Peace of Mind? Priceless

elliptical 35 minutes

Last night, after writing my Zen post for my ankle, my friend Elizabeth came over for tea and catching up. The State of the Ankle being a topic of conversation, I revealed to her the game plan of Marathon March 21st, and that I was still going to try to do the Pilot Half on the 20th of Feb.

She did not like my game plan. Her not liking it caught the attention of the little worried voice in my head that also didn't like my game plan. I poked around my ankle, and found that it hurt above the joint. It could be a high ankle sprain, which I read online was worse and harder to rehab than a normal one. Nothing link the internet to fuel worry.

Of course, I had also forgotten to take my Meloxicam that morning, due to my insanely early wake 5am wake up time.

I went to bed and my ankle hurt. I woke up this morning and it still hurt, so much so that I had to limp to the bathroom.

As I was sitting around on the couch doing more doomsday high ankle sprain reading and more ankle poking and more elliptical good/bad waffling, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I called an orthopaedist and booked an appointment for 2pm today.

The official, professional diagnosis? Severe Grade 1 sprain to the front most lower tendon. Not a high sprain, and before the word "severe" makes you balk, it was NOT a Grade 2 or Grade 3 sprain. Grade 1 sprains are quick to rehab if done properly, and when asked, he said that my March 21st marathon goal would still be attainable.

He did want me to go for some physical therapy, though. Without it, he said that the chances of repeating my injury within 4 weeks were extremely high. Most people try to rehab these things on their own, and because they don't retrain the actual nerves in the ankle to relink with the brain, and because they rush, and because they don't work on balance and ankle strength exercises, they wind up crashing and burning.

Basically, he described my original game plan. It's not that I didn't plan on including strength training and balance in there somewhere, but I had no idea how to do it correctly. And the internet is no physical therapist.

BUT. He ALSO gave me an unequivocal YES to getting back to the elliptical. I can't do any more damage (unless I manage to fall off it), and it's a good way to regain strength.

Tomorrow AM is my first physical therapy session. No, my insurance is not going to cover it, so it's out of pocket. But I would gladly shell out to invest in my personal health and well being. Most importantly, it's going to give me the peace of mind to continue my rehab confidently and safely.

Who knew that Mastercard could be so spot on? Some things really are priceless.

The Ankle Sprain of Ivan Ilyich

35 minutes elliptical

This morning I woke up and my ankle hurt. More than yesterday. In fact, more than it had in a while. I went off to work to bake, a 5:30am start time, deciding that I wasn't going to let it get in the way of my day. I was going to stick to my game plan.

Except that I've never had an injury where worrying about pain is even a choice. Really. Either my own craziness or the horse industry or both ensured that I muscle my way through all the various breaks, bruises, concussions, spills, etc that came my way. I've ridden with a broken back, a leg the size of a tree trunk, and bruised toes. And that's just the stuff that I know of. You had to, one because if you didn't ride you didn't get paid, and two, the horses couldn't learn that a cute buck or spin was all it took to get out of a days work. That and the mentality of the sport.

So with this injury, it's been the first time that I've actually gotten the chance to think about the pain as an indicator of participation ableness. And think I have. It's not the worst pain I've ever had, not by a long shot, in fact, it doesn't even really hurt all that much. But I do know that running is not riding. Riding doesn't have much impact. At all. It's going to hurt to ride with a broken bone, but it's not going to rebreak the bone or do any other permanent damage. Running is nothing but impact. It jangles everything, so everything matters.

I came home from work and it didn't feel too much better. But it didn't feel too much worse, either. I thought about how bad the pain was, where it radiated from, whether or not it hurt more on impact or on coming off the ground, if it was achy or stabbing, and what it all meant for my planned elliptical cycle. Yes, it was a sprain, it was bound to hurt a little bit, if I waited until there was zero pain it could be at least a month away. But was this pain the don't work it kind? Or the work through it kind?

Suddenly I felt like the title character in a short story written by Tolstoy. In it, Ivan Ilyich laments and scrutinizes his own painful death every second of every day, until the pain itself becomes a separate character in his life.

Which is how my sprained ankle felt. I was thinking about it so much, so constantly aware of it, that it had grown into something bigger than itself. Yes, it is to be taken seriously. But no, it's not the end of the world, nor should it define me right now. I am not an ankle sprain.

So on went the sneakers and onto the elliptical I went. When it was over, I felt fantastic. I iced the ankle, and it felt loose and lubed up. No more pain even when I walked. And now, hours later, it still feels great.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, instead of "oh, the pain! the pain!" I will think "Ok, time to go buy those textbooks!" There's only room for one main character in my life.

Milestone of Rest

Still couch surfing

In the past week, besides occasionally going to class or work, here is the amount of physical activity I've done:

35 minutes of slow elliptical.

I feel completely fine with that.

Which represents a real milestone for me as an athlete and as a person.

For those of you who don't know, and I'm guessing that's the majority of you, I've had a rocky relationship with working out stemming from a bout of anorexia coupled with exercise addiction back in college. For most of my sophomore and all of my junior year, I was a complete wreck. During the course of a normal day, I would have panic attacks if I didn't complete the following list every day:

Run one mile
Elliptical for 90 minutes
Stationary bike for 30-60 minutes
Dance (part of my major) about 3 hours a day

In addition to that list, I had rehearsals, walked to classes (Penn State is a big campus), and held down a part time job.

Not surprisingly, I developed a stress fracture in my hip that sidelined me to disastrous eating habit results. Each day that passed I agonized over the "weight" that I was going to gain, about the exercise I wasn't doing, about how it was going to wreck absolutely everything and I would never be able to catch up.

When the stress fracture healed, I jumped right back into my routine. It wasn't until I fixed elements completely outside of weight/exercise that things began to get better.

I've never been as bad as I was back then. But exercise, for a long long time, held a place of "must do to stay thin" rather than "want to do because I enjoy it." As such, there was a dangling ax of extra poundage should I not perform my routine of 45 minutes of cardio and either upper body or lower body for weights. 6 days a week, the gym became somewhat of a prison rather than an escape.

Jump to now. I've sat around on my butt ALL WEEK, doing NOTHING, NOT changing my eating habits except for I'm not carb loading like I was last week in preparation for my disastrous Uwharrie 20 miles. I've been on the scale and yes, it has gone up. But I honestly (no, honestly for those of you who know me) DO NOT CARE. Compared to a lifetime of running, what does one measly week mean? Once I'm up and running again, I know those few pounds will go away. And even if they don't, I'm going to run a fricking marathon. Please.

The elliptical yesterday was a good test run. 35 minutes, and I came off none the worse for wear and feeling no pain today. Tomorrow I'll get back into my MTW FSAt routine. Today is one more day off to prep for that.

So this week, there was no new long run mileage to boast of, no faster split or amazing hill work. There was me. And my couch. And my Hulu. Which all adds up to a milestone.

Not Running Sucks

No distance - Couch surfing - Mental Running - Nada

For those of you just tuning in, on Saturday I fell whilst being overzealous on a nonforgiving National Forest trail, and performed a bit of magic: I turned my left ankle into a left cankle.

So here I am, on the couch, where I've been for the majority of the time since Saturday afternoon. I've got prescription ultra aspirin, I've got a lace up ankle brace (o, excuse me, cankle brace), I've got a cat, I've got an icepack, I've got a computer, and I've got time. Lots of time.

I would like to say that this is a chance for me to relax and get in touch with my running Chi. Trouble is, that only took about one day. And my running Chi said, "Hey, know what would be great? If we ran. That would be great."

To add insult to literal injury, the weather for the past two days has been glorious. 60 degrees and Carolina Blue skies in the middle of January. Not even the first day of class could put a damper on that.

So I watched it from my window, not even able to walk around a park and feeling guilty not sitting outside because I feel guilty when I don't spend time with my kitties when I can.

There are times when you can't really appreciate what you have, what you love to do, until you can't do it anymore. This is one of those times.

When I was in the horse industry, one of the things we did to get extra energy out of the horses, who are usually cooped up in their stalls 24/7 on the road, is longe them. Imagine hooking a 20 foot leash to a horse, standing in one spot, and letting the horse canter around and around you while you stayed put. For the most part, the horses really loved it. They stretched their legs and bucked and felt their muscles before having to settle in and go to work for the day.

At one stable, I worked with a woman who woke up at 5am to go for a 45 minute jog before work, even though she rode about 6-7 horses a day and trained as well. When I asked her why, she replied, "I have to longe myself in the morning, otherwise I don't feel right."

That phrase stuck with me, and I heard myself repeating her words on many a run. I have a lot of energy. If I don't get it out, it makes me feel oogy. Right now, my oog factor is off the chart.

I know that I still have to take my time, and I'm not about to do something stupid to make an already tough situation worse. But all the posts lately about not having fun while running, not wanting to go for my run, having it be a chore because it's part of a "program" are now gone.

Next week, when the weather is nice and I'm testing out my legs again, I know that it will be hard for me not to want to buck a little. After all, I won't have been longed for over a week.

Sidelined

Uwharrie National Park - 17 miles running, 2.5 walking at a slow, painful pace

This run was supposed to be 20 miles, and my longest run ever. I knew that the terrain was difficult, more-so than anything around Greensboro that I was used to, but I also knew we would go at a slow pace. I trusted the guys I was running with. I wasn't worried.

Until we began the run. Immediately, the path was littered with large, jagged boulders. The sort of path that makes you think, "wow, if I were to fall, I could get really hurt here." Things didn't improve as the rocks stayed even though the path went sharply downhill. And uphill.

Did I mention that? Uphill. The types of hills that would make you cringe even if you were on a hike, not a 20 mile run. Still, we were going slow and I was doing ok.

But I was not having fun.

At the 9.5 turn around point, I decided that all I wanted to be was back at the car. I wanted to be finished. So I took off from the main pack.

Bad idea.

Because at around total distance mile 16.5/17, I was coming down a hill towards a creek. My muscles were gone, my stability was nill, and my mental concentration departed a few miles back. I was contemplating good possible first date locations with a newly acquired "match" from the internet.

And then my ankle rolled. And I heard a snap. And down I went.

Immediately, the area above my sneaker on my left foot looked like someone injected it with water. It was a cankle.

My first reaction was please please please let this not be a broken ankle in the middle of Uwharrie National Forest.

My second reaction was pissed. PISSED. What was this going to do to my training schedule? My March 6th Marathon goal? My long run distance total?

Then, as I started the long, inevitably boring and scary walk back to the parking lot, another reaction started to take over. Something between resignation and peace. Basically, a "there's nothing I can do about it now, and it could have been worse, at least you're still up and walking, and maybe it's good for you to slow down," sort of reaction.

I was not expecting this reaction.

Now it's the day after. I've been off the cankle as much as possible, and have gotten it checked out by a doctor. Nothing is busted. I can elliptical by Friday, and probably run again next week, with only one week lost in training.

I'm still amazingly lucky. It still could have been a lot worse. And in many ways, it's a good thing. Here is a list of things I've learned:

1) I love trail running, I don't like dangerous running. If I'm afraid that a fall may hurt me, chances are I'm right, and as soon as the actual terrain stops me from having fun, I know that it's too much. I've had enough danger in my life riding horses, and while I still love the trails, I don't feel the need to over-do the dare-devil aspect of them.

2) I need to keep my elliptical in my weekly cross train. The last few weeks its been "all running," and I think that's why my muscles were a little too tired for this monster.

3) I need to STAY WITH THE GROUP WHEN I TRAIN. I'm sure that had I stayed with the guys instead of being in a hurry to finish, I would have stayed safe and still be running.

4) I can't overface my muscles. Even without the cankle, I would be down for the count simply because my thighs and butt feel like someone put them through a meat grinder. I know all about muscle pain, good and bad, and this is definitely in the latter category.

So here I am. Cankle on pillow, doctors orders in my head, and lots of lessons learned.

Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

1/14 - Lake Daniels/Latham Park Greenway - 7.2 miles out and back

My run schedule was supposed to be Mon Wed Thurs Fri Sat. But Wednesday, I just couldn't get up the motivation to do anything. First I just kept bumping the run back. Then I said I would go ahead and elliptical instead. In the end, though, my butt never left the couch. But in a rare instance of body listening, I felt ok with that. I knew that if I HAD ellipticalled, my Thursday run would have been sloggy. I had a very intense start to the week. My body needed an extra day off.

So Thursday, I decided instead of running on the trail, I would do the Greenway. I wanted to get the full benefit of the amazingly warm weather. I wanted to really stretch my legs and up my pace. At about mile 5, I lifted into my running high, where I was so happy to be able to run, thankful for my good strong legs and lungs. I also knew that had I NOT taken the day before off, I wouldn't have been feeling so wonderful. I would have been miserable.

For my whole life, I've ridden horses, which trains you to NOT listen to your body: if you don't ride, you don't get paid. I've ridden with a broken collar bone, a broken back, a knee the size of a grapefruit after being kicked, and countless broken toes.

None of that is possible when you run. It's only you. You need all of you in good condition. I'm slowly learning how to trust and listen to my body, so that it can tell me when it needs a break, when I need to push it, and when it's content to just coast along.

Oh the Joys...?

Reedy Fork - 7.4 out and back

So today, I went out to Reedy Fork ready to have a blast, thinking that as the trees sped by I would be composing in my head an Ode to the wonders of trail running. Then, about 1.5 miles in, I started to think, "wait, this isn't that fun," which changed about a mile later to, "why am I tired today?" and concluded at the 3.7 end point with, "Ok, hold the phone, where is my euphoria?"

A bit of background info: I decided last week to sign up for the Payback Mountain Marathon. If this sounds like a behemoth, that's because it is. Its a marathon. On a mountain. A Big Mountain.

And it's my first marathon.

The days following my online signature centered around marathon research. Glycogen stores, water intake, something about a wall. I also attempted to piece together some sort of training program that would up my mileage to the needed 26.6 mark. My longest run to date had been 17 miles, and the marathon was only a little more than a month away.

So today, on my run, these thoughts started to swirl about on the way back to the trail head. I was tired, duh, because I had travelled all the previous day and had scarfed down a hurried dinner of Honey Nut Cheerios at 12:30 am before crashing into bed for a fitful 7 hours of sleep. My legs also felt bogged down because my run, usually a go-as-you-please rollick in the woods, was now part of a "training regimen," necessary to accomplish my "goal" of running a "MOUNTAIN MARATHON."

My legs were not enthused. I was not having fun.

In the last 2 miles, though, I said to myself, "Hey, you didn't sign in blood. There will be other marathons. You may take a hit on the entry fee, but if you do it, you will get yourself into serious trouble. Relax! This is meant to be fun!"

And all of a sudden, it was again. The training schedule evaporated, my muscles loosened up, and I coasted back to the trailhead feeling infinitely lighter.

So while 2010 will be the year of the marathon, February will not be the month.

Off N Running!

I'm not a natural runner. I never have been. If you asked me ten years ago if I would consider running a marathon, I would have glanced over my shoulder, thinking you must have been talking to the insane person standing behind me.

Yet, here I am. 27 (28 by the time of the big day) and a runner.

The progression came slowly, through a series of motivations and circumstances. The first time I ran of my own free will as an activity in and of itself (not in conjunction with soccer, for example), was after my freshman year of college. After gaining the usual first year of all you can eat/drink/no parents around weight, I came home depressed. Naturally active and slim as a kid, this was the first time I had to make changes to my routine in response to added pounds. I began running one mile every day.

I hated it.

After other changes, the weight did come off slowly, but the aversion to running remained. I decided to log endless hours on the elliptical instead. Yes, I hated that too, but at least I could read girlie magazines as a distraction.

Over the years, my boredom of the elliptical started to top my remembered aversion to running, and my 35 minutes of cardio slowly transferred over to the treadmill. And when I ran, I RAN. None of this "jogging" crap. 7.0 miles an hour, minimum.

I hated it.

Then, I started to run outside. And I hated it less. While working at a job in Washington DC, I took to going outdoors for the 35 minutes. I learned the back roads of Cleveland and Woodley park. I found amazing architectural gems hidden in the back corners of Observatory Circle.

I hated it less. Much less.

Once outside, running started to become a stress outlet rather than a stress creator. I even had a favorite out-and-back trail that, upon running it for the last time prior to my move to Greensboro, produced a tear or two. I upped the time of my runs until I did one "long" run a week of an hour. Six miles on the average.

Six miles!

Still, I didn't consider myself a "runner," since riding horses remained my primary physical, and professional, activity.

After moving to Greensboro, I saw a weekly Wednesday night trail run schedule hanging up on the BB of my roommate's kitchen, and thought it would be a great way to meet new friends. I went to my first trail run with that intention in mind.

Instead, I fell in love with the trails.

From there, I started to run greater and greater distances, with surprising ease. When someone suggested that I enter an upcoming 8K that a local running store sponsored, I replied that I didn't want to race; I wasn't really a runner.

The guy looked at me and said, "Sophie, hate to break it to you, but you're a runner."

And it's true. I am a runner. And I love running.

One step at at time, though. :)