So, after three doctor visits and one PT visit, I know I have a severe tear of my hamstring, maybe up to 50%. I was astounded at the bruising, I've never seen anything like that on my body before. Finally, as of yesterday and ten days out from the dreaded fall, I am moving around a bit better and not in so much pain.
Very nice pattern and color scheme. If this were a painting I would call it, "Rocky Mountain Contusion"
I have to tell you - I had prided myself on remaining injuring free for so long with smart training and listening to my body. Then to have this sudden injury that felt very "stupid" and unnecessary was a tough pill to swallow. It took me ten days, lots of wine and Netflix pity parties and many naps to finally surrender to what is going on and to accept I won't run for awhile. One of my favorite races, the Bolder Boulder 10k, is Monday, so of course I'll miss that (but I will get a very expensive t-shirt!). Also, my 50k is out of the question. After many months of training, that's tough, but it is what it is (a phrase I'm not so fond of - sounds dumb - of course it is what it is. What the fuck else would it be??)
I've had a lot of time to think over the past week and a half about why running is so important to me and why it is so hard to fill that void. Why does no other hobby do the trick? Who am I without running?
The thing is - many places of my life feel a bit in flux right now. I am tiring of my job and wondering what my "second act" will be as I get older. My kids need me much less and at this time next year, Ken and I will be empty-nesters. Although in good health, my parents are getting older and are both almost 80.
In all of the uncertainties and stressors of every day life, running is my crutch. It represents strength, perseverance, consistency, predictability, joy, accomplishment. It's my rock and I am lost without it. I don't think knitting, prostituting or playing ping pong would have the same effect.
So, what now?
Well, PT yesterday made me feel like I was doing something. I had dry needling and learned how to tape my leg with the sport's medicine form of duct tape (leuko tape). I can do some very light stretching, strengthening. It's not a lot, but it's something.
My goal now is to be healthy enough to run (slowly) the Ragnar Northwest Passage Relay in mid-July. That gives me about 8 weeks. Our team signed up months ago and if I can do it, I will do it.
In all of the supportive comments I've gotten, one in particular sticks out as not so supportive. I know there are good intentions behind this, but I hate the phrase, "It could be worse!"
Of course it could always be worse. I could have torn both hamstrings while getting robbed and struck by lightening. It can always also be better. "It could be worse" dismissive and minimizing. Why not just stay, "Sorry, that sucks" and move on?
Believe me I realize that my injury is very minor in the scope of things, but it is MY injury and it alters MY life and I'm allowed to have a response to that. No, I'm not going to sit around crying about it for the next few months, but just because it could be worse - does that mean I can't respond with anger, sadness and frustration?
Well, there you go. That's my update/vent. On the bright side, Heidi and I have had amazing experiences at the hospital (hospice) this week and last. The healing effect that dogs have on people is phenomenal. She is such a gift.
How do you fill the running void when you're injured?
Best/worst comments you've gotten when you're going through a hard time?
Do you volunteer anywhere? If so, where?
SUAR
