So the ankle is fractured, but the fracture is small enough that because I can walk around, there’s no reason to put me in a boot or anything. I’m starting to bike and swim again this week and running will come when I am 100%.
We went around the room this morning, before everyone left, to ask what everyone’s new year’s resolutions were. As open as I often am and am willing to be, telling people how I want to change my life and what my goals are seems the most personal thing I can do. So I don’t. And I won’t. But what I really want, for everyone, is for people to find Happiness. Maybe it comes from being with someone else, doing something you love, some inner peace. Whatever it is, I hope in 2013 you find it.
Last year around this time, I got the hives. This year, I fractured my ankle. I shudder to think what is in store for me next year…
I once thought I sprained my ankle, and it turned out I had three fractures. So I think this is a sprain, but let’s get an X-ray just in case — Doctor
After much kvetching and waffling about whether I should go see my doctor about my ankle, I bit the bullet and scheduled an appointment with my PCP. Went in, got weighed (didn’t want to take my shoes off because it hurts, but even so, holy shit diet time), and then waited to see him. He came in, looked at my ankle, pressed on it (ow), and then sent me on to get an X-ray.
Now, I’m not a doctor so you should wait to hear from them, but there’s definitely something funky going on in your ankle — X-ray Tech
Never good to hear that from an X-ray tech. She’s probably seen 1000s of X-rays, and even if she’s not an MD, probably knows what a bad ankle is when she sees one. We had a good laugh as she looked at my foot and the bruises on it, and then asked if I was sure the right ankle was the one that was hurt.
The next morning, I got a call from my doctor. Yes, it is fractured. It is a small fracture on the lateral aspect (whatever that means). I just need an air splint.
30.6+ year streak of not breaking a bone? Broken.
So what now?
The ankle is currently in one of those air splints. I’ve got an orthopedist appointment tomorrow. My guess is they’ll want to do some more scans (of one kind or another) to make sure I didn’t tear anything as well (I heard two distinct pops when I went down). I’ll also find out from the ortho when I can start training again. Steve is being really good about telling me to rest. My friends have been really good at reassuring me that I’ll get back to things better than I was before. Medical friends (Jen, Rehan, Ally, Ashley) have been looking out for my best interests. Bartender friends have been amazing (gin, honey, simple syrup, orange zest… holy shit). My family especially.
It would be very easy for me to say that this is a fitting end to 2012. But that’s not true. I can’t take for granted all of the good and great things that happened in 2012 just because some not so good things happened. These things, good and bad, are shaping me for the better/stronger.
It’s one of the streaks I was really proud about. Another was never using a port-a-potty. I think I made it something like 27 years. Pretty much until I started racing. ↩
Spent today with my nephews. They are sweet and adorable and it makes the tragedy of Newtown all the more unbearable to know that so many sweet and adorable were taken. As I drove back to Boston, I turned on NPR, only to catch the memorial service. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t brought to tears in the car. It makes all of this seem so tiny and unimportant.
The Lake Sunapee Turkey Trot 5K was Thanksgiving morning. Drove up to NH Wednesday night, played skeeball with my 94 year old grandmother, and had quite a bit to drink. Woke up Thursday morning a bit dehydrated to quite cold temperatures. Bru, Kerry and I headed over to Sunapee, picked up our numbers, and waited in the car (hooray HEAT!) until 10 minutes before the start. The course profile is everything but flat. Within the first mile, there is a lung busting climb of 200-240 feet over ~.5 miles. The cold air burned my airway and the dehydration caused my ears to start popping. By the 3rd mile, I was reading to go home: I was tasting the blood of a too-extreme effort in my mouth. And I gave up. It would end up being my slowest 5K in years (perhaps ever?) at 20:22. Not a great day, but a good lesson. Respect the body, respect the race course. The bad
The Yulefest 5K was far better weather than the previous year. My training had been going a lot better than last year, and things seemed to be going my way. Lost track of time the morning of the race and ended up stressing out about whether I would make it to the race on time. But I ended up being there with plenty of time, eating breakfast, meeting teammates and goofing off before the start. However, I was (again) a bit dehydrated, and like Sunapee, I didn’t have my Garmin with me. Was chasing after the ginger minion from the get go, but I don’t have the top end speed that he does. Once we hit the slight hills on the way back in, I knew I was out of it. My ears started popping and I stopped to get my body under control twice. As it was, I shouldn’t have as I was only 3 seconds off of my PR. Lesson kind of learned — don’t stop unless the #pOOPS are imminent. The ugly
That’s the #mangledankle 72+ hours after I… I don’t know exactly what happened. I was playing soccer, went to turn, and was on the ground after hearing two pops. I figured it was just a sprain, but 72 hours of hideous bruising worries me that it is something worse. M’er-f’er. Stupid injury. I know why I was playing, but it seems so stupid.
I sat on the sidelines as RaceMenu teammates PRed all over the place at Miss Santa. There’s no doubt in my mind I would have too (and then this would have been The Good, the Bad and the Ugly). But instead, I just hobbled around and watched them.
No diagnosis yet, but going to the doctor tomorrow. Hopefully it’s only a terrible sprain and I’m not running for a month; I’m prepared for much worse. Just say hello to the ground
Things are happening fast and furiously here. Too fast? Too furiously? Nah. But with work and life and everything, and a dearth of significant racing going on, there’s not much to blog about. But here’s something anyhow.
We all have something about racing and training that scares the chickens (sic) out of us. For some people it’s the fear of underperformance while racing. For others, it’s a specific sport. For me? The trainer. Specifically, workouts where I know failure is a possible outcome. And I’m not quite sure how to get around that. I know it’s mental, because most of the workouts I’ve been able to get through (and if it’s a workout on the road, I definitely get through it). So here I am, being honest. I am afraid of failing. And getting around that can be extremely difficult. But if getting mentally tougher is part of the path to being a better athlete, then it’s something I need to get past.
Way back when I was a wee swimmer (like back when swimmers were called minnows and tadpoles… so probably when I was 5 or 7), we had to write down our goals. This was right around the time of the Be All That You Can Be Army recruiting campaign. And I was impressionable. So that’s what I wrote down for one of my goals. Be all that I can be. The coaches got a kick out of it. My parents got a kick out of it. Probably in an awww how cute way, but to me I thought they were laughing at me. But I think, as open and honest about myself as I claim to be, I’ve been reluctant to talk about my goals (I suppose aside from time goals). And not because I am worried I will be laughed at for them, but because I don’t think I’ve taken the time to really sit down and think them through, to map out what I really want out of life and training and everything. Perhaps next time I’m at the lake. And if I don’t like what I think of, I can always stoke the fire.
And here is a cover of a SCUBA diver’s favorite band’s most famous song.