Last night, I was helping Ann move her bedroom furniture into a more "feng shui" layout. We hoisted the mattress, dragged around the bedframe, scooted her dresser from one side of the room to the other, and in the end, the room seemed cheerier and more open.
More "feng" and less "shui".
I think that's the literal translation.
So I exited her bedroom, rounded the corner and BLAM!, mashed my next-to-pinkie-toe on my right foot. To the point where I tumbled 8 feet into her kitchen, curled up in a ball, and begged God to end it all.
It hurt.
I iced. I moaned and bitched. The toe swelled up. For a change of pace, I bitched and THEN moaned. For about 2 hours, all I could do was sit and berate myself for not wearing shoes while moving furniture 6 days out from a 100 miler. What the hell was I thinking?!? As the mantra goes: Take NO NEW CHANCES on race week. Normally, I would have put on my shoes to avoid damage, but last night, my brain was somewhere else. I wonder where, eh?
I awoke to a bruised toe that was painful to put any pressure on. Luckily, I'd scheduled a PT appointment for this morning last week, for some last-minute tuning up, so I figured I'd see what she thought and go from there.
"It is what it is."
Although I wasn't quite so level-headed at the time.
I hobbled in and showed her my swollen piggy (I think he's the one that "gets no roast beef", if my memory serves me). She did some ultrasound on it and some pressure tests and determined that it's not broken: Only a sprain/strain. She informed me that today is the worst of it, and by Wednesday I should turn a MAJOR corner. She taped me up, hugged me a well-wish (whose PT does that, huh? She's amazing), and sent me limping out the door.
Scott Jurek, 5 days before crushing the course record at the Hardrock 100, massively sprained his ankle playing soccer with a group of kids. He later brought up the point, "We can't just give up our lives for these races," and it's true.
So now (as I just accidentally stubbed my wrapped toe on a chair leg), I'll rest, relax, and heal, and look at this injury as another "story point" on my way to 100.
It's just another challenge. And life's all about how you see it.
About this guy...
- rustyboy
- Lanky. Good guy. Likes running, ukulele, the ocean, and French fries. I love running ultra-marathons, but am also a certified massage therapist, running coach, writer, and other such things. Come: Enjoy the rustyboy experience.
6 comments:
If I were near your home right now I would broadcast that little ticker thing on the side of your blog onto your wall.
This. Is. Not. A. Taper. Really. I read it in the New Competitive Runner's Handbook, which has an amazing 80s cover shot. Except they use the example of repaneling your living room. Which reminds me of the paneling in your old bedroom.
Now would not be the time to repanel that shit, you see.
For a few glorious hours, though, I compiled my list of Things to Do By Myself in San Diego Since I Am Not Crewing the Race. I came up with the following: Do not go to Sea World.
Clearly an exhaustive research project.
Please don't sprain a hamstring elevating your foot.
No good deed is left unpunished.
Hope your toe heels quickly ... or at least before you have to bang out a 100 miler.
Good luck.
I'm nervous about this race, and I'm not even in it. I checked the website, and it's full. Damn! Too late again.
Yeah, you're tapering alright, when indoor furniture is just waiting to screw with your legs and feet. Happens all the time, so maybe it's somehow comforting to know you're right on track with a mini-injury that you won't even remember at, say, mile 36 and beyond...
Just think like Renee with the hot weather... now you have an out... a great excuse... this means all the pressure is gone and you can go kick some serious ass!!! Can't wait to read up on how you do!!
Good Luck - got get 'em!!!
Always seems to happen somehow doesn't it. Damn life. I'm sure you'll be fine, plus you'll have a better story to tell after your 100 miler is conquered. :)
I thought of you last night while watching "Bionic Woman." (really) She busted her bionic toe. A techie fixed it. But it cost about a million dollars, and she has to work for a shadowy branch of the US government. You're probably better off.
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