No habla, Espanol
Considering I speak as if English isn't my first language (it is), I'm surprised anyone can keep up with my random rambling, and apologize for the garbled mess of explaining everything.
FINALLY, I'm taking time to express my emotions - good, bad, and indifferent and explain the journey that is my first injury.
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After the Hospital Hill half mary in June, I began having pain in my lower leg. Brushing it off as post race aches I did what I knew (foam roll, ice, rest) to try and alleviate the symptoms. When I thought I felt better, I started running again. And the pain got worse.
Knowing full marathon (my first) training began in August, I was concerned about training while in pain/being injured/etc, so I solicited help from an orthopedic physician.
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Devastated by the news I threw myself into
crying/wine/napping
recovery.
Took all the vitamins he prescribed daily, plus a few extra I had lying around and been long overdue to take. What?! I'm honest to a fault...
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Consumed copious amounts of Calcium, cuz that heals bones. Duh.
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Got my butt kicked in Physical Therapy, times eight visits
Walked my first race since I began running in 2012. Which, in hindsight was a great experience to enjoy the course and snap photos along the way I never do when I race. Surely it comes as no surprise I got emotional after crossing the finish. Humbled, I poured myself into PT, cross training, and finding gratitude in each day. Sometimes it worked, and other times, well there were lots of tears. And giant pity parties.
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After four long weeks, I was released back
into the wild
to my normal activities and you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face.
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The next morning I went for a short run around my neighborhood- and it. felt. incredible.
Thankfully, my ortho laid out a gradual plan for me to ease back into training/running. And I followed it. (1, 1, 1.5, 1.5, you get the drift)
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Continued cross training
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So much so I had to take my show on the
road
field. There was so much fun being had cross training I should have quit my job and become a
hobo
cross training badass.
Plus I couldn't slack off if I wanted to, the hounds are tough trainers. Viscous, really.
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My ortho prescribed orthotics (more info - here), which put my vomit-of-the-mouth on high alert and I blurted, "please don't make me wear braces, weird boots, or wonky shoes, I'm single and that definitely will stamp my passport to spinster-hood."
Praise Jesus the orthotist had a sense of humor. He really shouldn't expect anything less when he has a "wall of horror" in the exam room. Word.
Foam Rolling. Learn it, like it, love it. Hurts so good I could do it all day, but won't cuz it hurts. Travel rolling - bringing a tennis/softball with you (purse/desk/suitcase) to work on sore spots without strapping the whole roller to your back like a guitar. Cuz people will stare. Cover yours in dog hair like mine and you get inducted to the club. For awesome people.
Resumed running with my sole sista and the hounds. Kept up the physical therapy pain train on my own. On the real, ain't-nobody-got-time for two hours of PT exercises 4-5 times a week, so I implemented a few in each day, and kept up with PT weight training at the gym. In addition to the burning brimstone of hell they call rehab, my (awesome, triathalon competing) physical therapist gave me some great advice:
// Rotate your shoes every run; they need 48 hours to rest and firm back up
// Dynamic Stretch before (examples, here) your run; static stretch after
// Foam roll. Everyday
// Cross train. Weak hips don't come from leg presses and bosu balancing
// Plank. All three sides. Every other day
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Everything was falling into place for the race I'd been looking forward to all summer -
or so I thought.
-- to be continued --
