15 posts tagged “philippides had the right idea”

I realized today that it's been a while since I've bitched and moaned about my bum leg.  So here's the latest....

I've been off the crutches for five or six weeks now, and it's been about as long since I'd been to physical therapy.  A combination of vacations (both mine, and my PT) and a busy work schedule kept me away for all of September.  I was hoping that this morning's appointment would be my last.  And it was.  So that's the good news.  Unfortunately, however, I still have some lingering pain.  And as of a week ago I still had a visible knot on my ankle above the focal point of that pain.  That knot is scar tissue and it will dissipate if I massage the muscle (which I have been instructed to do), but I'm not yet ready to start training for that marathon.  That's the bad news.

I've been cleared to jog short distances on soft surfaces like grass or a treadmill, but I need to avoid hills and overuse for at least another month.  There's no way I can reasonably expect to run a marathon in January if I don't start training until November.  I'm a little disappointed, but not a lot.  I kind of had an inkling this was coming when I was still limping around a couple of weeks ago.  And I've decided I should be in Venice for Carnivale when I go to Italy next spring, so not traveling to Phoenix a couple weeks prior is kind of a load off.  Not to mention that the Marine Corps Marathon is the one I really wanted to run anyway.  I'll get it next year.

I'd say I'm ashamed to have let Bernadette down, but really it's her own fault for believing in me in the first place.

This morning was the official kick-off for the Rock 'N Roll Marathon training season.  There was no actual running involved (I'm still two or three weeks away from that), so I was able to attend.  The festivities started at about nine o'clock in Rosslyn.  I got to the Metro a little after eight.  I wasn't expecting it to be crowded.

It seems there was a protest in DC this morning.  A bunch of uninformed and/or stupid people descended upon the National Mall for an astroturf rally organized and promoted by Glenn Beck and the Fox "News" Channel.  You might think that sharing my train ride with these mouth-breathers annoyed or angered me.  Well, you'd be wrong.  I learned a few things this morning.  For example, I'd thought this ridiculous "Tea Party" movement was an attempt to evoke the rebellious spirit of some of this country's more radical founding fathers.  It isn't.  "TEA" is an acronym, you see.  It  stands for "Taxes Enrage Americans."  I never would have known, but yeah - now that they mention it, paying taxes is balls.  I also learned a lot about "Obamunism."  One guy was just nuts about it.  I know he spoke truth to power because the woman sitting in front of me said he really "hit the nail on the head there."

I wish I could remember all of the other witty signs I saw.  I thought about taking a few pictures, but then decided that these people - these patriots - would want to shy away from the attention.  All they want is to be left alone and to point out that Barack Obama is history's greatest monster.  I admired the succintness of the sign that advocated "Deport Obama" but I have to admit my favorite was the one that (presumably) read: "I can't wait for Cuban style [health] care.  Yippee!!!"  "Health" was spelled incorrectly.

There was a small change at Hotrod.vox.com this afternoon.  You probably didn't notice, so I'll just tell you.  One of the links over there on the left used to say "Marine Corps Marathon."  Now it says "Rock 'N' Roll Marathon."  I officially signed up this morning.  Let's hope I make it further than six miles this time 'round.

My ankle has been much better lately.  I started using only one crutch last week, and now I'm skipping the crutches altogether when hobbling around the office.  This afternoon I walked five or six blocks for chinese food without the crutches.  That may not seem like much, but it's the longest I've walked unaided in well over a month.  And best of all, my leg wasn't screaming at me all afternoon.  I'm beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel - and just in time for the Autumn of Hotrod.

Official training begins September 19, but my physical therapist says I should be able to start running again earlier than that.  I sure hope so.  I never thought I'd say it, but I'm looking forward to running again.  Oh, and that link I mentioned?  It goes to my fundraising page.  Feel free to check it out if curing cancer is something you might be into.

Well, that was short-lived....

I had an appointment with an orthopedist/physical therapist this morning.  She spent two hours poking and prodding every square inch of my right leg below the knee and I spent two hours wincing and grimacing and trying not to cry like a little girl.  Her diagnosis was that I have a high ankle sprain or a stress fracture, and probably a stress fracture because that's all she talked about for the last forty minutes.  There's really no way to know for sure without an MRI (stress fractures often don't show up on x-rays) but really it's moot at this point.  In either case, I'm not going to be able to run for at least four to six more weeks.  So no Marine Corps Marathon.

I'm pretty bummed.  Not only am I going to miss the Marine Corps, but I'll also have to give up on the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in Virginia Beach that I was going to run with Daby and CarrieNation and Emma and a few other people.  I joked a lot in the month leading up to the start of training about not following through, but this was something I really did want to do.  What gets me the most is the timing of my injury.  I was just starting to feel good about running again, and I was gaining confidence that I could actually run twenty-six point two miles every time I got out.  That - if anything - is the silver lining.  Signing up for the marathon was a means to an end: I wanted to start running again.  As much as I love being out on the bike - and I think it's fairly obvious that's something I enjoy quite a bit - there's nothing quite like running.  I remember now that I've missed it.  It had been a long time, but I missed it.

So now I'm weighing my options.  I can switch over to the next marathon season, which won't interfere with a cycle event.  The Walt Disney World Marathon is the first week of January.  The training will probably start in September, so - knock wood - I should be healthy.  But that's an additional $2,000 of fundraising, which doesn't bother me per se, but will mean I'll probably have to alter my plans for next year.  I want to do the Tahoe ride in the spring, and we're adding a ride in Solvang, California for the fall season.  My second century was in Solvang, and I've been dying to get back there for four years.  If I do a marathon in January, the fundraising - not to mention the constant training for over a year - will be a bit much.  Plus - and this is no small thing - I'd really been looking forward to a local event and having the support of my friends along the way and at the finish.  The Marine Corps Marathon will be there next year, but there's much to be said for following through before I lose too much momentum.  I just don't know.

Man, what a depressing post this turned out to be.  I sincerely apologize to both my readers.  I didn't mean for it to turn out this way.  I'll try to make it up to you starting now: Your taste in music is terrible!  Pie is the best and brownies suck!  I'm the best at Scrabble!  Daby and Jodi are stupid!  Hmmm, I think I might just feel a little better. 

I walked home from the Metro tonight for the first time in over a week, and while that half-mile may not seem like a big deal, it's the longest I've walked at a stretch since my bad decision to hobble to the movies to see robots in the sky on the day I hurt my ankle.  I'd been taking cabs (and occasionally the King Street Trolley) back and forth.  But my leg was feeling much better today, so I thought I'd test it.  It's more sore now than it has been in a few days, but it's still not the sharp pain of a week ago.  It's more of a dull ache.  I've got my fingers crossed that I didn't do something stupid.  More than, you know, usual.

Yesterday, I had a small revelation.  The overall pain had subsided enough that I was able to isolate when my ankle hurt most and (probably) why.  I overpronate when I run - which means my foot leans to the inside more than it should.  I am also slightly splay-footed.  (Or duck-footed, if you prefer.)  So basically what I think had been happening is that my toes were pointed outward at the same time I was running too much on the inside of my feet.  It's no wonder I felt the pain first on the inside of my ankle.  I've dealt with this before, when I ran a lot in college.  In high school I had knee and hip problems (with the same leg).  I had to concentrate on my form while I was running in order to correct it - which I hadn't been doing since I'd been concentrating so much on just not stopping.

Anyway, I now think this is just a sprain, and that I had been feeling pain further up my shins because, well, everything hurt.  The most important thing is that I now know what causes more pain just getting around and I can avoid it.  I also learned how best to stretch my ankle to ease the pain.  This is obviously a setback, but I haven't yet given up on the marathon.  I've talked to my coaches, and they're not yet concerned about modifying the training schedule to accommodate my unfortunate layoff.  I hope they're right.  I mean, B-----e thinks I'm a badass.  I'd hate to let her down.

I got a call from my doctor's office on my way home from work.  The results of my x-ray finally showed up, and they called to tell me that everything is perfectly fine.  There's no evidence of swelling, no lesions or contusions or whatever the right terms are, no evidence of any trauma of any kind.  I should be skipping along merrily.  Naturally the woman on the other end of the line was as shocked as could be when I informed her that I was, in fact, still in a great deal of pain.  She even asked if I was sure.

So obviously I'm a big pussy, because my right leg still hurts like a motherfucker.  And I can still barely walk.  Fortunately, I'll have a pair of crutches tomorrow to help me rest my ankle more thoroughly.  I was supposed to have a pair today, but my co-worker somehow forgot between nine o'clock last night and this morning that she was supposed to bring them in.  I was, naturally, pleased as punch with that little nugget of information.

Sorry.  I'm a little salty today.  I wish I was anxious about a ten mile run this weekend, instead of being anxious about whether or not my window for realistically training for a marathon this year is rapidly closing.  On the upside, I'm not disappointed any more.  Now I'm just pissed off.

My doctor is French, and as it turns out I had an appointment already scheduled with him today just when I needed one.  I was supposed to get some blood work done as a follow-up to my last visit, but we spent most of the time talking about my gimpy ankle.  He took a look at it and diagnosed shin splints, which is what I had been expecting.  But since I've been a ball of nerves lately, I asked about the possibility of a stress fracture and he sent me to get an x-ray.  On the way out, he mentioned he shouldn't be working on the fourteenth of July.

The radiologist told me they would send the results of my x-ray to my doctor within forty-eight hours unless there was a fracture, in which case they would send them as soon as possible.  I'm really, really hoping that the fact that I haven't heard anything yet is good news and not because my doctor decided to take the afternoon off.

I had a frustrating morning.  This was supposed to be an uplifting tale of a glorious eight mile run, but instead I've nothing to share but pain and disappointment.  In the two weeks since I last mentioned this marathon thing, my runs had been going much better.  I had put together several runs of a few miles in a row without stopping.  Last Sunday, Dabysan and I hit the Mount Vernon Trail for a whopping six miles.  All along, six miles had been my benchmark - if I could get from zero to six, I'd know I could do the other twenty.  And last week went great.  I even remembered at the end why I used to enjoy running.  For the first time since I started this, I was actually looking forward to running this morning.

So I headed up to Maryland to meet up with my running (and riding) buddy.  A group was meeting at Grosvenor Metro to run along Rock Creek to the zoo.  We were going to run with them for the first few miles and then split off toward Bethesda, getting me to my eight.  I started out great at a slightly faster pace than I'd been running, but nothing unmanageable.  But after about a mile and a half, my right ankle started hurting, and I don't know why.  It felt like I twisted it, but I hadn't.  I kept at it for another half mile or so, but finally had to stop.  I stretched a little, but that didn't help.  We decided it made more sense to turn back than to continue and risk a more serious injury.

I know that stopping was the smart move and I'm trying not to feel discouraged, but next week is supposed to be ten miles.  I'd feel a whole lot better about ten if I had eight behind me.  Now I'm back to thinking this endeavor is insane.  And just when everything had been going so well....

I intended to run yesterday.  Really, I did.  But I hosted a happy hour fundraiser on Thursday, and my cycling friends who showed up conspired against me.  Even the runner.  They had been discussing the Lake Barcroft loop - a popular mid-week training ride, and decided on the spur of the moment to plan a ride for the next day because one (the runner) was a "Barcroft virgin."  I'd never done that ride either as it's virtually impossible to get to Arlington by six o'clock on a weekday.  And since it's a ride I can do literally from my door, it didn't take much convincing.  We weren't meeting until noon, and I briefly entertained the notion that I could get my run in early before the ride.  Then I stayed out until after midnight.  So that plan got all shot to hell.

Well, Barcroft lived up to its billing, with several nice rolling hills balancing out a somewhat convoluted cue sheet.  And I wasn't feeling especially guilty about skipping my run until I showed up this morning for the forty mile pie ride.  I had been planning on doing this ride for the last week, since we didn't have an official training run today.  But at least five people asked me "Aren't you supposed to be running?"
 
So on this day noted for bold proclamations of freedom and liberty, I hereby declare independence from my bike until October.  That's not to say I won't be riding at all.  (I've already been cleared by my running coaches to ride on Sundays for the next six weeks or so.)  What I mean is: yesterday was the last time that, when confronted with the choice to run or ride, I will opt to ride.  I will be free from my bike.  Sort of.  As I write this, the Tour de France is on in the background.  I still get to ride vicariously.

One thing I never thought was necessary on Saturday afternoons this past spring - no matter how long my training ride - was a nap.  This running thing is a whole different story.  I crawled out of the sack about a half-hour ago.  I didn't sleep at all, but it sure was nice just to lie down and close my eyes for an hour.  Man, I was cashed.

Today was my first run with the group and it went.... okay.  We did five miles - from Fletcher's Boathouse to the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue and K Street and back.  I didn't make it the whole five, but I know I ran at least four.  And I finished in under an hour.  I'm not going to go around bragging about my performance at this point, but I'll take it.  For the next month or so, my goal is simply not to become discouraged.  Besides, I'm supposed to take it easy for the time being anyway.  It's a long season.  There will be opportunities later to discuss my time.  You know, once I can run five consecutive miles without stopping.