I've been doing this stupid thing where I blow off running all week and then try to run a super long distance on Saturdays. It's when I have time! It's when my friends are training! So last Saturday I went out on a 15 miler with my training group and intended to run 10 miles. I knew I was behind in my mileage but I figured I could get something under my belt. I ran 11 miles and felt pretty great, actually. I was tired the rest of the day but I went for a pedicure and shopping with my mom and sister who were visiting, walked all over in my flip flops like an idiot.
But my toes looked pretty!
And then Sunday came and I was walking through my bedroom barefoot - I don't even remember what I was doing - and stepped on the outside of my foot funny. I felt a pop. And then? Ouch. Wait ... OW. Something was not right. But as a runner I've become accustomed to aches and pains. I did a small battle with a bit of plantar fasciitis a few weeks ago and just wore supportive shoes and took some time off around the time my kids were sick and it went away. So I put on shoes and took an ibuprofen and iced it a little and tried to ignore it.
Except it didn't get better. It kept getting worse. And by Thursday I was hobbling around my house in tears clutching a teething baby and knew that I needed to go to urgent care for an X-ray ... the first of my life outside a dentist's office! Long story short, my foot is not broken. For now I'm not supposed to run or even stand for prolonged periods (HA, HA THREE KIDS) and I will be following up with my podiatrist this week.
Last night I sat across the dinner table from my husband and thanked him for not saying, "I told you so." He said, "I would never say that!" (he wouldn't. He's highly intelligent). But he has been warning me for months that if I half-stepped my training I would end up getting injured. And well. Here we are. John Huddle? YOU WERE RIGHT. Feel free to refer to this website if you ever need to prove that you were accused of being right once.
All of this has inspired a pretty harsh come-to-Jesus. It's time for me to get my butt in gear if I have any hope of even running a half marathon in March. The first order of business is to lose some of the extra 20 pounds I'm still up after having this baby. The quickest and most effective way I know how to do that is Weight Watchers (and honestly, I like that they factor in breastfeeding. Because I NEED THOSE POINTS). And then we will see what the podiatrist has to say and then I will do my training correctly. Even if my teething 6-month-old doesn't sleep and I have to get up in the morning when it's cold and dark to get a 3 mile run in. GAH.
The holidays just did me in this year, honestly. All the school activities, the long campaign of sickness, the constant cleaning up of the house and cooking ... it was hard this year. Juicy hurt himself and we spent the better part of a week plus a few hundred dollars trying to figure out what was wrong with him (he is fine). I didn't take care of myself. I lost one of my diamond earrings - my first wedding anniversary present - out of sheer exhaustion (I noticed the back had fallen off and instead of taking my earring out and putting it somewhere safe I just absentmindedly stuck it back in my ear and went to bed. FACEPALM). Needless to say, taking care of myself just takes a back seat. It's no wonder that people make New Year's resolutions. You FINALLY get to pack up the tree and decorations and put your house to rights, the kids go back to school, and you can (hopefully) think straight again.