Recovery Mode

I can run again!  After spending six weeks of Missoula's painfully short summer in one of those ugly walking shoe things (does anyone know what they're actually called?), my shoes match again.

So, this is how it played out: in mid-June, I hurt my foot.  I went to the doctor and they told me it was a stress fracture.  Sweet!  So, while I could kayak and take short walks, hiking, running, and pretty much anything that required the use of two working feet were out of the question.

After six weeks of not running, I went back to the doctor and he told me I could start again, but only for 15 minutes at a time and only if I alternated running and walking.  My last good long run was 22 miles and took a lot longer than 15 minutes.  But whatever, I no longer had to say, "Hey Sam, have you seen my left ballet flat?  No, I don't need the right one."

I ran one mile for the first time and felt completely out of shape.  A few days later, I did two miles.  It took almost twice as long as normal, but I was grateful.

A few days after that, I pinched a nerve in my right hip.  It sort of feels like being electrocuted, but with fire, if that makes sense.  And then I got food poisoning.  So, for a solid week, I laid on an ice pack, took pills for the inflammation, and got sick a lot.  I have this theory that my body was rebelling against its impending jump into the next decade by falling apart.

Now that we're midway through August, I'm feeling like a person again.  Despite a sometimes shaky summer, it was a good one.  My best friend in the whole world, Tami, came to visit.  I learned how to paddleboard and kayak, I found a beer I actually like, and I learned that I really truly love running.  It's my outlet and I was a mess without it.

I have physical therapy to do and I'm taking it slow.  I can run/walk two miles and I'm working up to doing that three days a week.  I've also added in cross training because I've read that it can help with injury prevention.  And, much more slowly, I'm working on nutrition.

I have no races on the horizon and I'm looking forward to some nice autumn running.  But come spring, I'll have my racing shoes on.

A PR and a Fractured Foot

I ran the Pengelly Single Dip last year and it reminded me to be grateful to this sport I love so much and for my ability to participate and endure it.  I remember getting to the race and thinking I didn't quite fit in with the other athletes.  It was like when I first started running and felt like an imposter.  But I found my zone and it became my favorite race of 2013.

This year I was excited rather than nervous for the race.  I'd made the route one of my regulars and I knew I could run it strong.

We started off for the base of Mt. Sentinel and slogged up the side of the mountain, already feeling the heat of the day (my nemesis).  I took it slow until I made it down the fire road.  Remember running around as a kid, those times when you just went as fast as you could?  As I came around a turn, I decided to do that.  I just wanted to have fun, so I stopped pacing and ran as fast as I could down the trail.

I passed people, jumped over the dips in the trail, and had a blast.  I let go of all the training and seriousness of trying to maintain X minutes per mile.  I slowed down again once I reached the road, but for those few minutes on the mountain I felt free.

Sam met me at the finish and we watched the Douple Dip finishers and sat in the grass.  I checked my time and saw that I had PRd.  It felt pretty damn good.

Pengelly Single Dip 2014

A little over a week later, I fractured my foot.

I woke up that morning and my foot felt sore, but it felt like the regular soreness of marathon training.  I figured it would fade like the other various kinks do once you start your day.

When Sam and I started, it was drizzling, which was a good thing.  Without having to deal with the heat, the run should have gone mostly smoothly.  A few miles in, I told Sam I was uncomfortable.  I adjusted my stride and tried to take it slow and steady.  It started to rain harder, but I like running in the rain.  My foot still hurt.

At 16 miles in, I had to stop.  I stretched my foot out and tried to put on a brave face.  I told Sam it felt like if I were to take off my shoe and sock, my foot would be black and blue.  But, yes I was fine and yes I wanted to keep going. 

At 17 miles in, I had to stop again.  I'm not a person that cries when I get hurt, I'm more of a suck it up type.  So, I stood there with Sam in the rain and held back tears.  He asked me what I wanted to do and I said that I didn't know, that I wanted to keep going, maybe.  I told him I didn't feel rational.  Could he just decide and I'd do what he said?  He said let's quit and I said two more miles.  Like it would resolve itself in that distance.

So we did two more miles and went home.  When I took off my shoe, my foot was red and swollen.  I couldn't even touch it to the ground, it hurt so bad.  We iced it and I felt stupid, but I cried.

I hoped it was minor and would heal on it's own, but after two weeks of limping around, it didn't.  I went to a specialist, they took x-rays, and told me that it was a stress fracture.  Goodbye first marathon, hello ugly black shoe.

My new nemesis

At the moment, I'm mid-way through the healing process.  I haven't run in almost a month and I'm ready to pull my hair out.  My foot doesn't hurt anymore, but I know it's still healing.  And the fear of re-injuring it worse is enough to keep me out of my running shoes.  Sam and I go on short walks and we kayak and try to stay active, but it's not the same. 

It made me realize something - I'm not, and never was, an imposter.  My race times never mattered.  I woke up before dawn, ate the bagels, and put in the miles just like other runners.  And I miss it.

But watch for the neon shoes, I'll be back soon.