Timing is everything. There's never a good time for a runner to sustain an injury, but some times are worse than others. Now is one of the worst times. I had just been getting back into the groove of training in eager anticipation of some marquee races coming up over the next few months. But for the past several weeks, I've been having intermittent pain along my left ankle/foot area. Finally, it got the the point where I could no longerignore it. An xray at John's office revealed a bone spur. In order to get a closer look, he ordered an MRI. I almost cancelled the appointment because just a few days before the scheduled test I ran a fast three miles without incident.
The MRI was Thursday night and by Friday I could hardly walk because the pain was so intense. The original problem was flaring up and now I was also experiencing a cramping pain along the outer edge of my foot. After work, we drove straight to John's office for cortisone injections and a removable walking cast.
I was inconsolable. I spent the entire day in bed on Saturday, exhausted and hurting-- both physically and emotionally. Forget about running. I could hardly move my foot without the support of the ungainly cast.
My gloom persisted this morning. To get my mind off things, John forced me out of the house for breakfast and a few errands. Came home and turned to my iPod for comfort... listened to Godhead and Avenged Sevenfold-- loud, angry music to drown out the feelings of sadness and disappointment. It's not fair. It sucks. I'm extremely uncomfortable.
Fuck it. I can only take so much drama from myself before I start to get annoyed with the person in the mirror. How dare I bitch and moan when the tv is filled with images from Japan? My stupid foot problem? Trivial. Then I started to think about the bright shining examples of courage that are right in front of me every day. Sara-- who sustained a near disastrous fall that left her with a severe head injury and broken back. She came back from those serious injuries to run the Boston Marathon (with a broken toe) a year or so afterwards. Bonnie-- who survived breast cancer and became a triathlete. Sue-- who had a brain anuryism and also recovered with grace and dignity to once again start biking, swimming and running. Once again-- my stupid foot problems, compared to what they overcame? Trivial. So trivial.
Right now I'll throw out the soggy kleenexes, swallow a couple of Advil and face a brand new week tomorrow. I know I'll have bouts of sadness and uncertainty during the healing process. But I'll have just as many moments of strength and recovery. Sure, I may miss a few races, but don't count me out yet.
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