Life

How far can you bounce back, if deflated?

When I had to have the biopsy, I was told I could not train for a couple of weeks, but not to worry.  I was fit and healthy, I would bounce back.  Then, the surgery and no training for at least 3-4 weeks.  The nurse said, don’t worry honey, you will bounce back in no time!  Then, broken bone in the foot, and 8 weeks in the boot.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  I will bounce back.  Well, I am having trouble getting the height of bounce I expected.  A typical ball bounces because of the material on the outside and the air on the inside.  Have you ever successfully dribbled a basketball with no air in it?  No.  It hits the ground with a thud.   That’s been me, somewhat deflated.

While I haven’t been able to run for 8 weeks, I have been swimming, spinning and doing some strength work.  I’ve been really proud of my effort level in all of this.  In the past, I thought I was pushing myself, but hindsight is always clearer, and I see now that I really had not been.  I’ve been feeling pretty good.  I’ve been feeling strong and accomplished.  That is in all areas except one.  My weight.  I’ve had lots and lots of different doctor appointments and they love to weigh you at each one.  At the first mammogram, I remember thinking “hmm those last 5 or so pounds to my goal weight just won’t come off.”  Then the next appointment “oh crap, maybe a heavy breakfast now has me a couple of pounds more over my goal weight.”  Then it was, “Dang.  ok, 10 pounds over.  What’s the point right now anyway?  I won’t be able to work out now so I know I am going to gain a bit.  Oh well.”

Looking back, I know that as positive as I tried to be, there was something inside that was anything but.   Some part of me was sad, mad, and frustrated.  So much was out of my control and I felt like an innocent bystander caught in a crossfire.  I kind of gave up a little, without even realizing it was happening.  A naughty meal here and there, turned into Zinger Mountain Melts and Dairy Queen more often than I care to think about.  Before I knew it, I gained 15 pounds!  What’s funny, is I don’t feel overweight.  I feel pretty fit actually.  Then, I see a photo of myself.  Or, I go to put something on that I used to love wearing and realize it doesn’t quite fit right.  That’s when it hits me.  Hard.  I distribute my weight evenly, thank goodness, so people don’t quite realize how much I have gained.  I have used the excuse of “doing what makes me happy” because we only live once.  I wanted something, I craved something, and I’d say life should be lived!  Ok, I will have it.  Then I hate that I ate it, and would tell myself the next meal would be healthy.  The cycle would repeat itself, sometimes without me even realizing it.  I have been having this internal battle for months now.

I had told myself that once I started to train, especially when I started to run, the pounds would just melt off.  I had really hoped they would.  I am embarrassed and this is something I hoped would be resolved before feeling the need to even share it.  The truth is, you can’t outrun a bad diet.  Happiness from bad food is fleeting.  That two second pleasure of an amazing chocolate chip cookie is nothing compared to seeing a photo of myself and not wanting to burn it!  I am happiest when I see a photo of myself that looks like I feel.  A photo that accurately represents the fact that I wake up early 6-7 days a week and train.  A photo that shows me looking as strong as I feel.  I had that before, and when I did, I could still have that chocolate chip cookie every now and then.  I had the best of both worlds, but somehow along the line I got deflated and just wasn’t able to bounce back.  I had a great conversation with a friend the other night, and come to find out she goes through the exact same thing.  At least I know I am not crazy, or if I am, I am not alone in my crazy!    After that talk, I got to thinking about why I hadn’t changed things yet.  Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself.  Maybe I was hoping that with all the work, the food wouldn’t matter.  I don’t know, but I decided I was done.  I either want this bad enough or I don’t.  I needed to just snap out of it and do what needs to be done until I get where I want to be.   I started yesterday and I already feel like I’m pumping myself up.

Life, Triathlon

Oh, Snap!

Sometimes after a fresh start, the light changes and you have to stop.  That’s what I felt like the other day.  Literally a couple of hours after I wrote that last post, I found out that I would not be running for at least 4-8 weeks.  Why?  Well, I have a broken bone in my foot.  Yeah, I was just as surprised as you are, but I guess I should not have been, given the pain was pretty bad here and there.  I think I just had too much going on to really pay attention to it.

Months ago, I had foot pain.  Since I have my Google Doctorate and can self diagnose like a boss, I chalked it up to something called sesamoiditis.  There are these small bones in your feet called sesamoid bones and sometimes the area around them gets angry and inflamed because of overuse.  I iced, I rolled I did warm foot baths, etc.  It seemed to help, which matched up pretty good to the symptoms and treatments.  I knew I would be resting for a few weeks after surgery, so I figured I’d be killing two birds with one stone.

When I started back to full training, the first day was an intense one hour strength session.  While doing my 60 walking lunges, my foot hurt again.  Dang, I thought.  Maybe I should have stretched it better or warmed up more.  When it came to do single leg calf raises, I had to stop and rest every 5 because the pain came back.  In hindsight, of course, I should have stopped completely, but hey in the moment, I was trying to be a badass!

The next day it ached and ached, but didn’t actually hurt when I was on the bike trainer.  I rubbed it out and told Darin I needed to get it checked.  It really hurt but I was so excited to be back to training that I think I kind of tried to ignore it.  When I went for my short run, there was a dull ache but I think I was so focused on making sure my boob didn’t feel weird or ache, that I didn’t give the foot too much thought.  The following strength day, it hurt again.  It was always when I pushed the big toe up, like in a lunge or whatever.  At work that day, I searched for a local walk in center that had x-ray capabilities and told myself I would go over the weekend.

Weekend came and went and while my foot ached and I complained about it, I didn’t go.  Looking back, I think I knew it was worse than I had hoped.  Monday was strength again, and I could not do my lunges properly.  I had to twist my knee in so that the brunt of the weight was on my smaller toes and the ball of my foot just was not having it.  When it came to calf raises, I foolishly did most of them and then stopped because the pain was too much.  I knew I needed to go in, so I left work and headed over to the local urgent care center.  The nurse took all my info and blood pressure, which she said was a bit high at the moment.  I knew why.  The same thing happened when I went to see the surgeon for the first time.  My nerves had me, I knew it was not going to be the news I wanted but just didn’t know what it would be.  I spoke to the doctor, who ordered x-rays and I waited on pins and needles for her to come back into the room once we were done.

She came in and started with a question.  “How long ago did you say you noticed the pain?”  My response was a month or more, but it seemed to subside.  She took me over to view the x-ray with her.  She showed me the sesamoid bones, one of which was cracked open pretty good.  She pointed out that it had began to heal, so it had been a while.  I explained that I rested it after surgery and that seemed to make sense to her.  Her next words were “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you can’t run for a while.”  What’s a while?  Somewhere around 4 to 8 weeks depending on how it heals and how good I am about wearing a restrictive shoe or boot during that time.  In my mind I was like my kid when I take away video games.  I was desperate for something.  I needed to think quick, yeah, negotiate something,  “I have a question,” I said.  “When I ride my bike on the trainer, it doesn’t hurt at all.  Can I keep doing that?”  Her response was something along the lines of “you desperate fool!”  Just kidding, she was kind, but I think that’s what she wanted to say.  She said she certainly could not recommend that, but I could talk to a podiatrist if I wanted to.  She said that she has seen others with similar issues, and that there is a pad that can be placed under the foot that takes the pressure off that particular bone and if worn with a very stiff soled shoe, it could be ok to do certain things.  She threw me a bone, and I loved her for it.  She told me the pads were available on Amazon and even printed a picture out for me.  She gave me a prescription for a strong anti-inflammatory and a boot, and sent me on my way.

I headed home and was trying to digest things.  I’m not going to lie, I had a split second of watery eyes when I was telling Darin what happened, but I was quick to also inform him that I genuinely was ok.  Did you know that you cannot find a walking boot locally?  Amazon it is.   I called Darin over when I was looking for the right one.  I only needed the basic most ugly clunker out there, but there was a pretty sharp storm trooper looking one for a couple bucks more.  Heck, if I am wearing it for a month or two, may as well like it.

It seemed surprising to the doctor that I could not recall when I actually broke it.  She said that it was likely a small fracture that at some point I ran too hard on or did something to push it over the edge and have it split if I could not recall a trauma to it.  Darin and I started to try to think about when I first felt the foot pain.  It was so weird because I remember feeling it for a while but never in a million years would I have thought it was a break or even a hairline fracture.  The pain got bad only at a couple of points, otherwise it was very tolerable.  I went back over my training notes and the morning after a long run in January, I told my coach that I stepped out of bed and my foot really hurt.  I assumed it was a cramp or tightness and rubbed it out and did my bike workout.  It was fine on the bike but ached some after.  I iced it, rolled it and stayed off it a day or so and it seemed ok.  There was always a dull ache, but nothing to be concerned about.  That’s also right when I got the word that I needed to start having all these breast cancer screens and tests.  I think I just focused on the bigger demon and let the little one lie.  My best guess is that I probably had a hairline fracture at that time.

About a week before we did the Star Wars runs, Darin and I went on a training run together.  My notes say that about a mile into the run, I felt a really sharp pain and had to stop a second.  He and I instantly remembered.  I landed funky on a bad sidewalk and made one of those gasps right away.  I am pretty sure that’s what did it.  That was the straw that broke the sesamoid’s back.  (That’s the saying, right?)  That is my best guess as to when it finally split.  I rested it after that, knowing we had the event the next weekend.  I am kind of glad I didn’t know then, what I know now.  I ran a 10k and a half marathon the weekend after it happened.  Had I known, I would have been told not to run and experiencing that with D2 made me so happy!  Yeah, it probably wasn’t good for my foot, but with everything going on, it was good for my spirit!

Over the past several months, I have learned a lot and am still learning.  I am learning to control the things I can, and react the best possible way to the things I can’t control.  There’s a quote by Marcus Aurelius that says “Choose not to be harmed—and you won’t feel harmed. Don’t feel harmed—and you haven’t been.”   I try to think of that now whenever I react to something.  The word “harmed” is interchangeable with so many things, sad, mad, frustrated, etc.  The first  thought in my head when she said it was broken was, “really?, Could anything else go wrong?” and then I realized….. YES, a lot more could go wrong!   So, I choose not to be bummed or feel sorry for myself.  I choose to love my fate, and do my best to learn from the struggles it presents me.  I cant’ run for 4-8 weeks and I have to wear a boot.  There are so many people out there that have so much more to overcome.  I still have my health, there are so many things I can still do, even with a boot!