As I type this post, I’m watching Game 2 of the World Series. I’m also watching my eyes get assaulted by a one MR. WILL SCHUSTER (from Glee) singing the National Anthem. 2010 brought us Lady Antebellum. 2012 brings us Mr. Schu. Somehow this doesn’t seem fair. To anyone involved.
- Stress fracture in the heel – requiring crutches/boot
- Slamming my hand in the car door trying to get said crutches/boot in safely
- Dropping the base of our VITAMIX BLENDER (approximately 10 lbs – no joke) and in an effort to shield my precious broken heel, breaking it’s fall with my thigh. Resulting in a massive bruise
- Said crutches bruising my ribcage
Yeah, this blender is HUGE.
- As I ran the Nike Half (yes I ran all 13.1 miles on a now-stress fractured heel), I thought it was at most, a twisted ankle. I kid you not. I never in a million years thought a bone in my foot was fractured with tiny cracks. Never. I would never have run a half-marathon on a foot that could be broken. I told myself it was probably a minor sprain, maybe from wearing flip-flops on weekends or heels during the week. I told myself it wasn’t serious and it would stop hurting as soon as I stopped running. Nerves, pre-race jitters, you name it, I convinced myself that was it.
- Setting up my iPhone 5 was the catalyst here. I had just come home from a Spin class, was utterly exhausted from having to crutch around the Marina and our apartment, and was getting beyond frustrated trying to set up (and failing miserably) my iPhone 5 while simultaneously hopping/crutching around the apartment trying to get ready for the day. Enter pity party. Enter boyfriend being a complete saint (as usual) and talking some sense into me. “No Kristine your life has not ended because you logged exactly 0 miles the last 10 days. No you can’t die from lack of mileage. Yes I’m sure you will run again at least once in your life.” (I’m kidding on the exact context, I swear I’m not that much of a headcase.)
- Stemming from the anger, I then got sad. I convinced myself my running days were over, and I would probably never again be able to wear my beautiful Stuart Weitzman heels, much less run in my BRAND NEW Pure Flows. I would never experience NYC, Chicago or the Boston Marathon. I’d never again wake up early, do my pre-race ritual and toe the line at one of my favorite SF half-marathons. So I got depressed. Very depressed. So depressed that I went on Amazon, bought a Speedo bathing suit, swim cap and goggles to start my new career as an Olympic Swimmer. (That did actually happen and it will arrive tomorrow thank you very much 2-day Amazon Prime shipping.)
- This happened on Monday. Well if I don’t run for 2 weeks then I’ll probably still be able to do the Us Half. Then, Okay maybe not the beginning of November, but definitely a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving. Followed by If I swim every day I won’t lose any fitness or hurt my foot and I can easily run a half in December. And then Worst comes to worse the Superbowl Half I’m signed up for in early February will absolutely happen.
- The end result? I have no idea when my next race will be. I’ve accepted it – it’s reality and it’s happening. I won’t lie – that’s a pretty crappy feeling. I’m taking it day by day, I’m staying positive (when I’m not swearing in my car from slamming my hand in the door or yelling obscenities in my apartment after dropping a Vitamix on my thigh). I’m going to start swimming tomorrow (alternating it with biking and some sets of abs whenever I can) and just pray to the running/foot gods that I’m cleared to run by the New Year. I have a follow up with a specialist next Friday so FINGERS CROSSED EVERYONE. (Please just cross them.)
With that, GO GIANTS! and have a lovely Thursday evening!