Twenty-Eight Days Later
It's FRIDAY! The fact I'm on call this weekend and there is a threat of rain doesn't spoil my sunshine. Cuz I've got FANTASTIC news.
As you may know
been bombarded to death by my incessant posts on every form of social media/texts/emails
, I had my follow up appointment with my Ortho doc yesterday. That morning - 7 a.m. to be exact, I had my final PT appointment. Who ever decided PT should start that early should be bludgeoned - getting your butt kicked less than an hour after you open your eyes is essentially a crime in all fifty states. Nevertheless I made it - on time -
ready to get schooled
conquer this last session's butt. It didn't disappoint. By the end it was if I hadn't just showered two hours ago. Proof it went well in my book. I even got to use a piece of PT equipment the last two visits I've fantasized about. Ever since I first saw it and knew in my core I'd saunter up to it and give the best PT performance of my life. Till I sauntered up to it overconfident, under-caffeinated and made a fool out of myself.
I digress.
Dressed in my best please-let-me-run-again-I've-gained-5lbs-in-28 days-and-I'm-about-to-require-antidepressants attire, complete with the darling necklace my sole sista L gave us after our first half marathon. If that wasn't good juju, I don't know what is. Plus it's ridiculously cute. win-win.
Let's get to the good stuff, no?
The PA came in, made me do the one-leg, two-leg hop, asked about pain, poked for pain, and checked my hip/core/leg strength. As my therapist pointed out, I've still got some weakness in my hips, but it is making progress. She exits. I start to obsess all the possible scenarios - "you can never run again", "we need to break your leg", etc. You know, rational stuff only my over imaginative brain could conjure. So I start to cry. Shocker. Doctor interrupts my imaginary pity party and I thank God the tears welled up in my eyes hadn't fallen, and take a deep breath.
Pokes for pain, checks my chart, asks what I've been doing for the past twenty-eight days (it has to be bold, that is a LONG time to not do something you love - is this what addiction is like?) like I've been in detox at Betty Ford. Besides PT, I was fitted for custom orthotics, taking my vitamins, and cross training - Spin, Yoga, Turbo Fire, Walking. Everything but running. Which I said with deep emphasis. And hand gestures. He asked about my diet (which makes me believe he thinks I have an
over-
eating disorder even more), and I added in the fun fact that since he said to take in more calcium, I've made it's my life mission to cram as much ice cream, gelato, and fro yo into my body. Because I follow orders (he laughed at me obviously).
Long story longer - I can RUN again!
He had to repeat my instructions twice and then write them down because I was SO excited I stopped actively listening and was planning my first run in my head (he wasn't laughing at this point).
So, over the next six weeks:
I'll gradually build up my mileage
Cross train as much as I want
Do my PT exercises 3-4 times a week
Continue to take the vitamins he prescribed
Foam Roll every day
It goes without saying I updated my training log last night...
- And this morning?
I went for a run.
(source)
I didn't care that I could only run a mile, and the I was told to maintain "no faster than a 12 min/mile pace", I laced up this morning, stretched, and hit the pavement.
It. Was. Bliss.
I'm so happy to be back, and grateful, although I went through this process kicking and screaming at times. The doctor was right, this experience it really has made me a better runner.
