Perspectives change

This time 2 weeks ago, I was enjoying a glass of bubbly as I wandered around the silent auction, trying to decide what to place my bets on. I had come to peace with the fact that I would not be running the Shamrock Shuffle the next day, nor would I be running Rock n Roll Nashville at the end of the month. My knee pain had continued, I hadn’t run in weeks, and I was okay with that. 
Fast forward to now. In the last two weeks I’ve cried almost every day putting on my sock. I’ve said the words “I’m done with this” more times than I can count. I would kill for a night of sleep with no pain waking me up or with no pain the next morning. And as longingly as I’m looking at posts from everyone enjoying Boston Marathon weekend, those at the Star Wars Dark Side Half, and everyone in Chicago just enjoying the amazing weather, I just want to be able to live normally again. Running is literally on the bottom of my list. 
Today I found myself making a subconscious decision to put my broken foot out to catch my fall, which likely would have resulted in me hitting my head on my kitchen island. I immediately screamed and got myself to the couch because pain was so intense I thought I was going to pass out, and then cried thinking about what new damage I had done. Every time I do something that results in pain, all I can think of is extra weeks of no weight, which means simple things like cleaning my apartment or getting home from work become massive efforts. 
In the last 2 weeks I’ve gained:

– a new appreciation for polite cabbies who help me in and out with my little scooter, 

– a hatred for people that use the handicapped stall in the bathroom when ther are other stalls open, 

– an immense fear of losing my balance (remind me to up my core work)

– creativity in doing simple things, like keeping water bottles in every room in the house because open liquid containers are tough on the scooter and impossible on crutches, or figuring out  how to maneuver in and out of a bathtub without once putting my left foot down

– indescribable admiration for anyone who isn’t just missing out on a few races or hobbling around for a couple of months. The pain and frustration I’ve had in only 2 weeks doesn’t even begin to touch those who have lost limbs or have been paralyzed fighting for our country, from horrible diseases, or terrible accidents. 
Everyone I talk to says “oh you’ll be back to running in no time”, but I’m not sure that’s true. Partially because I have no idea when I’ll be able to put weight on it again (okay, some idea, doctor thinks by the end of May), but because I’m going to have to learn to walk again. My calf and Achilles are like steel rods rather than stretchy elastics because fully flexing my foot is too painful to do. Rehab is going to be painful, and my inability to really do cardio means I’ll be starting from scratch  on my endurance. Would I love to think I could run a fall race? Yes. But I’m more concerned with getting strong, healthy, and staying injury free. 
Have you ever broken anything? 

What would you find most frustrating about not being able to walk or stand?

Ideas to keep myself busy on weekends from my couch?

3 thoughts on “Perspectives change

  1. I stumbled across your blog this week as I’ve been laid up with a broken foot of my own. I share your misery. On March 30, I broke my foot (5th metatarsal fracture) and the last three weeks I have spent lots of time reflecting on how quickly one’s life can change and all the things we take for granted. I miss SO many things about walking and standing. I have three active children and I miss being able to stand and watch their sporting events. I miss taking my dogs for walks in this warmer spring weather. I miss being able to do laundry and clean my house. Fortunately, this is temporary and by mid-May I should be able to bear partial weight on my boot. And, hopefully, by the end of May I will be in two shoes once again. In the meantime, each week that I am unable to walk and that I am sidelined from my normal activities seems like an eternity. The process of getting bathed and dressed each morning is incredibly exhausting. And sleeping with this boot on makes restful sleep nearly impossible. I wish you a speedy recovery! I hope that we both are able to spend the summer wearing two shoes and resuming all the mundane and ordinary, yet wonderful, things in our lives that can be done on two feet.

  2. Hugs and sympathy. I’m really sorry to hear about how much physical and emotional pain you’re going through right now. Just because other people do have it worse, it doesn’t mean that what you’re going through isn’t difficult and painful.

    Does your gym have an arm cycle? That might be a way to get some cardio in if you feel up to it.

    • Thank you! I feel like a non-stop whiner, but at the same time, it just stinks.

      It does, and I’m starting back with my trainer on upper body this week. Up until the last couple of days I was too exhausted to try, but I’m ready 🙂

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