I had a really nice run 10 days ago, and I wish I had blogged about it. Everything just felt good–the movement of my body, the weather, my outlook on life–it was a good day.
A week ago I thought I might have shin splints. I wore a pair of older shoes for my recovery run, so when my right leg was aching the next day, I thought I had fucked up. So I rested a few days and tried a slow jog. Nope. Worse. So I rested a few more days and finally two days ago, my leg felt much better. I went grocery shopping, walked around a bit, stayed on my feet at home cooking and cleaning, then in the late afternoon my right leg ached horribly.
I knew what it was but I kept denying it. It can’t be. After 9 weeks of training for a marathon, after running much of last year, four times a week including two half marathons, this can’t be happening.
A god damned, shitty ass fucking stress fracture.
Although we’re waiting for the x-ray to confirm our suspicions, my doctor and I are quite certain that is what has happened. I suspected it, told him so, but also told him I was really hoping I just had shin splints. As soon as I took off my compression stockings, he said, “Oh dear.” He explained a lot, showed me various things on my leg, I bit back my sob until I just couldn’t.
We went over a plan, talked about other exercising I can do, what the x-ray might say and what we do if it’s not conclusive (get another one in a few weeks), and he sat with me as I cried and mourned my marathon dreams.
Does it mean I won’t run again? No. Does it mean my dream of running a marathon are off forever? I don’t know. Maybe. You know, tall women are not the best runners. Our bodies are not made to run this much. And 47-year-old tall women really aren’t made for it.
I’m incredibly sad.
Much of my identity in the past decade has been linked to being a runner. And I thought I was doing everything right. I followed my running plan religiously. I started lifting weights and doing ab work. I’ve tried to eat much better and had just contacted a nutritionist LAST WEEK and my appointment was supposed to be today. I had just ordered new running shoes for Pete’s sake!!! And, of course, they came today.
I have so many feelings swirling in my body and brain right now, that it’s hard to say everything I want to. I know part of my fear is that I’ll start binge eating or will obsessively count calories more than I do now because I don’t want that weight to creep up again. I haven’t lost much since my training began, but I’ve been so happy with the muscles in my legs and the small changes of the rest of my body. It’s made me feel strong and confident, and I don’t want that to end. Running is intrinsically tied to my mental health. Walking outside has also been very beneficial to my mental wellness, too, and I can’t even do that now.
I know this must sound like such a whiny bitch post and there are so many other horrendous problems out there that many of my friends are dealing with. And you know I love you and I’m here for you. That hasn’t changed. But right now, I need to bitch and moan and feel sorry for myself. So that’s what I’m doing.
Fortunately, I have incredible people in my life. The few I told today made me feel loved and cared for and heard. They also made me laugh and feel a smidge better. And if I didn’t mention this to you? Please don’t be offended. You have enough shit to deal with in your life and you didn’t need to hear about mine. (Of course, if you’re reading this then now you are hearing about it. You’re welcome.) 😉
So…what happens now?
Well, more than likely running and long walks are out for 3-6 months. Yup. Just when weather in Maine is finally fucking gorgeous, I won’t be able to enjoy it as much as I want to. So I’ll have to find other ways to do that. I have a manual elliptical (no electronics) that I plan to place on my porch. I might even start that garden I keep talking about but never create. I ordered a pricey (but not Pelaton pricey) stationary recumbent bike and hope to have it next week. I moved my nutritionist appointment to later this week. After I left a sobby message, the dietician suggested that maybe we can still work on my food issues as well as finding the right fuel for my future running. She’s not giving up on me yet, so I shouldn’t either, right?
Can I just bitch about one more thing? I know for some, 10,000 steps is a stupid goal to have for each day. And my kid likes to say I’m a slave to technology since I’m always trying to get my steps in according to what my fitness tracker says. And for 314 days straight, I had over 10,000 steps every.damn.day. And now I don’t. I had hoped to make it a full year, and I came fucking close. But I need to let that go, too, right?