Last weekend as I was digging in my workout clothes drawer for a shirt to wear on my bike ride, I came across a shirt I hadn’t seen in 3 months.
My Stonyfield jersey from Boston.
Instantly, the memories of that day and what was supposed to be came flooding back.
I hesitated about wearing it. I haven’t been able to wear my Boston jacket or anything else that I got to celebrate such an awesome race. There’s just too much baggage with it. Did I really want to go there?
But I put it on anyway.
As I pedaled on my ride, my mind was all over the place thinking about the events of the day. I even teared up a bit. Three months ago I was full of hope, excitement and overjoyed with the possibilities of where my running was headed. So much has changed in 3 months. Gone are all those feelings. I’m left with just a big question mark.
The one thing that hasn’t changed in 3 months (to the day actually)?
I’m still not running.
When I was first injured, I thought 6-8 weeks, tops, would be the length of time I spent not running. I’d still have plenty of time to soak in all of summer running’s glory – runrises, long runs at the beach, trail runs – and not to mention all of the summer and fall races.
But here I am, 3 months later, not running at all. And the bigger question if I’ll be able to run any races at all for the rest of 2015 is floating in my brain. I already dropped out of Zooma Cape Cod, will Reach the Beach be next? And who knows about Chicago. I pretty much know I won’t be able to run the race with Marina.
Last week, my foot was feeling better. I’ve have been able to walk longer with no pain and it doesn’t ache after being on my feet all day at work. One morning while out for a walk, I thought I’d try a little jog. At first it didn’t feel too bad, although my stride was not anywhere close to my normal. That lasted all of 30 seconds before the familiar pain was back. Yup. Not ready.
I mentioned it to my PT the next day during my appointment. She had me try to hop on my left foot. I did one hop and had shooting pain that did not go away as soon as I stopped hopping. Not good. Not good at all.
We agreed I needed to see the orthopedic doctor again. She thought I’d be back to running by at least 10 weeks and if I’m still having pain, there’s something still going on in my foot. It could still be the posterior tib tendon or something else. She didn’t think it was a fracture (and neither did the ortho) but maybe a tear or another tendon that’s injured.
On Friday, I had an MRI. I don’t find out the results till Thursday this week when I’ll discuss the plan of action with my orthopedic doctor.
Not running sucks. I don’t even feel like myself. My body feels different physically and mentally. I’ve been feeling frumpy, foggy, drained, sad and just plain antsy. Cycling, walking, the elliptical, yoga, lifting weights – there’s no comparison to the runner’s high.
I’ve been trying to down play my feelings about my injury. I don’t like to complain and I don’t like to whine (but I do like wine). I know this is temporary, but it’s been the longest I’ve gone without running in the past 5 years. Me running is the only way I can tolerate my kids. Kidding. Sort of.
A few days ago, I was digging through a cabinet and found an article that I tore out of Runner’s World Magazine about injuries. I stopped to reread it and one part stood out to me –
When injured, stop focusing on what you can’t do and focus on what you CAN do. Use all the energy and focus that you put into training for a race into your rehab exercises.
As simple as the statement is, it was my AHA! moment.
So I’m going to fix my ponytail and try to focus on the CAN rather than the CAN’T. I’m sure I’m still going to wallow as I scroll through my Instagram feed and see all the wonderful runners celebrating the love of the run. I’m sure I’m going to feel pangs of jealousy as I hear my friends tell stories of long run escapades or complaints about running in the heat and humidity. I’m sure I’m going to whine about if only I could just go for a run. If I didn’t have these feelings, I wouldn’t be a runner.
And I am still a runner.