Alternate Reality

In Too-Close-For-Comfort, Alternate Reality World, this is what would be happening : 

In the Alternate Universe, Hammerhead Sharks can fly! 

Today, I would have been anxiously awaiting an X-ray, scheduled at Mayo Clinic, for tomorrow afternoon. It would be my second visit with the specialist and I would be dying to find out if I could finally get the green light to be off the crutches she'd prescribed for six weeks. 

I would have now, not run since December (give or take a couple testers). In fact, I wouldn't have even been walking on two feet or breathing deeply in yoga. My fitness would be gone. My leg muscles almost atrophied. 

In Alternate Reality, though, I would have stuck it out. I would have pushed aside my doubts and wholeheartedly followed the doctor who had just met and knew very little about me. It would have seemed worthwhile when she showed me the healed bone (or the nothing...since X-rays are pretty much useless for stress fractures) on the scan. 

Crutches would be tossed aside, tentative steps would be taken and I would ever-so-gradually be able to incorporate some walk-running, just as the month of May started to creep in. 

It truly wouldn't have been the worst scenario, but...

I just love The Reality so much more 

Cheers to a blissful outcome

I thought, bounced questions and concerns off others, researched and ended up deciding to follow up with my local doctor. 

The aftermath of that visit, the quickly scheduled (next day) CT scan and the follow-up were nothing but good, better and best.  

They definitively ruled out "any underlying masses" (#gloryhallelujah) and finally saw evidence of the offending stress fracture and subsequent healing. 

Through a series of interesting events (not my story to tell, unfortunately) I was also given some very specific and well-researched instructions, moving forward with the new results. It boiled down to me doing just what I had been. Incorporate some walking and light running. When it hurts, pull back and re-group. If it doesn't, keep listening to your body and proceed carefully. 

I had made some good choices and was basically told to keep them up.  

The reigning Queens of Good Choices

Cross-training, including yoga and aqua jogging, were heartily endorsed. I left with a beaming, stupid smile and knew things were finally...finally settled. 

That was April 4th. I have been able to resume training with absolutely no pain. I'm slower than I was 5 months ago, but I know the speed will come back to me.  I've been overjoyed to join friends back on the streets, run some quiet, solo miles,  and even made the decision to travel to Boston, for the marathon. 

another good choice: NOT running the marathon

With a bib in my hand, the sun shining on my face and a chilly morning facing me, it was not easy to make the smart decision. Somehow, it happened, though. While friends and family made their way to the start line in Hopkinton, I jogged through the crowds and cars making their way around downtown Boston. 

It was four miles I never thought I'd be present and healthy for and I was so grateful for the chance. 

Plus, the next day, when fellow airline passengers spotted my Blue & Yellow race shirt and asked "Did you run, yesterday?!" I could cheekily respond : "Why, yes. Yes I did." 

This left me with also plenty of time to eat an un-healthy breakfast (the joys of not racing a marathon), grab a coffee and join the masses to cheer at the finish line. 

Full disclosure : there were several moments, throughout the weekend, some tears escaped before I could reign them in. The moments of pure joy, pride and gratitude far outweighed any of my silly sadness, though. 

Another bonus? I left feeling just as strong and pain-free as I had when I'd arrived in Boston. In Alternate Reality, had I run the marathon (and, boy, did I almost do it!) I would have surely set myself back for many unnecessary weeks. At one point, this had been a goal race for me. 

Things change. Adjustments need to be made to conform to actual reality. 

I hope to update here more often, as my ultimate running goals have only been strengthened. Feel free to read and join me for next few chapters that don't involve being terrified of a cancerous tumor growing in my bone. 

That's an Alternate Reality we can all, happily wave good-bye to. 

Come. Join me up front. 

Stalled

I had a two-paragraph rant about how much we pay for our family's insurance and how little that has actually provided us. (unless we're talking about grief and hassles. It provides a crapton of that)

I've pared it down to the above sentences. Complaining isn't productive and it makes me feel gross. It did feel fairly refreshing to pound out angry words on my laptop, though. 

not as refreshing as running, obviously. Hi, Dad!

As you may have surmised from the title, there has not been a ton of progress. I finally received a call from the Orthopedic Oncologist's office who informed me my insurance does not cover any doctors outside of our county. 

Nice. 

There are zero (none, nada) Orthopedic Oncologists in our county. 

This new setback led to another day spent waiting, making phone calls, trying not to cry and not always succeeding at any of that. As the hours wound down, though, it was apparent we were faced with another. wasted. day.  

Friends and family have kindly asked for updates, so there it is. Tomorrow will be spent doing what I did, today. If we are able to connect the right pair of doctors, we might be able to get an appointment for a week from now. This will be a consultation, and unlikely to garner any solid answers. 

Just another step. 

Fun side note : If we are not able to get insurance to cooperate with this process, the aforementioned consultation will cost $750. 

During the interim, I've tried some longer walks and even a bit of jogging. It hurts. The pain doesn't let up at any point. A smarter runner may even label it "unbearable" or "not something I can run through".  Luckily, as I've pointed out in the past, no one has ever accused me of being particularly smart. 

Here is my thought process : 

If it is/was a stress fracture, it now has a calcification so big and strong, the doctors are unable to detect any evidence of the actual trauma. At that stage in a healing process, I should be able to run. 

If it is a tumor, I can't be causing any further damage by testing out the legs. It's simply a matter of just how much pain I want to endure. 

Care to share your thoughts about my thoughts?

One day, my friend and I ran to the Pacific Ocean. Why can't I be stalled in that kind of day?

Day 20, Chapter 3

If you're not caught up on this saga, feel free to read chapter 1 and chapter 2.  Otherwise, lets all move on to :

Chapter Three: In Which I Bypass The Wall (and Hit the Sidewalk, Instead)

 

 

Cautiously optimistic about the reprieve I seem to be experiencing from my "internal issues", I took a peek at my Garmin after passing the 19th mile marker. I'd stopped checking, many miles ago, when the numbers were too disheartening and I was totally wrapped up in damage control.

 

What I saw gave me a glimmer of new hope.

 

While the 3:40 goal was a distant memory, I really could still pull out a PR. It took an inordinately long time to do the math, but I finally calculated that it would actually be possible to run only slightly faster than my current pace, for the remaining miles, and finish faster than I had in my first marathon. I was still pretty grumpy about the whole experience, but decided to pull it together, turn that (literal and mental) corner and finish this thing strong(ish).

 

Only there was a moving SUV in my way. (ha! You totally thought this was the sidewalk part, didn't you?!) 



I'm still not sure if the driver had accidentally gotten into the runners' lane and couldn't get out, if they thought they were pacing us or if he/she was simply a moron. (I guess that option would cover all the others, too) Regardless, it was ridiculous. The vehicle kept changing speeds and was taking up the entire lane. The only way around it would've been to run into oncoming traffic and I simply wasn't that smart desperate, yet.

At one point, after almost running into the bumper when the car came to a sudden stop, I sidestepped and received a disgusted yell and nasty face from another runner.

Really, lady? You thought, out of courtesy, I ought to throw myself into a Sports Utility Vehicle so as not to break your spectacular stride?

Wow. I thought I'd be over that little moment, by now. Apparently not.

Eventually the Surprise Car Obstacle was gone but my already sad pace had suffered, further. The heat was rising, the humidity was at about 100% (for real) and I was finding myself unable to take a deep breath.

Good times.

When I saw the 20th mile marker, I almost cried.

Here's the part I could never understand, until I'd been through a rough marathon. You will, potentially, lose control of your body and brain. I'd read other recaps and heard other stories about "I couldn't imagine how I was going to run that last 5k", etc., but never understood how someone could get to that point.

When I saw that I had a mere 10k left, of this Race O' Death, I nearly had a breakdown. The distance that would, sometimes, be a warmup for me, seemed utterly daunting.

How. the &*$^@ was I ever going to run for nearly an hour more?

Prior to this marathon, that thought just seems silly.
After the marathon, that thought just seems silly.
During the marathon...that thought made perfect, bone-chilling, mind-numbing sense.

It was then that I took my first walk break. Yes, you're reading that right. Other than the bathroom stops, I hadn't yet stopped running. At all. The smart person outside of my body was freaking screaming at me to keep running and squeeze out a PR. The mushy brain inside my skull, though, would just not allow it.

I couldn't remember a single mantra...couldn't really even remember why I was putting myself through this mess and had exactly zero happy thoughts, at that time.

even the thought of this little celebratory treat failed to improve my mood



Just after the 21st mile, or so, I saw a friend from the running group. He was walking. He and I had similar goals and training so the sight of him was simultaneously sobering and encouraging. I was extremely sad that he was in the same boat, but felt a bit better knowing I wasn't alone in my misery.

We talked a little. He asked if I had anything to eat. When I offered him the gel I had left he looked like he was going to barf. I quickly shoved it back in the pouch and tried to get him to run with me.

That lasted for about ten seconds. Somehow his deathmarch gave me strength, though, so I picked up the pace when he dropped back to continue his walk.

A PR was still within reach and I had my 14th wind! We turned off a side street and onto a pretty busy road. A duo in front of me came to a complete stop, so I hopped onto the sidewalk to go around.

When I fell, I didn't even really feel myself tripping or going down. I simply noticed I was suddenly skidding on the sidewalk, hitting both hands and both knees. I remember actually making an "OOF" sound as the little breath I had left was forcibly slammed out of me.

Without bothering to survey the damage, I shakily stood up and started running again. Just about the time I looked down and saw blood dripping down my legs, fingers and arms, I realized I still hadn't really caught my breath. That's when I learned Hard Fall + Extreme Fatigue = Projectile Vomit.

Blessedly, as I didn't have much left in my digestive system, it was very brief.

Show of hands : Who, at this point of the story, is dying to run a marathon with me ? For any of you with hands raised, let me give you the full picture all the horrified spectators got to see for the rest of the race :

I took one blood-soaked hand, smeared it across my sweat, snot and vomit-splattered face to "clean up". That attractive look, paired with the blood and dirt-caked knees, and clothes decorated with every other bodily fluid known to man brought on some pretty comical reactions. The cheery smiles and pumping fists slowly gave way to frozen hands and horrified gasps.

"GO...ohhhh.!" "Oh my. "
"You can DO...oooh. maybe not..."
"Only two more miles to....holy *%$#!"

My weirdly-wired RunnerBrain didn't know any better than to just keep shuffling towards that finish line. The knees that had taken the brunt of my klutziness, though, had other ideas. I almost fell, again, when they locked up, completely. I was unable to even walk. Scooting over to the side, I stopped to massage them until I could move, again. That happened about five times.

I finally just laughed. I'm sure that was the icing on the CrazyCake the onlookers were witnessing, but it felt good to just stop caring. After that, I really don't remember feeling anything else. Physically and mentally I was completely numb.

When I crossed the finish line, four hours and five minutes after I'd started running, I felt no emotion. I wasn't happy to be done.
I wasn't sad about my finishing time.
I wasn't even registering the exhaustion.

I half-heartedly grabbed my medal and hobbled over to meet my ever-patient husband, and spectating sister.

You didn't really think there wasn't more drama to come, did you?

Throw(further)back Thursday

I am not an easy person to surprise.


I pride myself on my observant qualities and, lacking a firm filter, I have been known to blurt "I knew it!" when faced with a "surprise" situation. (fun, huh?)

The Birthday 2003 Situation was the rare and perfect combo of awesome AND surprise. This makes for a good memory that needs to be shared.


Leading up to that particular Summer, I'd packed on a few pounds. Turns out 20 minutes, per week, of Denise Austin videos isn't a successful weapon against fast food lunches, every day. 


disclaimer 1: to avoid "those" types of comments : I'm naturally blessed with a decent metabolism and figure. "Bigger" for me, may be "smaller" for others...and vice versa. It's all relative.


I kept ignoring it until my boyfriend and I returned from a cruise, and I was checking out the pics we'd taken.

jk. this *was* actually one of the cruise photos, tho! Perfect, no?

 



this was one that gave me pause

 

I started taking walks, increased Denise and attempted to control my french fry binges. (mmmm Checkers!) I mentioned, more than once, that a treadmill would be real handy. Maybe you haven't heard, but Summertime, in Florida, is hot. It was difficult for me to motivate myself to go for long, lonely, hot walks.

 

Have you already figured out that this was me in my pre-runner days?

 

With my birthday on the horizon, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to plan a weekend getaway. My sister, her boyfriend and a couple other friends were going to join my current boyfriend and I for an overnight stay on the beach. This wasn't a common occurence, so I was a bit surprised when the parties involved were reluctant to participate. In the end, though, everyone agreed to split the cost of the hotel room and food.

 

The rest of my family joined us for dinner, before the hotel partying. It was at that time, that they revealed my birthday present:

 

They had all, including my boyfriend gone in, together, and purchased a treadmill for me! My very own exercise machine! It was a really fancy one, too. No expense was spared. As delighted as I was, I felt immediately guilty for having the expense of the weekend tacked onto all the money they'd already spent. :(

 

Nonetheless, we enjoyed ourselves (maybe a little too much?) but had all day Sunday (my actual birthday) to relax and recover, somewhat.

 

My sister and boyfriend told me we were all getting together, again, Sunday night, for a poker game at a friend's house. We generally played, once a week or so (low stakes, lots of fun) so this wasn't unusual. We do, however, have a very cool poker table, so it wasn't terribly common for us to go to a different house to play.

 

That's when the wheels started turning...

 

"There's going to be a surprise party for me, at Joe's house!" I thought. It just made sense. Everything was fitting together too perfectly for it to be anything else. I excitedly ran my errands, worked on my "GASP! For ME?!" face, and arrived back home to get ready to head to the "poker night".

 

When I walked through the living room to put down my bags, it occurred to me as  only slightly odd that every candle in my (vast) collection was burning brightly. Even when I glanced over and saw my boyfriend, one on knee, holding a small box, I thought "this is a really elaborate gesture for a pair of earrings".

 

disclaimer 2: when you've been dating the same person for five years, self-preservation kicks in and tells you that marriage may not actually ever happen, after all.

 

It should be no suprise to anyone that I said "yes" before he even got all words out.

 

In the excited aftermath, it was revealed that the Treadmill gift was just a (very expensive) decoy. He was so gung-ho about surprising me, he hadn't even told my parents what he was planning.

 

Last year, we sold The Infamous Treadmill through Craigslist. I was a little sad to part with it, due to the memories it evoked every time my feet pounded on it. However, I reminded myself that I have a much more amazing souvenir of that night.

that is actually us, in Las Vegas, where we did actually get married. But this isn't from our wedding. Long story, but another photo inclusion that was too perfect to pass up.

 

 

I'll take him, over any gift, anytime. 





 

 

 







Lesser-Known Cues

Wouldn't it be awesome if our bodies were equipped with a lighting system, in regards to exercise?!





For example:
Green would mean "Go run, walk, bike, swim...go go go!!"

Yellow would indicate a need for rest "take it easy until you see the green light, again"

Red would, of course, mean to "STOP. Cease all activity immediately!"

(p.s. If I were designing this feature, I'd have it installed on the belly button. It's about time we got some use out of that thing, anyway.)

Obviously, we are forced to resort to obsessing over other, less obvious signs to determine our daily capabilites.

"If it hurts to walk, don't run". (I would also add "don't walk", but maybe that's a given)

"If the pain forces you to alter your gait, don't run"

 

Middlest demonstrating "altered gait"

 

"If you're feeling sick anywhere from the neck down, don't run" (wins prize for "most-ignored")

 

"Palpate the injured area. If there's pain, don't run"

 

"Do not run until you can hop on the injured leg, without pain"

 

 

"Duh"

 

Most of the classic, dire warnings, are fairly cut and dry. Some are left up to the delusional  athlete's interpretation, though. I, personally, drove myself (more) crazy, trying to determine when it would be safe to try running after I was injured.

 

The following are a few, lesser-known, rules-of-thumb I have been using lately. They're pretty darned practical and way more definitive than "If you're limping, take a day or two off" .

 

You're out for your gentle walk, and the creepy sidewalk guy starts heading your way. If you determine that you can run away from him, if necessary, you might be healed!

 

 

If you are not nervous about heating up and eating your favorite "ice pack" for lunch , it might be okay to start running!

 

 





You are surely on the road to recovery when the sight of stairs doesn't make you break into a cold sweat.

 

If you have lingering pain, go see your doctor, physical therapist, chiropractor...some sort of trusted medical professional. When you decide to ignore or out-think them, though, feel free to reference these handy tips.

 

You're welcome.

 

Any good ones to add?

 



Warning : Long But Possibly Useful Post

...sprinkled with random, gratuitous cuteness. Non-running family members get forced to read this blog. The least I can do is reward them with some photos.

I've tried to not bore everyone (if you're family or very close friend, you're out of luck) with the daily details of recovering from my injury. I realized, however, that this may make it appear that I was one day sporting this snazzy foot enhancement :

you know you love it

 

 

and the next day out resuming marathon training. This was definitely not the case. In between the boot-hobbling', non-running, whining-filled weeks and the running shoe-wearing, slow, ugly, running, (still) whining-filled days, there was a time of transition.

 

Pretty sad when your foot looks better covered by a hideous medical apparatus, huh?



 

I read every piece of information I could on how to safely return to running, following an injury. There was advice and resources a'plenty. With my newfound knowledge, I compiled my own, loose plan. Maybe, someday, it will make another runner's return just that much easier.

 

Weaning : When I was able to tolerate putting a little bit of weight on my injured foot, I began to slowly (that word is key during rehab) spend less time wearing the boot. I found my muscles and tendons to be completely useless, in that leg, after being confined to said boot. This is totally normal. The whole point of it is to keep your foot immobile. The first few days, I would walk around 3-4x, during the day or evening, just to try to help my feet remember how to work normally, again. It felt "funny", but not painful. Eventually, I left it off most of the time I was at home. This way I could still elevate it, when necessary, but walking from room to room gave me a chance to (slowly) work my way out of Boot Life.

 

Walking : I was lucky enough to have pool running to help try to maintain my fitness and sanity. Also, with it being Summertime, it was something my family and I could enjoy, together.

he was never this excited about running with me

 

 

Everything I'd read, though, touted the benefits of walking to (slowly) work my way back up to running. Thanks to some random hooligans aka sandals I was forced to overcome my fear of putting one, bootless foot in front of the other, and try walking. It was gloriously successful and pain-free. I continued to walk, every other day, and ,eventually every day, slowly building mileage. Even after I passed some key tests I continued to stick to walking. This exercise mimics running, but without the serious impact. It's a great way to work on your form, meet your (non-running) neighbors and whine about how bored you are!

 

Wrunning: I don't remember how I found this link, but it's the schedule I loosely used to work some (slow) running in with my walks. The first day I walked for about 15 minutes and then (oh-so-nervously) tried a slow, steady run. It lasted approximately 10, painful seconds. I immediately stopped, in a panic. However, upon evaluation, I realized that everything hurt. My injured ankle was no more painful than any other part of my body. So I tried again. This time the running portion lasted 3, awful minutes. I knocked out a couple more intervals and headed home, doubtful and discouraged.

 

The following two days, I stuck to walking.  There was no residual pain, but the running had definitely felt disgusting. However, I kept waiting for the "you overdid it, again dummy!" pain to surface, but it never did.

 

I then spent a week concentrating on different walk/run intervals. My plan was to not get stuck on finishing a certain amount of running minutes, though. I needed to listen to AND obey my body. The walking felt perfect. The first sets of running always aggravated my ankle. The pain wasn't stabbish, though, only a dull ache. It also never worsened. Had either of those symptoms been present, I'd really like to think I would've stopped. At some point, during my workouts, though, the ankle pain would disappear.

 

On the off days, I continued to do the pool running. It's zero impact, incredibly boring but cool and splashy.

 



also, notice how lonely the pool looks without me flailing around in it

 

The running was awkward, painful and slow. I think all of the pool workouts helped maintain my cardio, but my muscles (glutes, hamstrings, quads...you name it) protested every time I ran. Turns out running is freaking hard! Neither my brain, nor my body decided to remember that, apparently.

 

 

Also hard, but such an integral part of recovering : don't follow a plan. don't set goals. don't have expectations. There is no way to know how your body will react to each phase of healing, transition and running, again. You can't set expectations for the unknown. It must be taken one step at a time.

 

This is not only my unsolicited advice, it's also a reminder for myself.

 

This week I'm back to full-on, but oh-so-modified, runner mode. I'm still processing the progress but can't wait to bore you to tears with all the details.

 

If you've made it this far, you deserve an award. In lieu of prizes, though, you get to see some darling children eating ice cream. You're welcome.

 

How about you? Any injury recovery advice to share?

 

 

 

 















Short and Sweet Sunday II

Condensed version of an excellent weekend

I discovered a new (to me) feature of my Garmin! Did you know it can also be used as just a watch?! I'll paraphrase the owner's manual : "This comes in handy for injury recoverers (new word, too!) who are timing walk/run intervals and not worrying about pace. "

If you're a savvy reader, you've also realized this means my weekend (finally!!) consisted of a teensy bit of actual, real, sweaty, awful horrid,  long-awaited running. (more on this, later)



our new Freshman opted out of the matching Mario backpack. Weird, huh?

This also means that just before the boys embark on a new, school-ish adventure, I get to re-join some running friends for a treasured, 5 am , slow and careful jaunt.

I really did set out their school stuff before my running gear. Really!

Happy Weekend. Happy Week ahead. Hope yours was/is every bit as much!

What are you looking forward to this week? 

Beating the Odds

Today's Workout :
2 mile Fast Walk (is that an oxymoron?)
30 minutes (3 "miles") steady pool running

I won't bore you with the boring details of my boring walk and boring "running" back and forth (endlessly) in the boring pool.

(just a teaser. there was pavement! grass! mailboxes!)



Instead, today, I thought we'd celebrate the fact that the 2012 WSOP (World Series of Poker) is currently being aired on ESPN. Televised poker is Reality TV at it's finest. There's money, tension, laughter, drama, romance, celebrities...and, of course,  poker.

While my husband and I are not big gamblers, per se, we do enjoy a good card game. And, when one isn't available, watching other people enjoying a good card game is sufficient.

Raising children, (3 boys, in this case) can often feel like a high-stakes, life-long tournament. You invest everything. All of your time, money, patience and love gets dumped into the pot, from the day they're born. The payoff can be phenomenal, but grinding it out, for decades is exhausting, to say the least.

As much as I love (I really do!) having all the boys home with me for Summer Break, it often feels like we're involved in a 3-month tournament. Winner(s) take mom's sanity.

This brings us to the subject of Proposition Bets. These are commonly referred to as Prop Bets or Side Bets and can add an extra level of excitement to the game. (reference)  Apparently, the regular Summer Tournament wasn't exciting enough for them. Halfway though a poking, screaming, food-throwing, milk-spilling, incessant arguing lunch, yesterday,  I told my husband I was onto them.

 "They must have a Prop Bet going on! They're competing to see who can make me scream say "I can't wait 'til you all go back to school!!" "

totally staged. They don't often sit around, gambling.

Luckily, I'm a much more skilled poker player than they are. Despite being the serious underdog, (3:1 odds?! ...they're almost guaranteed to win!) I know how to beat them at their new game and hold my tongue.

Also, come Monday morning, I know the scene will look a little something like this :



My heart will break. As much as I'll try, I won't be able to wish Summer 2012 back. At least I'll be able to let them go with zero regrets...and a couple of extra chips in my pocket.

Hoppy Tears

I've never been fearful when it comes to running. Once I shocked myself by learning I could run a whole half-mile, without stopping, I rarely looked back.

Yes, I have butterflies the night before a morning of Speedwork.

I also have to soothe myself with key rituals to prepare for a long run or new race.

I am definitely not without some normal, healthy realizations of my limits. However, when it comes to lacing up and setting out for a run, there is very little that gives me pause.

Sinus headaches, groin pain, tight calves, nausea, rain, SNOW...these have all faced me before a run and I haven't given it a second thought.

Granted, this is the view from the treadmill I was using, while the snow was falling. Kinda cheated, but I did run through the actual snow to reach said treadmill.



If you're a runner, this is not likely going to surprise you. You're probably thinking "Duh." (If you have that sort of coolness in your vernacular). What surprised me, though, is my level of near-paralyzing fear at even attempting a fast walk during this period of healing through a stress fracture.

I've referenced this post before, but it's worth repeating. It's long, but I definitely recommend bookmarking it. In it, Camille outlines 2 very simple tests for determining if your injury has healed enough to attempt small bursts of running, again.

1. Palpating the area (the touch test). Like any two-year-old injured runner, I could not keep my hands off that stupid bone. I poked, rubbed, massaged, patted that stupid sore spot more times than I'd like to count. It was like a magnet! This test has been, gradually, passed but I was still terrified to try the other. Cue ominous music...

2. The Hop Test. Three little words, I'd tell myself. I'd try to re-assure myself any toddler can and will do this, on command. Just balance on that injured leg, let go of the wall...no. seriously...let. go. of. the. wall. What the heck is wrong with you?! Why won't you *&$)%*#)ing let go of the wall?! (My inner conversations can get a little rough) Something that's normally so benign was so far outside of my realm of comfort, it was ridiculous.

Until this morning.

After several attempts at very successful, pain-free walks (outside! in running shoes!) I decided it was time to put that leg down (gingerly) and let go of the stupid wall.

And I did. I hopped. Then I hopped some more. Then tears filled my eyes until I was afraid I was going to fall over. The tears weren't due to pain. They blinded me when I realized the total lack, thereof.

I'll probably get judgement for what's about to happen next with those fancy socks and the beautiful shoes at the end of them. I can take it, though.

After all, I just passed The Hop Test. 

Pushing Back the Dumb

Boot : size SM. Perfect accessory to any Summer attire

Chair : Vintage Thomas the Tank.

Extra Artwork on Seat: Crayola "washable" Marker, by the Littlest

While doing a lot of extra sitting, over the past few weeks. I have had plenty of time to contemplate just how danged Smart I was being, regarding this injury. Each day that passed, without me trying to go for a run, walk or even firmly planting my foot on the stairs, gave me a little extra confidence.

I am a Smart Runner!

Others reinforced this newfound revelation. DailyMile comments ranged from "So proud of you for taking it slow!" to the ever-pleasant "You're an Inspiration!" Even my mom, who feels I am never cautious enough, was totally impressed. Sure, I may've made some not-so-smart decisions to get myself into this situation, but I was more than making up for it with my enviable patience and "smartness".

 

I did have to keep pushing back that one, teensy nagging thought : Pssst! Moron! The only reason you're not sneaking out to run is because it feels like someone is stabbing your anklebone every time you even think of putting weight on it!

I woke up, Friday morning, and didn't have that jolt of agony I'd grown so accustomed to when I stepped out of bed. This was new, encouraging and exciting! After gingerly walking around a bit, sans boot, I determined this really was a "better" feeling ankle day. I decided to continue to take it easy, wean myself off the boot somewhat, and see how things went. The plan was to definitely maybe take a short, slow walk on Monday.

Some troublesome kids and/or a lazy Pool Cleaner Guy made this plan fall into place. So, I, the Smart (Injured) Runner, set out for a Smart Walk. I'd decided to walk a mile or less, depending on how the ankle felt. There was some achiness for about 1 minute. Then it was gone. The sun shone a little brighter, the gnats swarming around my face buzzed a little quieter and my feet were SO happy!

Full disclosure: This double-rainbow shot was captured in my neighborhood...but not during my walk. That'd be cool, though, right?!

My back was almost getting SORE from all the self-patting I was giving it. "Look at you and all your Smart-ness...walking!" "You haven't even tried to run one. single. day, whilst injured." "You are soooo Smart!"

And then it happened. The Dumb started creeping in. I blame my happy feet. They can't help it, really, they're SO far away from my brain. The feet-to-brain communication is probably very fuzzy and, at times, totally non-existent.

"Hey! We should try to run! No, no...just a little, teeny bit!"

"Ok. You know what? If we're going to run, a little, it should be a sprint." "You LOVE to sprint, remember?!"

"Ok. Ok. I see that you're still making us walk. Walking's cool, and all, but how about we just Run Home. That's a simple enough goal : Run Home!" "It'll be rad!!"

And so on...

Turns out, all this time, I wasn't being smart. The Dumb just hadn't had an opportunity to work it's magic.

This long, drawn-out story has a happy ending, though. I pushed back The Dumb, long enough to finish that walk, get myself safely inside and elevate those overly-happy feet. Granted, it ended up being 1.28 miles, rather than "maybe 1 mile", but no one...ever...has accused me of being The Smartest.

Just Smart Enough is okay with me, though.

When does your Dumb creep in?

Ever seen a double rainbow?





 



Tipped-Over Chairs = Happy Feet

Alternate Post Title : The Sandals Made Me Do It (thanks, dad!)

The Cleaner Guy at our community pool and I are tight, these days. (Ignore the fact that I call him Cleaner Guy. You don't need to know someone's name to be tight.) He's generally finishing up his job when I arrive to start my deep water running. (I'll have a whole post on this, soon!!) CG and I make small talk, wish each other well and he runs back to his truck to laugh at how dorky I look. It's a morning routine and it works for us.

So, I, in my $19.99 TJMaxx sensible swimsuit, showed up to see him putting a complicated lock on the gate, this morning. We had a different sort of conversation.

Me : "Um...that doesn't look too promising"
CG: "Nope. We had some sandals in here. Can't let anyone in"

At this point, you're probably as confused as I was. Turns out he actually said "vandals".

CG: "Yep. They broke a light...knocked over a chair. Gonna need to keep everyone out for now."
Me : "Listen, CG, I'll just use the sun, as my source of light, this morning. Also, I wasn't gonna use *that* chair, anyway. How about you just let me sneak on in there?"

My last statement may or may not have only been in my head as CG gave me his usual "poor, weird, lady" wave and walked away.

But, wait! It's okay! Crisis averted. Per this brilliant (and superfast) lady's post I was getting antsy to try a gentle walk, anyway.

Went back home, changed outfits, paused for a moment of silence while I looked at both feet (finally!) clad in running shoes, and fought the urge to skip out the front door.

While the above photo may be a little scary-looking, it conveys the way I felt moving my feet, painlessly, on dry land. Happy Walk, Happy Feet, Happy Morning!

My actual feet, this morning. If  you listen closely, you can hear them cheering!

How was *your* morning?