First off, I hate that I have no running updates for this running blog. As I mentioned before, I'm hoping documenting my recovery from joint fusion surgery in my foot -- which I did to hopefully return to pain-free living and activities, including running -- will help keep me motivated and provide a good way to track my progress and hopefully not make too many mistakes. I've also never been good about cross training and know I better get used to it if I want to maintain any fitness during this layoff, so a blog should be an interesting way to see how things unfold. Anyway...
My big return to working from the office today instead of from home wasn't as magical as I thought, simply because it HURT. As I mentioned in the update at the bottom of my last post, my cast came off this morning and I went straight to work. Like a fool, I had this idea that the cast was the closing of a significant chapter and things would get easier. Unfortunately, they haven't. And me not being smart about this meant I brought a giant purse to work. Pro tip: Don't carry a big purse while on crutches. If it doesn't get tangled with your body and the crutch and cause you to feel like you're about to trip any moment, it will fall down to your elbow...and cause you to feel like you're about to trip any moment. Let's just say that I ditched the purse in my office drawer when I left at the end of the day and just put my wallet and phone in my laptop backpack.
I guess the bigger issue with today was I went with my natural tendency to PUSH PUSH PUSH and jumped back into a normal day. That included not having my foot elevated for the majority of the day (I finally broke down due to the pain at the end of the day and put my feet up on my desk while I read through some materials I had to review). I've had my foot elevated for the majority of the day for the past 12 days, so this was a bonehead move. I also tried doing a little walking on my heel without my crutches (going to the printer, going to the water cooler), which was a little too ambitious. The result: I left work a little early because I was in the most pain I've been in since I had surgery. The days immediately following surgery, when I had a giant foot with big swollen sausage toes, weren't even this bad! I had this idea this morning when I left for work that I'd even stop by the gym on my way home to do a little stationary biking. Nope. I came straight home, put my foot up and removed the air cast and my sock. My foot is more swollen than it was when I came out of my hard cast this morning, and I've got more bruising than I remember (including purple toes).
I clearly overdid it this morning and today was a huge reality check. This isn't going to be quick and easy. Of course it's not. I intellectually know that but my natural inclinations go against it and I don't make the best decisions when it comes to these things. I can't wait to return to running but I can't jeopardize my recovery by rushing it like I did. I'm going to have to re-evaluate my approach and take it even easier than I thought...
Any surgery recovery tips or experiences out there to make me feel better? Any recommendations for getting good cross training in when you're severely limited in what you can do?
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
Surgery Recovery Week 2: Coming Out Of The Haze
I'm finishing up week two of surgery recovery (Wednesday will be two weeks since the day) and am happy to say I've left the house twice during that time--once on Saturday and then this evening to go to the gym for the first time since the surgery (more on that later). Yes, I stayed inside for 10 straight days. Now, before you go thinking this is disgusting, let me describe the scenario: I was on a steady diet of percocet every 4-6 hours for several days and oxycontin every 12 hours. I'd say it wasn't until Sunday after my surgery I could eat at the table and stay awake more than an hour at a time. Drugs and surgery recovery are no joke!
Monday a week ago I "went back" to work, which meant I crutched over to the dining room table around 7:30 or 8:00 a.m., logged on to the network, IM and email, turned on my phone, propped up my big ol' casted foot and leg on a chair next to me and got to work until 5 or 6 p.m. It was tough in the first few days to keep up with my expected levels of productivity while fighting through the tremendous fog--I'm not going to lie! One day I was especially crabby and tired of the situation and ventured out to the back stoop of the house for the first time in a week. I sat there for five minutes, breathed in the fresh air and felt rejuvenated, but also like I had just slept through an entire week while the world moved on.
By Friday, as the pain pills were dwindling and the hours between dosages got longer, I not-so-coincidentally felt like I had my clarity back and actually could get into a work groove. And, I started to have that feeling of "AHHH, I just want to MOVE and get outside and be active." I consider that a good thing and totally normal that I made it that long before feeling that way. People had asked earlier how I was doing and how long before I could cross train or whatever, and honestly, the first several days post surgery I was so nauseous and drowsy, changing my clothes was enough "cardio." My surgeon had said two weeks after surgery, when I get my cast removed (which is tomorrow), I could start riding a stationary bike. Hooray.
But really, I've been looking at this as a two week break. As runners, we can be very disciplined and regimented--guilty as charged. So much so, in fact, that we often don't consider a run a true workout or effort without hitting a certain number of miles. A long run might not be anything less than 90 minutes, for example, or a run might not be worthy of a mention unless it's at least five miles. At times in my life, I've been there. And I do think you have to be disciplined and regimented when going after specific goals. But this time has been good for me to just let go. Not let go in the sense that I completely fall off the wagon nutrition-wise, but honestly, a couple weeks of rest is okay -- especially after surgery. And it's been pretty nice!
This evening, though, I made my triumphant (okay, not quite) return to the gym. Because I'm still on crutches and going to the gym in the afternoon means having to park in the far corners of the lot and hike in, my husband was kind enough to take me there and drop me off at the door (nice!). He then went for a run and said he'd be back in about an hour. Knowing this, I had to figure out what in the world to do with myself. I can't exactly bike with this foot-to-top-of-my-calf cast on, nor can I do anything standing, obviously. My option: the devil exercise machine, the arm bike. Since it took some time for me to crutch in, go to the locker room and take the elevator up to the workout floor, I figured Derek would be back now in less than hour. So I sat and just pedaled with my arms. And pedaled. And holy hell, is that thing hard. Three minutes in I was searching for an exit and in my panic formed a plan: alternate directions every five minutes and hand positions after every set (forward and back). And, alternate hard and steady efforts every minute. I'll tell you this: It was boring as all get out.
One hour later (actually 15 seconds before I hit the hour mark), Derek strolled up and I was done! It was very convenient timing and I ended up on that thing much longer than I would have expected. I realized the downfall of this when I stood up to crutch away -- my arms! -- but all in all, it felt good to move and sweat a little. (Okay, that's not the first time I've sweat -- there have been mornings when I've felt the beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck as I crutched around trying to get ready for the day after Derek has left for the work...but whatever.)
Tomorrow, I have my first post-op check up and I am OH SO EXCITED at the prospect of hopefully getting my cast off. I believe I get to have my stitches removed, and in order to do that the cast has to come off, so let's hope it stays off! I've had an itch I've wanted to scratch for almost two weeks now...
UPDATE AS OF 3-10-14: Had my appointment and saw my foot for the first time since surgery. Not going to lie -- my vanity got the best of me and I was a little grossed out by not only my ugly, scarred up foot, but also HOW MUCH MY CALF SHRUNK. Ugh. Got the cast and stitches removed and graduated to a removable air cast, so...progress! But, I still have to use crutches because I'm only supposed to put weight on my heel (trust me, my foot has already told me when I'm not and it isn't happy when that happens). This made for a somewhat challenging walk into work...I had a backpack and a too-big purse and by the time I got to my desk, my foot was throbbing and I had broken a sweat. But, I know it will get better. I go back in four weeks when they'll take x-rays and I can hopefully graduate from the aircast and start bearing more weight. The PA said the surgery involved a bone graft and fusion so those bones still have a lot of healing to do.
Monday a week ago I "went back" to work, which meant I crutched over to the dining room table around 7:30 or 8:00 a.m., logged on to the network, IM and email, turned on my phone, propped up my big ol' casted foot and leg on a chair next to me and got to work until 5 or 6 p.m. It was tough in the first few days to keep up with my expected levels of productivity while fighting through the tremendous fog--I'm not going to lie! One day I was especially crabby and tired of the situation and ventured out to the back stoop of the house for the first time in a week. I sat there for five minutes, breathed in the fresh air and felt rejuvenated, but also like I had just slept through an entire week while the world moved on.
By Friday, as the pain pills were dwindling and the hours between dosages got longer, I not-so-coincidentally felt like I had my clarity back and actually could get into a work groove. And, I started to have that feeling of "AHHH, I just want to MOVE and get outside and be active." I consider that a good thing and totally normal that I made it that long before feeling that way. People had asked earlier how I was doing and how long before I could cross train or whatever, and honestly, the first several days post surgery I was so nauseous and drowsy, changing my clothes was enough "cardio." My surgeon had said two weeks after surgery, when I get my cast removed (which is tomorrow), I could start riding a stationary bike. Hooray.
But really, I've been looking at this as a two week break. As runners, we can be very disciplined and regimented--guilty as charged. So much so, in fact, that we often don't consider a run a true workout or effort without hitting a certain number of miles. A long run might not be anything less than 90 minutes, for example, or a run might not be worthy of a mention unless it's at least five miles. At times in my life, I've been there. And I do think you have to be disciplined and regimented when going after specific goals. But this time has been good for me to just let go. Not let go in the sense that I completely fall off the wagon nutrition-wise, but honestly, a couple weeks of rest is okay -- especially after surgery. And it's been pretty nice!
This evening, though, I made my triumphant (okay, not quite) return to the gym. Because I'm still on crutches and going to the gym in the afternoon means having to park in the far corners of the lot and hike in, my husband was kind enough to take me there and drop me off at the door (nice!). He then went for a run and said he'd be back in about an hour. Knowing this, I had to figure out what in the world to do with myself. I can't exactly bike with this foot-to-top-of-my-calf cast on, nor can I do anything standing, obviously. My option: the devil exercise machine, the arm bike. Since it took some time for me to crutch in, go to the locker room and take the elevator up to the workout floor, I figured Derek would be back now in less than hour. So I sat and just pedaled with my arms. And pedaled. And holy hell, is that thing hard. Three minutes in I was searching for an exit and in my panic formed a plan: alternate directions every five minutes and hand positions after every set (forward and back). And, alternate hard and steady efforts every minute. I'll tell you this: It was boring as all get out.
One hour later (actually 15 seconds before I hit the hour mark), Derek strolled up and I was done! It was very convenient timing and I ended up on that thing much longer than I would have expected. I realized the downfall of this when I stood up to crutch away -- my arms! -- but all in all, it felt good to move and sweat a little. (Okay, that's not the first time I've sweat -- there have been mornings when I've felt the beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck as I crutched around trying to get ready for the day after Derek has left for the work...but whatever.)
Tomorrow, I have my first post-op check up and I am OH SO EXCITED at the prospect of hopefully getting my cast off. I believe I get to have my stitches removed, and in order to do that the cast has to come off, so let's hope it stays off! I've had an itch I've wanted to scratch for almost two weeks now...
UPDATE AS OF 3-10-14: Had my appointment and saw my foot for the first time since surgery. Not going to lie -- my vanity got the best of me and I was a little grossed out by not only my ugly, scarred up foot, but also HOW MUCH MY CALF SHRUNK. Ugh. Got the cast and stitches removed and graduated to a removable air cast, so...progress! But, I still have to use crutches because I'm only supposed to put weight on my heel (trust me, my foot has already told me when I'm not and it isn't happy when that happens). This made for a somewhat challenging walk into work...I had a backpack and a too-big purse and by the time I got to my desk, my foot was throbbing and I had broken a sweat. But, I know it will get better. I go back in four weeks when they'll take x-rays and I can hopefully graduate from the aircast and start bearing more weight. The PA said the surgery involved a bone graft and fusion so those bones still have a lot of healing to do.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Commence Recovery!
I'm going to make this brief because the cocktail pain pills I'm currently on have turned me into a spacey, no-attention-span and slightly nauseous blob, and I don't trust myself to write too much at the moment. But I wanted to document the "highlight" of the past week: Foot surgery! I checked in on Wednesday morning at 6:00 a.m., went under at 8:30 a.m. (complete with a "take a couple deep breaths"....and that's all I remember) and was home by 11 a.m.! Yep, it was that quick, and from all accounts, it went well. I now have a plate and screws between my first and second metatarsals, back at the midfoot joint where they intersect, which will hopefully heal into a rock-solid, stabilized joint that will be able to withstand all the activity I want in the future.
At the moment, I'm in a cast and crutching around. I haven't left the house since I got home, but that's all right -- I can only stand to have my foot in a non-elevated position for about 10 minutes max before it starts throbbing and the cast begins to feel too tight due to swelling. This will eventually subside, and for now I'm just trying to live in the moment and not worry about too much besides letting it HEAL. It dawned on me this morning that I was injured before, and I'm not "injured" anymore...I'm fixed, and now my body is finally healing!
I have my first post-opp appointment on March 11, when I'll get my cast off and my stitches removed. My surgeon told me on Wednesday I can then start biking (hello, spin classes!), and he thinks I'll be ready to start running 12 weeks post-surgery. So, basically like the recovery time required for a stress fracture. I can do this!
I'm going to try my hardest to document my recovery so I can maybe learn a thing or two from it. It probably won't be very exciting--especially during these first few days/weeks (seriously, the pain pills I'm on are the most "interesting" part). But it will be nice to look back on it in six months or a year when I'm hopefully super healthy and this is all a distant memory.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
The "Gift" of Surgery
Congratulations, you get to have surgery!
Okay, so maybe that sounds weird, but when I received the news last week, my happiness may have seemed a little...odd.
To recap, I have had a pain in my foot for a couple years now. My midfoot joint has stuck out like a bony protrusion for as long as it can remember, but in 2011 I remember it really starting to bug me. Some days I couldn't fit it into certain shoes. It usually calmed down, though. However, in the past year, I've had a nonstop pain when running, but it was dismissed as arthritis, and something I thought I'd just have to deal with...until recently, when everything went downhill rather quickly and it became obvious there would be no simple "just dealing with it."
I was finally able to get in to Dr. Coetzee, a great orthopedics guy who operated on my foot in 2007 when I ruptured my posterior tibial tendon in the same foot (my poor left foot). He brought up xrays I had had done over the past several years, and his diagnosis was immediate. "Have you ever heard of a Linsfranc sprain?" he said. I couldn't even understand what he said -- so the answer was a definite no. What I thought was simple arthritis turns out to be a damaged, unstable joint. He showed me the differences in the xrays, pointing out the abnormal spaces in the bones of the joint and saying how it "looked really bad" just between 2011 and 2012 alone. He also propped my foot up and "wiggled" the joint, saying normal joints don't do that. I was both disgusted and relieved to know this isn't a normal pain.
Next steps: Either I ignore it--though it will eventually catch up with me, Dr. Coetzee assured me--or we do the surgery, during which as I understand it he'll basically stabilize the joint, fusing it so it stops moving and stays in place like most people's joints do. Recovery will include six weeks in a boot followed by rehab that he assures me will be easier than what I went through when I had my tendon surgery.
I basically yelled, "sign me up!!!" when he gave me the surgery option, and now I know where I'll be at 7 a.m. on Feb. 26. I cannot wait to get this fixed and to get out of this odd limbo I've been in for so long now, where my foot hurt and kept me from training as much as I'd like and as intensely as I'd like. And recently, it's affected just walking alone, so it's time.
How did this happen? I have no idea. In typical me fashion, I seem to have an injury for which I don't know the source...but man, does it hurt. From what I understand, these types of injuries are common among football and soccer players and can happen with one big blow (my doctor cited Broncos player Eric Decker as the most famous example of someone who had the injury...and he also apparently performed his surgery, which took place when he was a Gopher). I don't remember any big blows or twisting of my foot. It just gradually got worse and worse...and I ran through it, managing it fairly well until today. One big issue, I think, is that I didn't know what it was, and had to book my appointment with this doctor eight months in advance. I viewed it as simple arthritis, took steps to manage it and tried to remain active. Of course this didn't help things, but rest wouldn't have helped either. Looking back at the x-rays, it's been damaged for quite some time, and even led to other injuries, including a metatarsal stress fracture in 2012 (he confirmed the connection).
I've had a couple people ask when I'll be able to run again. I honestly have no idea and didn't ask. I did ask if I'll be able to run normally and resume normal training at some point, and he said yes. I'm not putting a timeframe around it just yet, because I've had this for so long that I now view this surgery as the starting point of hopefully the rest of my running life! I know it sounds dramatic, but this has really worn on me. I threw all my goals out the window and just hoped I'd be able to keep running--and hopefully pain free at some point. I'm hopeful I'll be able to now, and it's SUCH relief.
I'm committed to doing my rehab RIGHT and giving this the time it needs to heal. Post-surgery will suck for a while, and I know that. I've been through foot surgery before that kept me out of running for half a year. The immediate pain following surgery will make me question what the hell I've gotten myself into. I think this is the right option, though...I mean, I went for an easy run tonight, which all my runs are these days, and I was very aware I was dragging my leg due to not being able to push off my foot. And you can only run so fast on one working leg, too -- I learned the hard way when I tried to pick it up on Sunday and basically tripped over my dead side, rolling my ankle in the process. I'm thankful I can get out and do these easy, short runs within reason--but I'll be glad to get this done. It's time.
I'm going to try and be a better blogger through my recovery, because I think it will hopefully be rewarding to look back on, and hopefully it will help keep me on track and keep me motivated. I think I'll even track my cross-training, which I will need to get creative with during the first several weeks when I can't put pressure on my foot. Hand bike, anyone?
This injury has been a true test of will and patience--two things I'll need during my recovery. I think I'm up for it. What have I got to lose?
Okay, so maybe that sounds weird, but when I received the news last week, my happiness may have seemed a little...odd.
To recap, I have had a pain in my foot for a couple years now. My midfoot joint has stuck out like a bony protrusion for as long as it can remember, but in 2011 I remember it really starting to bug me. Some days I couldn't fit it into certain shoes. It usually calmed down, though. However, in the past year, I've had a nonstop pain when running, but it was dismissed as arthritis, and something I thought I'd just have to deal with...until recently, when everything went downhill rather quickly and it became obvious there would be no simple "just dealing with it."
I was finally able to get in to Dr. Coetzee, a great orthopedics guy who operated on my foot in 2007 when I ruptured my posterior tibial tendon in the same foot (my poor left foot). He brought up xrays I had had done over the past several years, and his diagnosis was immediate. "Have you ever heard of a Linsfranc sprain?" he said. I couldn't even understand what he said -- so the answer was a definite no. What I thought was simple arthritis turns out to be a damaged, unstable joint. He showed me the differences in the xrays, pointing out the abnormal spaces in the bones of the joint and saying how it "looked really bad" just between 2011 and 2012 alone. He also propped my foot up and "wiggled" the joint, saying normal joints don't do that. I was both disgusted and relieved to know this isn't a normal pain.
Next steps: Either I ignore it--though it will eventually catch up with me, Dr. Coetzee assured me--or we do the surgery, during which as I understand it he'll basically stabilize the joint, fusing it so it stops moving and stays in place like most people's joints do. Recovery will include six weeks in a boot followed by rehab that he assures me will be easier than what I went through when I had my tendon surgery.
I basically yelled, "sign me up!!!" when he gave me the surgery option, and now I know where I'll be at 7 a.m. on Feb. 26. I cannot wait to get this fixed and to get out of this odd limbo I've been in for so long now, where my foot hurt and kept me from training as much as I'd like and as intensely as I'd like. And recently, it's affected just walking alone, so it's time.
How did this happen? I have no idea. In typical me fashion, I seem to have an injury for which I don't know the source...but man, does it hurt. From what I understand, these types of injuries are common among football and soccer players and can happen with one big blow (my doctor cited Broncos player Eric Decker as the most famous example of someone who had the injury...and he also apparently performed his surgery, which took place when he was a Gopher). I don't remember any big blows or twisting of my foot. It just gradually got worse and worse...and I ran through it, managing it fairly well until today. One big issue, I think, is that I didn't know what it was, and had to book my appointment with this doctor eight months in advance. I viewed it as simple arthritis, took steps to manage it and tried to remain active. Of course this didn't help things, but rest wouldn't have helped either. Looking back at the x-rays, it's been damaged for quite some time, and even led to other injuries, including a metatarsal stress fracture in 2012 (he confirmed the connection).
I've had a couple people ask when I'll be able to run again. I honestly have no idea and didn't ask. I did ask if I'll be able to run normally and resume normal training at some point, and he said yes. I'm not putting a timeframe around it just yet, because I've had this for so long that I now view this surgery as the starting point of hopefully the rest of my running life! I know it sounds dramatic, but this has really worn on me. I threw all my goals out the window and just hoped I'd be able to keep running--and hopefully pain free at some point. I'm hopeful I'll be able to now, and it's SUCH relief.
I'm committed to doing my rehab RIGHT and giving this the time it needs to heal. Post-surgery will suck for a while, and I know that. I've been through foot surgery before that kept me out of running for half a year. The immediate pain following surgery will make me question what the hell I've gotten myself into. I think this is the right option, though...I mean, I went for an easy run tonight, which all my runs are these days, and I was very aware I was dragging my leg due to not being able to push off my foot. And you can only run so fast on one working leg, too -- I learned the hard way when I tried to pick it up on Sunday and basically tripped over my dead side, rolling my ankle in the process. I'm thankful I can get out and do these easy, short runs within reason--but I'll be glad to get this done. It's time.
I'm going to try and be a better blogger through my recovery, because I think it will hopefully be rewarding to look back on, and hopefully it will help keep me on track and keep me motivated. I think I'll even track my cross-training, which I will need to get creative with during the first several weeks when I can't put pressure on my foot. Hand bike, anyone?
This injury has been a true test of will and patience--two things I'll need during my recovery. I think I'm up for it. What have I got to lose?
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Running Through The Dark
I've held off posting this type of post because I'd hate for this to become a black hole of negativity...which I'm afraid it could easily become for a bit given how my running has been going. But, it's my blog and the points of this post have been floating around in my head for what feels like forever. Don't get me wrong; life is good. However, this is a running blog, so time for another running update.
A long time ago, running was a way to escape dark, difficult times. And it worked. Hard work paid off, and I found joy and friendship and my eventual husband through this great hobby. Recently, though, running itself has been kind of dark. It's totally normal to cry on runs, right? I can't believe myself, but this has been me recently. Too many breakdowns and zero breakthroughs.
The main reason is my foot. Since the fall of 2012, I've had bad pain in my midfoot and big toe. It's arthritis, and I hit a breaking point last June. The constant discomfort, inflammation and swollen foot that felt like it didn't fit right in my shoe became too much. I called to make an appointment with the doctor who did my tendon replacement surgery in my foot in 2007. "Sure," the scheduler said. "It looks like his next available appointment is in February 2014."
This was crushing to hear. I had already decided I wasn't going to start Grandma's Marathon, even though I'd trained. But it was almost summer--prime training time! Missing a race was one thing, but having to deal with the pain for the next eight months was crushing to think about.
I saw a podiatrist instead, whose first question was if I'd seen the doctor I was trying to get into see. He laughed when I told him about how far in advance I had to book out, and then prescribed cortisone shots for my foot to help me at least get through the summer. And guess what? They helped. But now, they've long worn off, and every run over the uneven snow feels like steps closer to snapping my foot in half. Yes, I realize this is dramatic. Plus, I'm 11 days out from my appointment...after waiting almost eight months! You'd think I could get it together. I will say, though, I'm just frustrated. I've long run with a bad gait because of this injury, and it's arthritis -- what can be done? That's why I will see a doctor; I don't have the answers. But if he says surgery, I'll say how soon can we schedule it. I am so tired of this and the fact that I haven't been without pain in more than a year -- it's just a matter of what degree of pain. Good is a dull ache; best is a sore toe at most. Worst is right now, which is a sharp nerve pain shooting out from my toes, with the dull ache in the midfoot there in the background.
I even went back to my podiatrist this past week to get my orthotics re-covered and told him about my pain. He did some strength tests, asked if my foot slaps on the ground when I run (yes), and said it sounds like some sort of peroneal nerve palsy, with the nerve supposedly misfiring from up in my leg down to my foot, resulting in loss of coordination and strength in my foot and leg. Wonderful. Yes, I drag my leg when I run now so it makes sense. He referred me to ANOTHER person to do nerve tests, but I'm going to wait to see what my doctor next week says.
I'm ready for progress instead of things just getting worse and worse with my running. I think that's the source of my frustration. I'm profoundly disappointed in myself and how things have gone with my running over the past several years. It's not like I ever knew my PRs would be my ultimate PRs and then they'd be done. But I've fallen so far off where I used to be, and as hard as I want to work to get back there, I just can't seem to find the right formula to get there. My mind still sometimes thinks I'm the runner I used to be, but my body reminds me I'm not. Seven years have now passed since my high point and it seems so long ago and I feel so broken.
It's just a hobby, and there's so much more to life, but it eats at me when I can't seem to grasp the goals I've set for myself. I don't know if my foot will get better and if I'll still be able to train the ways I used to and do the things I like to do -- tempos, track workouts, hills, etc. I seriously don't have motivation problems, which makes it worse. The winter is rough, but I don't dread the cold and don't see it as an excuse. I would love to be out there busting my ass to work toward my goals if my foot would just cooperate. It kills me to hear others complaining about the weather, or motivation, or having to go to the treadmill. Guess what arthritis apparently also hates? The treadmill. Actually, who am I kidding -- it hates running all together right now.
I sometimes wish I could barter with the universe over injuries....take away this pain and I'll take a week of the flu and a cavity, for example. Pure nonsense. The body will do what it needs to do and sometimes I need to stop and listen more, I guess. I'm just at a loss for what to do, though. I've had stress fractures, and I know after 2-3 months you'll generally be all healed up with a stronger bone, to boot. What about a creaking, inflamed joint that feels like it's reached its breaking point, though? My husband pointed out earlier that I'm going through something many of us will go through...but I'm about 50 years too early.
I'm just not ready to give up yet. Lately I seem to ask myself so many questions on every run. How much more can you take? Why are you out here? What do you even want from this anymore? How is this enjoyable when it hurts so much? Then I imagine just choosing to stop and not do it, and I can't. I need a doctor to tell me exactly what to do with this. I think that's the twisted thing about running in general...we push and push, even when it sucks, because we hope it will pay off somewhere down the road. I keep running like I'm chasing the ghost of my old self and goals and investing in my fitness, just hoping it will pay off somewhere in the near future, when I'll also hopefully be done with these ailments.
Onward and upward.
A long time ago, running was a way to escape dark, difficult times. And it worked. Hard work paid off, and I found joy and friendship and my eventual husband through this great hobby. Recently, though, running itself has been kind of dark. It's totally normal to cry on runs, right? I can't believe myself, but this has been me recently. Too many breakdowns and zero breakthroughs.
The main reason is my foot. Since the fall of 2012, I've had bad pain in my midfoot and big toe. It's arthritis, and I hit a breaking point last June. The constant discomfort, inflammation and swollen foot that felt like it didn't fit right in my shoe became too much. I called to make an appointment with the doctor who did my tendon replacement surgery in my foot in 2007. "Sure," the scheduler said. "It looks like his next available appointment is in February 2014."
This was crushing to hear. I had already decided I wasn't going to start Grandma's Marathon, even though I'd trained. But it was almost summer--prime training time! Missing a race was one thing, but having to deal with the pain for the next eight months was crushing to think about.
I saw a podiatrist instead, whose first question was if I'd seen the doctor I was trying to get into see. He laughed when I told him about how far in advance I had to book out, and then prescribed cortisone shots for my foot to help me at least get through the summer. And guess what? They helped. But now, they've long worn off, and every run over the uneven snow feels like steps closer to snapping my foot in half. Yes, I realize this is dramatic. Plus, I'm 11 days out from my appointment...after waiting almost eight months! You'd think I could get it together. I will say, though, I'm just frustrated. I've long run with a bad gait because of this injury, and it's arthritis -- what can be done? That's why I will see a doctor; I don't have the answers. But if he says surgery, I'll say how soon can we schedule it. I am so tired of this and the fact that I haven't been without pain in more than a year -- it's just a matter of what degree of pain. Good is a dull ache; best is a sore toe at most. Worst is right now, which is a sharp nerve pain shooting out from my toes, with the dull ache in the midfoot there in the background.
I even went back to my podiatrist this past week to get my orthotics re-covered and told him about my pain. He did some strength tests, asked if my foot slaps on the ground when I run (yes), and said it sounds like some sort of peroneal nerve palsy, with the nerve supposedly misfiring from up in my leg down to my foot, resulting in loss of coordination and strength in my foot and leg. Wonderful. Yes, I drag my leg when I run now so it makes sense. He referred me to ANOTHER person to do nerve tests, but I'm going to wait to see what my doctor next week says.
I'm ready for progress instead of things just getting worse and worse with my running. I think that's the source of my frustration. I'm profoundly disappointed in myself and how things have gone with my running over the past several years. It's not like I ever knew my PRs would be my ultimate PRs and then they'd be done. But I've fallen so far off where I used to be, and as hard as I want to work to get back there, I just can't seem to find the right formula to get there. My mind still sometimes thinks I'm the runner I used to be, but my body reminds me I'm not. Seven years have now passed since my high point and it seems so long ago and I feel so broken.
It's just a hobby, and there's so much more to life, but it eats at me when I can't seem to grasp the goals I've set for myself. I don't know if my foot will get better and if I'll still be able to train the ways I used to and do the things I like to do -- tempos, track workouts, hills, etc. I seriously don't have motivation problems, which makes it worse. The winter is rough, but I don't dread the cold and don't see it as an excuse. I would love to be out there busting my ass to work toward my goals if my foot would just cooperate. It kills me to hear others complaining about the weather, or motivation, or having to go to the treadmill. Guess what arthritis apparently also hates? The treadmill. Actually, who am I kidding -- it hates running all together right now.
I sometimes wish I could barter with the universe over injuries....take away this pain and I'll take a week of the flu and a cavity, for example. Pure nonsense. The body will do what it needs to do and sometimes I need to stop and listen more, I guess. I'm just at a loss for what to do, though. I've had stress fractures, and I know after 2-3 months you'll generally be all healed up with a stronger bone, to boot. What about a creaking, inflamed joint that feels like it's reached its breaking point, though? My husband pointed out earlier that I'm going through something many of us will go through...but I'm about 50 years too early.
I'm just not ready to give up yet. Lately I seem to ask myself so many questions on every run. How much more can you take? Why are you out here? What do you even want from this anymore? How is this enjoyable when it hurts so much? Then I imagine just choosing to stop and not do it, and I can't. I need a doctor to tell me exactly what to do with this. I think that's the twisted thing about running in general...we push and push, even when it sucks, because we hope it will pay off somewhere down the road. I keep running like I'm chasing the ghost of my old self and goals and investing in my fitness, just hoping it will pay off somewhere in the near future, when I'll also hopefully be done with these ailments.
Onward and upward.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
I Declare It's Not Too Late to Do a Race Recap from October 2013
It's about time I updated this blog. I've been waiting for the perfect time and opportunity, but I don't even know what that looks like. Nothing's ever going to be perfect so why wait around? I read plenty of blogs updated on a regular basis so I need to get with the program!
Since I last posted, I ran the Detroit Marathon, #13 for me. It wasn't the best and wasn't the worst. I had a good attitude about it all, which I was pleased about -- I didn't have a mental meltdown when I knew I wasn't gonna be near my goal. I knew I wasn't anywhere near PR shape (it was beyond obvious for quite some time), but I had goals. And it was my first race in a Oiselle singlet, so I was pumped! There's something about wearing it and knowing there are many others across the country (hell, I think we also have a few overseas) wearing it, too. It's such a great community to be a part of and the singlet reminds me of this. Sisterhood in sport, indeed.
I almost forgot to mention the excitement at the start. As is often the case with marathons, I think many more port-o-potties were needed. My husband and I (he also ran) walked the almost-mile to the start from our hotel and promptly got in line. I think we had an hour to go before the race. We waited 30 minutes before we made it to the front. At this point, we were ready to get our stuff to the gear drop and then would make our way to the corrals (he was in B, I was in C...and they extended very far back due to the number of runners and races happening at once, including a half marathon and a marathon relay). There was just one problem: I knew I'd have to go again. We made our way to the gear check but I knew I had to get in line again. Derek wisely wanted to warm up, so we bid adieu and I headed off to the lines, and waited. And waited. It became so nerve wracking and I really, really tried hard to stay calm.
As it turned out, I was peeing as the horn went off to signal the start of the race. That's something I hope to never go through again! I ran like a crazy person through the crowds. I could hear them signaling the start of each corral as they advanced up to the start line. I think I hopped a fence at some point and jumped in with corral E, which was just about to cross the start line. My marathon warm up was a sprint, and I came to a sudden stop as I walked with the crowd, moving as one. Then, we were off!
The cool thing about this race was that fact that it started before sunrise, and we then got to watch the sun come up as we ran into Windsor, Canada. We hit a pretty substantial hill around mile 3 as we climbed up, up, up and over the bridge into Canada. I didn't have much of a plan for these early miles other than to keep the effort easy and hopefully 8:20s would feel ridiculously slow and I would be able to gradually pick it up throughout. Things were okay, but not great. I kind of curse my use of a Garmin...I've only run one other marathon with one, and if you're not mentally strong, they can really mess with you. My pace was all over the place - too fast, too slow, but then the too fast felt too hard and I secretly hoped it wouldn't, and...well, you get the picture. I just tried to calm down and enjoy things.
Around mile seven, you drop into a mile-long underground tunnel. The temp went from in the low 40s to suddenly much warmer when we dropped underground -- I was dripping. Then, we climbed back out into cool temps again and a really strong breeze and BOOM! I felt like all the energy washed out of me. Get it together, get it together, I thought. Then, a bathroom break a couple miles later. I realized I was in a daze and dilly-dallying. Get it together, I thought! It was quite bizarre. I didn't have the urgency or the panic I often do. I just wasn't on my game but felt oddly "whatever" about it.
Somewhere not too long after I made the official decision to not fight things. I have had some miserable marathons where I fought beyond the point of being able to salvage a decent race. And you know what? Sometimes you have to strike that balance between pushing yourself and prematurely killing yourself, or digging your own grave for later in the race. I scaled back my pace to an effort that seemed sustainable for the day--I just wasn't feeling it. Disappointing, yes, but I made peace with it quickly. I started walking through water stops--I was ridiculously thirsty!--just to make sure I could stay even and finish all right. My goals shifted...a sub-3:35 finish became just keep it under 4 hours. I'd managed to run all my marathons under that until this point, so this seemed like a good goal given how flat and crappy I felt.
The good news is, when many around me seemed to be hitting the wall after mile 20, I managed to feel the same I'd felt 10 miles before: not great, but what had felt awful at mile 10, seemed decently appropriate for mile 20, if that makes sense. I'd managed to maintain an even feeling of crappiness and was going to make it through! My slow shuffle made me feel like I was flying around many who were walking, which gave me a warped sense of "picking it up." Hey, whatever works. A highlight then came at mile 23 or 24 (I forget), when we came off an island and around the corner, and I caught the eye of a spectator -- who happened to be Kevin Hanson from Hansons-Brooks. Finally, my rainman-like quality for knowing names in the running community paid off when he shouted encouraging words and gave me a boost. "Thanks, Hanson!" I yelled back (I admittedly didn't know which brother it was at the time and had to do a Google image search just now).
Eventually, races end, and mine did in 3:52. Far off my goal but I kept my streak alive. The older I get and the harder running gets, the more this means to me because I know it might not always be possible. My husband was at the finish, having finished long before me, and my parents were there, as well. It wasn't even 11 a.m., and we had the whole day ahead of us. It turned out to be a great trip and I have very positive feelings about the whole race experience, even if it didn't go well. In fact, I've been drawing on a lot of those feelings as I work through some bumps in my training this winter...but that's another post.
Since I last posted, I ran the Detroit Marathon, #13 for me. It wasn't the best and wasn't the worst. I had a good attitude about it all, which I was pleased about -- I didn't have a mental meltdown when I knew I wasn't gonna be near my goal. I knew I wasn't anywhere near PR shape (it was beyond obvious for quite some time), but I had goals. And it was my first race in a Oiselle singlet, so I was pumped! There's something about wearing it and knowing there are many others across the country (hell, I think we also have a few overseas) wearing it, too. It's such a great community to be a part of and the singlet reminds me of this. Sisterhood in sport, indeed.
I almost forgot to mention the excitement at the start. As is often the case with marathons, I think many more port-o-potties were needed. My husband and I (he also ran) walked the almost-mile to the start from our hotel and promptly got in line. I think we had an hour to go before the race. We waited 30 minutes before we made it to the front. At this point, we were ready to get our stuff to the gear drop and then would make our way to the corrals (he was in B, I was in C...and they extended very far back due to the number of runners and races happening at once, including a half marathon and a marathon relay). There was just one problem: I knew I'd have to go again. We made our way to the gear check but I knew I had to get in line again. Derek wisely wanted to warm up, so we bid adieu and I headed off to the lines, and waited. And waited. It became so nerve wracking and I really, really tried hard to stay calm.
As it turned out, I was peeing as the horn went off to signal the start of the race. That's something I hope to never go through again! I ran like a crazy person through the crowds. I could hear them signaling the start of each corral as they advanced up to the start line. I think I hopped a fence at some point and jumped in with corral E, which was just about to cross the start line. My marathon warm up was a sprint, and I came to a sudden stop as I walked with the crowd, moving as one. Then, we were off!
The cool thing about this race was that fact that it started before sunrise, and we then got to watch the sun come up as we ran into Windsor, Canada. We hit a pretty substantial hill around mile 3 as we climbed up, up, up and over the bridge into Canada. I didn't have much of a plan for these early miles other than to keep the effort easy and hopefully 8:20s would feel ridiculously slow and I would be able to gradually pick it up throughout. Things were okay, but not great. I kind of curse my use of a Garmin...I've only run one other marathon with one, and if you're not mentally strong, they can really mess with you. My pace was all over the place - too fast, too slow, but then the too fast felt too hard and I secretly hoped it wouldn't, and...well, you get the picture. I just tried to calm down and enjoy things.
Around mile seven, you drop into a mile-long underground tunnel. The temp went from in the low 40s to suddenly much warmer when we dropped underground -- I was dripping. Then, we climbed back out into cool temps again and a really strong breeze and BOOM! I felt like all the energy washed out of me. Get it together, get it together, I thought. Then, a bathroom break a couple miles later. I realized I was in a daze and dilly-dallying. Get it together, I thought! It was quite bizarre. I didn't have the urgency or the panic I often do. I just wasn't on my game but felt oddly "whatever" about it.
Somewhere not too long after I made the official decision to not fight things. I have had some miserable marathons where I fought beyond the point of being able to salvage a decent race. And you know what? Sometimes you have to strike that balance between pushing yourself and prematurely killing yourself, or digging your own grave for later in the race. I scaled back my pace to an effort that seemed sustainable for the day--I just wasn't feeling it. Disappointing, yes, but I made peace with it quickly. I started walking through water stops--I was ridiculously thirsty!--just to make sure I could stay even and finish all right. My goals shifted...a sub-3:35 finish became just keep it under 4 hours. I'd managed to run all my marathons under that until this point, so this seemed like a good goal given how flat and crappy I felt.
The good news is, when many around me seemed to be hitting the wall after mile 20, I managed to feel the same I'd felt 10 miles before: not great, but what had felt awful at mile 10, seemed decently appropriate for mile 20, if that makes sense. I'd managed to maintain an even feeling of crappiness and was going to make it through! My slow shuffle made me feel like I was flying around many who were walking, which gave me a warped sense of "picking it up." Hey, whatever works. A highlight then came at mile 23 or 24 (I forget), when we came off an island and around the corner, and I caught the eye of a spectator -- who happened to be Kevin Hanson from Hansons-Brooks. Finally, my rainman-like quality for knowing names in the running community paid off when he shouted encouraging words and gave me a boost. "Thanks, Hanson!" I yelled back (I admittedly didn't know which brother it was at the time and had to do a Google image search just now).
Eventually, races end, and mine did in 3:52. Far off my goal but I kept my streak alive. The older I get and the harder running gets, the more this means to me because I know it might not always be possible. My husband was at the finish, having finished long before me, and my parents were there, as well. It wasn't even 11 a.m., and we had the whole day ahead of us. It turned out to be a great trip and I have very positive feelings about the whole race experience, even if it didn't go well. In fact, I've been drawing on a lot of those feelings as I work through some bumps in my training this winter...but that's another post.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Ode to My Foot
I'm seven days away from marathon #13, and the biggest worry on my mind right now is my left foot. No, not the award-winning Daniel Day Lewis movie...my actual left foot. My battered, worn-out, geriatric-looking foot that has been through stress fractures, plantar fasciitis, a ruptured posterior tibial tendon that was replaced with a tendon from my big toe and the latest: arthritis in my big toe and in the midfoot joint back behind the big toe. In the past year, the arthritis has made itself known, and that it's not leaving -- and it's been a battle. So much so that I didn't do the spring marathon I was signed up for when the pain really flared up. A couple of cortisone shots later, I salvaged a summer of okay training, and I've gotten to this point where I'm ready to go.
And with that, I want to thank my foot. That same foot that I curse time and again and that has cost me so much money and heartache, and the foot that sometimes won out and convinced me to do one less rep, or cut the tempo short. It reminded me that training is a balancing act, and walking a fine line between injury and improvement.
Dear old foot, you look like you're 85 years old, far beyond your 33 years on this earth, with bony, exaggerated joints and a scar as evidence of the wear and tear you've endured. You don't like to be woken up quickly and heaven help the person who relies on you for too many repeats on the track -- turning left is NOT your favorite thing. You've carried a body for thousands of miles, through multiple adventures and glorious PRs, and led the way to cherished friendships and a marriage. And aside from running, you were also obedient to ballet positions, soaring jumps and endless turns, showing your versatility to not only run miles, but dance.
It's understandable that you'd be a little worn out and battered. You've lived through enough adventures and experiences to make for a wonderful life so far. You helped me achieve goals I never imagined, and I'm thankful for that in more ways than one. In fact, you taught me to never give up or underestimate myself, and now I get to apply that same lesson to dealing with you. I will never underestimate you, despite how you look or how achey you feel. I know you're capable of so much.
And with that, I want to thank my foot. That same foot that I curse time and again and that has cost me so much money and heartache, and the foot that sometimes won out and convinced me to do one less rep, or cut the tempo short. It reminded me that training is a balancing act, and walking a fine line between injury and improvement.
Dear old foot, you look like you're 85 years old, far beyond your 33 years on this earth, with bony, exaggerated joints and a scar as evidence of the wear and tear you've endured. You don't like to be woken up quickly and heaven help the person who relies on you for too many repeats on the track -- turning left is NOT your favorite thing. You've carried a body for thousands of miles, through multiple adventures and glorious PRs, and led the way to cherished friendships and a marriage. And aside from running, you were also obedient to ballet positions, soaring jumps and endless turns, showing your versatility to not only run miles, but dance.
It's understandable that you'd be a little worn out and battered. You've lived through enough adventures and experiences to make for a wonderful life so far. You helped me achieve goals I never imagined, and I'm thankful for that in more ways than one. In fact, you taught me to never give up or underestimate myself, and now I get to apply that same lesson to dealing with you. I will never underestimate you, despite how you look or how achey you feel. I know you're capable of so much.
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