance of staying hydrated enough to
pass out, but not hydrated enough to stand in line for the bathroom all
evening. Very annoying when I was trying to flush out a cold.
I had spent most of the day Saturday just laying around. It made
me feel a teeny bit guilty that I didn’t do much, but I also knew it was
going to be a long night.
Sunday, I slept in really late. My FF actually felt pretty good
all day, but I didn’t want to press my luck. I decided to just do an arm
Tabata workout and part of a core workout. I stood for a few of the arm
exercises that are more awkward sitting, but also made sure that I
didn’t do too many of them standing.
I piddled around the house cooking, doing laundry, etc. and was
on my feet for a bit, but I barely had over 3,000 steps for the day.
I’m not really sure if being barefoot or having shoes on is
better at this point. The pressure of the shoe on the top of my foot is
pretty annoying sometimes, but I think the support of a harder soled
shoe is better. Seems like every other day is a different feeling.
It made me think about Boston when my foot was killing me the day
of the expo, but then I actually felt pretty good the day I ran?
Of course, I miss running a lot, but I also just miss being able
to do my daily activities without pain. Even just walking around like a
normal person is something that I haven’t been able to do for quite some
time.
7-24-18
Oh. Em. Gee. There might be light at the end of the tunnel?? I don’t want to get too excited, but let’s face it, I am too excited.
Today marks the first day in quite a long time that my foot and leg did
not seems to be bothering me AND I can walk like a normal person.
I was almost thinking that I was never going to know what that
felt like again. Dramatic for someone who ran paced someone for 30 miles
in May and ran the Boston Marathon in April. I know.
But I haven’t felt good about anything related to my running in about 8 weeks so excusemewhileIenjoythis.
I really want to just go run right now. But I think I need
to wait at least another day before attempting.
I know it is going to
be a pretty awful and amazing experience. Awful because I’m going to be
ridiculously out of shape. Amazing because, well, running!
I am going to head to the gym tonight to get muh HR up a bit on
some torturous cardio machine. It seems like my willpower to withstand
them gets tinier by the day. But maybe if my body is actually feeling
decent, it might suck less? I dunno, I don’t want to do anything to
hamper my first run experience, so I’m tempted to just try to keep it as
easy as possible (famous last words).
7-26-18
I used the arc trainer for 45 minutes (plus a 5-minute cool down)
on Tuesday and my FF seemed to be a bit agitated about the situation.
It was feeling tender afterwards through my strength workout, so I
maintained the sitting position through my reps.
Yesterday, I wore the metatarsal pad all day and sneakers to
work. It’s not like I walk around much at all, but my foot was feeling
achy and I couldn’t shake the feeling that is was swollen. It wasn’t,
but the pad makes my foot feel stuffed in my shoe even with the laces
loosened.
Anyway, I took the pad off yesterday on my commute home. I ran into Target quickly
and it seemed to feel better. So, I went for a walk at the rec center
at a pace best described as leisurely, but not lazy. It actually seemed
to feel okay about 10 minutes into the walk but then
felt-better-than-before-but-worse-than-in-the-middle afterwards.
I kind of thought about going for a 10 second jog in the middle
of the walk. But geez, I’m so afraid of effing something up that I just
had to tell myself NO! The timeline is not tight, and I only stand to lose at this point.
Today, the FF seems to be more cooperative. I was actually
supposed to get my boot off Tuesday and in my original plans, I hoped to
do a bit of running by Friday. But the doc wanted me to just walk
around for 2 weeks. I’m torn between getting a better cardio workout and
adhering to the doctor’s orders versus getting the chance to run!
Like, when I think about it, what idiot actually wants to be running?
*Raises hand like the biggest brown-noser in the class*
But I’m anxious to try even a little bit. This waiting stuff is for the birds.
7-27-18
I ran. For 23 minutes & 35 glorious seconds. It was super
slow. It was a mere 2 miles. But it felt so good to just fall into the
rhythm of running. Gosh, I knew I missed it, but I couldn’t wipe the
shit-eating grin off my face for the first 5 minutes.
Things felt mostly good through the run. FF was a little sore,
but not really noticeable. FT was a little more noticeable, or so I
thought. I realized afterwards that it wasn’t the same spot that I was
feeling, but rather the outside of my shin which is likely due to um,
not using it for almost 2 months.
Feeling no worse for the wear and having the happy endorphins of
running coursing through my body made me very well, content. I was kind
of relieved that everything went off rather unremarkably and that stupid
Alanis song Hand in my Pocket was playing as I made the short drive from the rec center home. Everything’s going to be fine, fine, fine.
But then Adam gave me the face when I got home. It’s the
most annoying and best thing about marriage is that your person knows
you. They know your faults, they know your weaknesses, and they for
better or worse, care about you. I think about when I used to nag him
all the time about his smoking and he would just trying to weasel out of
the conversation by changing the subject. I immediately felt the flight upon seeing his face and practically bolted upstairs to do an arm workout.
Eventually, I had to face the music though. When we headed out to dinner, I fought the flight and started to fight
when he broached the subject. He knew the doctor wanted me to wait
until I was seen again to start running. And he knew that I knew it was
reckless for me to running. I tried to negotiate at first. With him,
with myself. There’s no gym equipment that gives me the same feeling as
running. It’s like pacifying a cigarette smoker with bubble gum.
I’m not sure where my emotions left off. We are in the point of
marriage where even the dicey stuff comes to halt rather quickly as I
think it’s easier to remember that stewing gets you nowhere. He kind of
left it with letting his feelings be known and me acknowledging that I
was not happy about his grievances, but I was taking them to heart.
And my decision about running for the next 10 days?
TBD.
On one hand, I feel like I have it out of my system for at least a
few days. And while it wasn’t fast or long, the fluidity and motions of
running felt as good as they always did. I didn’t struggle with
breathing. My heart felt happy. My legs and arms remembered what to do.
So, will it buy me at least 10 more days of bench time?
Probably not, if I’m being honest with myself.
But maybe it will give me every 2-3 days and I can ‘fess up my
crime with only minimal infractions.
I’m halfway tempted to call the
doctor to see if they can get me in sooner.
In the meantime, at least I feel a little better about getting on
those godforsaken cardio machines with the knowledge that running will
be in the near future. And I probably can get a better workout on them
simply because I shouldn’t be pushing myself with the load-bearing stuff
anyway.
And walking is good, so I can at least incorporate that into my
life. Funny how you don’t appreciate a good walk until you can’t do it.
After dinner, Adam told me that he has days that he feels good
and that he could do a little bit of walking. But that he has days that
things still feel pretty blah. So, I was trying to pry out of him
whether he wanted me to ask him about going for a walk or let him figure
it out on his.
I think we both know that left to his own devices, he is likely
not going to do it by himself. It’s just not a habit for him. I’d like
to think that could change, but I also don’t want to get too hopeful.
It’s so easy that we get stuck in our ways (hello running girl!) and find it impossible to navigate the new normal.
So, while I’m doing a bit of recovery myself, I will be attempting to see if he can start walking again.
It would be really great if he could go back to the BAA 5K and
finished what he started. But I also don’t want to push my own agenda on
him – easier said than done.
7-27-18 prose
I chose my dirtiest, most worn shoes. They look like they should
have been tossed out 500 miles ago and are almost over-the-top in their
state of deterioration. But a friend suggested I would crave the comfort
of the ones that have served me well over the year.
The caked-on dirt full of memories had to be shaken out once
before I even started running. The interior sides both ripped behind the
big hole were not a deterrent, even on the sandy trail. I laced them up
like I had done thousands of times before, standing at the crossroads
of before and after.
It was only a big deal to me.
But I made myself walk to my favorite section of flat trail that
heads due west for about 50 meters. Then I picked up my shoulders like I
was sighing heavily and dropped into a run.
I expected it to feel sloppy or difficult. My breathing might
feel labored or I would want to stop shortly after I started. But
instead, I felt relief. Relief that it felt good. Relief that it felt
natural. Relief that I want to just keep going for a really long time.
It seems funny that we have these barriers put upon us, but I
suppose that is what made it felt good. Like I knew I was breaking the
rules.
I’m sure I would have changed my mind after 4 miles about wanting
to run for a really long time. It just seemed like it was such an easy
pace that I could hold it forever.
Like when I started at Hinson and it felt so painfully easy that I
was nearly bored out of my mind. But then it slowly became harder and
the easy pace became my hard pace.
Given my feelings over the last 6 months, it seems like that was a different person.
But as I climbed the tiny hill in the back section of the rec
center loop, I thought about GDR and the training I would need to put in
this winter to feel prepared. And instead of it scaring me, I felt so
overwhelmingly excited. I wanted to climb those hills to exhaustion. To
keep taking the curve of the forest service roads and wondering when
they would end. I thought about goals and the feeling of satisfaction no
matter how long it took given the place I was at now.
And maybe that’s what I needed in my running. To know that even
on the worst of days that it still was a joy to be able to move my body
in that way.
7-30-18
I haven’t run again since last Thursday. 90% I would attribute to
Adam talking some sense into me. 10% because my FF hasn’t felt quite
right. Maybe I’m in denial, but it isn’t really pain. It’s more like it
is just not quite right. I’m not sure if that makes any sense except to
me. The FT seems to be healed, so perhaps I am focusing all my crazy
energy on my foot?
I can’t tell if I am just being hyperaware of my body because of
what has transpired over the last 6 months or if there is actually
something going on. What a strange feeling that it doesn’t definitively
hurt, but it also doesn’t feel 100% either. I know the doctor said that
it could take up to a year to heal so I’m holding onto the possibility
that it is just going through that process.
On the other hand, I live in fear of screwing it up again and
being forced to take another break from
running. I’m not certain I can
intelligently make these decisions by myself because I’m always going to
angle for a way to keep running. I think this is called addiction?
I actually did okay with the break this second go ‘round for the
first couple of weeks. But then as the weeks wore on and I started to
get further away from those last runs, I missed it more and more. And
now that the boot is off, I feel even more raring to let it rip, but
this constant fear is harping on me.
Before I went through this process, I would read stories of other
people’s injuries and never felt a
connection. Sure, I had niggles of
pain here and there and often took a few days off to rest something that
seemed to be giving me trouble. But I couldn’t relate to the weeks, months, seasons that runners would miss.
Now I get it.
And while the benching is hard enough, I’m going to say getting
back into it has been harder for me. I’m aware that I have no chill when
it comes to this. And having no running makes me even more neurotic. A
solid 20 miler is a good way to help exhaust me.
