So much for all my excitement and motivation. I went for my run on Sunday. I was having a great run! I go to a big park nearby, and I've run the route several times. There aren't many cars on the first half, and then the second half is on a pedestrain/bike trail. For the first time ever, two cars passed me at the same time--one going one direction, the other going the other direction on a two-lane road. I decided it best to move to the shoulder, which had a pretty nice gravel path on it anyway. I stepped off the asphalt, paying attention to the passing car, and I felt my ankle roll. Then I heard a pop, which I would have thought was a rock, except for the fact my foot was sideways, and my ankle was screaming at me.
Of all the ironies, the second passing vehicle was an ambulance, which I watched put its brakes on as if they were thinking about stopping, but then they went on. I hadn't fallen, so either they thought I was OK, or they were worried they might get in trouble for running someone off the road and injuring her.
I kept moving, though slowly. I think my first line of reasoning was simple denial--"If I keep moving, maybe it didn't happen, and I'll continue running, no problem," or "It's not that bad. I can walk it off!" I managed to do a whole sprint-distance adventure race on a sprained ankle. Of course, I was out of commission for weeks afterward, and I never got back into exercising regularly after that, but what does any of that matter?
While I did have my cell phone tucked into my Camelbak, I also realized John would have no clue how to get to that particular area of the park. He's directionally challenged. Despite being the native of the Pittsburgh area, I know his city better than he does. It's truly pathetic, but there's nothing to be done about it. I figured if the pain didn't magically go away, at least I would be in a better location for John to pick me up.
I also considered walking back to the car, but I was already about four miles away, and the hardest, hilliest portion of my run was the part I already did, so continuing and getting to the main drag seemed a much better option.
At first, the pain actually did seem to get better. Or maybe it was just the initial relief after the blinding, stabbing, horrorific pain I felt at first. I got those blotches in my vision and thought I might pass out (maybe than the damn ambulance would have stopped and helped), but I was able to walk that off. But the injury itself just wasn't getting walked off at all. My limp got worse, and unlike the other time I sprained my ankle really badly (same stupid ankle, of course) this hurt on the inside as well as the outside. In fact, the inside hurt worse. I knew it was time to call John.
Thank God John's first reaction was, "What happened?" But his second was how in the world he was going to find me, just as I knew it would be (I really thought he might have asked that first, but he really does care). I tried to explain it to him, but he interupted me and said he'd call me when he got close. I told him that I'd try to make my way closer to his known territory, because I'm the kind of person that puts others ahead of my own pain and suffering. So I limped and hopped my way down a giant hill (it was actually a short cut) and lay in the grass waiting. I found three golf balls on the way, so the day wasn't a complete loss.
After a quick stop home to wrap and ice my ankle and change into a non-dripping shirt, we went to the new, local emergent care place. Booie was already a guinea pig at the place a couple months ago when she almost broke her foot, and they were great! The copay is less than half the hospital's ER too, and considering we don't have $30, much less $75, that's a plus.
I got looked at and poked, which sucked about 70% as much as the initial injury, and finally x-rayed. Sure enough, I had a bad sprain on the outside of my ankle. To make it even better, I chipped a bone on the inside of my ankle. I can't put weight on my leg for a week, and can't resume regular activity for at least three weeks. "Regular activity" did not include running either. That has to wait four to six weeks.
I'm on crutches and in a temporary cast, which I chucked in lieu of my own wraps and a borrowed Crow walker. It's good to work in conjunction with a foot and ankle orthopaedic surgeon and lymphedema (swelling) therapists. I missed work yesterday, but I went in today and sat around doing stupid computer crap. Crutches totally suck, as does sitting around, but I'll be damned if I set my healing back because of pushing myself too hard.
I cannot begin to describe the disappointment I feel. I was doing so great with my running, having a best day ever. I was to begin training for the 10K this week. I finally started losing weight. I was feeling good about myself. I've spent the last few days sulking and eating whatever I could find. But that is going to end. I can't set myself back even further. I'll set my sites on the half marathon in May, maybe try for the 5K instead of the 10K in September if I can actually start running again in 4 weeks.
I can't even say this happened because I was clumsy or stupid or pushing too hard or anything. If I did something to deserve it, maybe I wouldn't feel so depressed. This time, I did it right, but sometimes bad things happen. I had my days of wallowing, and now I have to do what I can until I can resume my plan. I'll do what strength training I can, and find some non-impact activity to get my heart rate up that isn't swimming. Everyone, including the doctor, says to swim. I really don't like swimming, and I can't afford it, so swimming is out. Other suggestions are appreciated!
At least I won't talk about working out so much, right?
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One Year Ago Today:
Nothing
