I haven’t even been able to look at my training spreadsheet for the last two weeks. I can’t bear to see all the miles that I haven’t run, the tempo that has a big fat zero next to it, the intervals that I imagine are eating a tub of ice cream – trying to get over being stood up. I’m injured and this is my pity party training log. Hope you brought some good snacks and some boots to wade though the whine.
The short story is, I had been feeling those ever so popular niggles we all dread. The day after a 20 miler, I was out for an easy jog and all it took was three steps of ‘ow, OW, OOOOOOOWWWWW!’. In the course of six feet my knee went from happily functioning appendage to tantrum throwing todder. I hobbled home and threw out a few choice words for all the lovely neighborhood walkers to hear and poor children on scooters to likely repeat. But dang it, my knee HURT!
So, of course my first thought was to just adjust my schedule by one day. I’ll do the interval work out on Wednesday and take a day off on Tuesday. Yep, a FULL DAY off running should cure my stinking knee of any and all ailments. How many times have we all thought that? A little ice here, a few pills there. I’d be back good and ready to roll. The schedule would not be denied!
Raise your hand if you are saying ‘pump the brakes there dandy, pump the brakes!’. I know I know. I prefer to think of it as blind optimism. Needless to say, I was not back in a day. I was barely walking in a day. I couldn’t get up the steps, I would wake up in the middle of the night because I flipped wrong. It was not something that was passing though, no, this pain was making a sandwich and taking up residence.
So the past two weeks have been hours of pool running. Hours…….. Of……… Pool……. Running. Honestly, if you want to torture someone, make them go pool running. I swear the clock actually goes into a time warp where minutes equate to days. Back and forth. Forth and back. Blah blah blah blah blah. And who knows if it’s actually doing anything. I can literally feel my fitness seeping out of my pores every time I touch the wall. People swear to me that they trained in the pool and still had good races. People also swear to me that fruit after dinner is an actual dessert. That, my Salty Friends, is not true.
The past two weeks have also had a lot of rolling, and stretching and icing and resting. My PT is unspecific with a diagnosis or a timeline. My friends remain optimistic but I am watching that starting line disappear… like Michael J. Fox and his siblings in that photo in Back to the Future.
I know that injury happens to ALL of us at one time or another. And they are all hard to deal with. They all interrupt the best made plans and force us into a pattern that we are not happy about. But for me this one is especially tough. My marathon training has been my saving grace these past few months. It’s been my focus when the other parts of my life are blurry. It’s put a smile in the place where tears were running rivers.
I’m not giving up just yet, but the reality side of me, you know the one who watches the Bachelorette, is starting to put together the concession speech. I know I will always find the sanity and the focus I need though running… but it just won’t be tomorrow. In the mean time, I’ll just keep baking!
The saga continues. Thanks for reading.