The Stages of Injury (AKA Panties Behind the Furnace)

Today was symbolic. I returned my crutches.

I didn’t mean to keep them for so long, but there was a part of me that kept fearing I would re-injure myself and need them again. I am now confident I will not need them again, at least not for this injury. If I fall out of the ceiling of my Southwest flight to Boston next week, I might need them for that.

I noticed on the form I filled out at the grocery store when I “rented” the crutches (yes, you can “rent” crutches then go buy milk all in one fell swoop) that I indicated I would have them for ten days. Upon their return, I had had them for 177 days. So I was a little off. Truth be told, I only really used them for 45 days or so. But I kept them as insurance. As a fall back if the unthinkable happened.

I’m about to get a little deep, so hang on for the ride:

When we get injured it happens to our physical bodies, but it’s really our mind that takes the beating. The stages of injury tend to follow the stages of grief, which makes sense considering that being injured represents the loss of being able to function how you want/need/have to.*

1. Denial – Are you f*cking kidding me? My marathon is in {insert number} weeks and I’ve trained my ass off. There is no way I’m not running this thing, even if I have to crawl. It’s just a pain in my hip. I’m sure I just pulled a muscle dancing on the pole. Or maybe this pain is a figment of my imagination, part of tapering madness. I’m sure I’m fine.

2. Anger – Are you f*cking kidding me? This still hurts, might be worse. Why me? I didn't do anything wrong. Everyone else can run and not get injured. Hell, Dean freaking Karnazes is running across the United States and he never gets injured. This sucks. I don’t deserve this. I pay my taxes, I follow a training plan. I bought the stinking $100 shoes that they told me to buy at that damn store.

3. Bargaining – You are not f*cking kidding me. I’m hurt. I get it. But, I swear if I am healed enough by marathon day to at least complete the race I will never {insert vice: cuss, drink, over train,  do meth, run with scissors, yell at my kids, hide my dirty panties behind the furnace, lick a knife} again. Once I complete this race, I will rest for a really long time and go to the doctor. I swear. Just let me run this race.

4. Depression – (warning: here’s where it gets really ugly). I’m f*cked. I’m out of the race. Hell, I might never run again. I hate swimming and biking and most of all running in the water. I want to run. I only like running and I am nothing without running. I will get fat. I will get lazy. I will lose all of my fitness. Why bother getting out of bed?

5. Acceptance – I can’t race. I can’t even run right now. But, it’s going to be okay. I am still an athlete, I am still a runner, I am just recovering. I will be back. Stronger than ever. Even though I can’t run, there are other things I can do to maintain my fitness. Even though I can’t run, I am still worthy. There is more to me than being a runner.

We all move through these stages at different rates. I wasn’t allowed to be in the denial stage very long because my pain was too intense and an MRI showed the fracture immediately. I also moved through anger and bargaining pretty quickly because the injury was so black and white. I was pissed as all get out, but that just made me more tired. And there was no bargaining to be done. There would be no race, no running.  For quite a few months.

I got stuck in depression for awhile. I’d have good days and bad days. I don’t think I really reached the point of acceptance for about eight weeks. And even then, I ping- ponged between depression and acceptance quite a bit. My acceptance wasn’t just based on knowing I would get better. It was based on knowing I would be okay even if I didn’t.

A theme of this blog is acceptance – not resisting what is. A theme of this blog is also pooping in bushes. I like variety.

One of my most very favorite things about life is that it is constantly changing. If you don’t like it, it will be different soon. If you are flying high, you might crash next week. The only thing you can count on is that things are temporary.

Now go back up and look at that muscle in my arm. There ARE upsides to crutches. And I’m wearing a mask because we are paintballing. Duh!

And, yes, I did hide my panties behind the furnace when I was five (and don’t pretend you didn’t),

SUAR

*For those who want to blast me for even comparing injury to loss – spare me. I know an injury is not the end of the world, and certainly cannot be compared to the loss of a loved one or a serious, life threatening illness. I get that.

The Years Are Short

Every once in awhile I watch this video as a reminder that today is THE day (Kleenex is optional). It’s all you’ve got. “They days are long, but the years are short, ” So says Gretchen Rubin creator of the video and author of “The Happiness Project.” 

My interpretation: Don’t miss all of the blessings that are right in front of your face because you are annoyed by the clogged toilet and/or crutches and are distracted by the ten million things you think you have to do. Stop for a second. Take it all in. Give thanks.

And then make your dad ride the cripple cart at Costco because if you have to do it, he should too.

See the lady in the way back in the red shirt? That is my mom. Moments before this picture was taken, she rushed off saying, “I don’t want any part of this.” My whole life she has hated getting her picture taken. I obviously did not get that gene. Neither did my dad.

At 43 years old, it’s fun to go to Costco with your mom and dad because you are injured and can’t go alone. Good thing I like my parents as much as I do because we’ve had a lot of quality time together lately. Nobody takes care of you like your mom and dad. They saw me cross the finish line when I BQ’d and they’ve helped pick up the pieces when I’m down.

Giving thanks and remembering the years are short,

SUAR

It’s Official

My qualifying time of 3:42 has been verified and my name has been added to the formal entry list! (Just cause you registered doesn’t mean you’re in. You’re not in ‘til you’re IN).

As I sit here not being able to walk it is hard to imagine running this race in 176 days.

This entry verification is what I need to stay focused and optimistic. To get to the bottom of this injury and to heal into a faster, stronger and smarter runner.

Timeline

1. Tonight: Drink beer and eat wings (it is Saturday night after all).
2. Next 2-3 weeks: Crutches. No weight on left leg at all. Possible swimming with a buoy. Oprah. Drive thrus. Ass growth. Unsolicited bouts of crying.
3. Mid November: Introduce water running, swimming, walking, maybe cycling.
4. January 1st: Walk/running.
5. January 15: Start marathon training. By far my shortest training cycle (12 weeks), but it’s what I can do.

This is my wish list timeline. I could have setbacks. I could not heal swiftly. My doc seems to think I can run Boston and I’m going with that until further notice. I need to believe.

It’s kind of like a birth plan when you have a baby. You hope to high hell you don’t crap the delivery table or spew profanities at your husband or forget to breathe or wait too long to get the epidural or take drugs at all if you don’t want to. But on the day itself you have to be willing to surrender to reality for the health of you child, whatever that is. Best advice my doc ever gave me was to have a plan, but realize it might not go just so. Because much to my chagrin I did crap and I did spew and I did do drugs.

About running the marathon: “Believe and act as if it were impossible to fail.” – Charles Kettering

About the crutches and injury: “I never thought it was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows.” – Bart Simpson

Blowing and sucking,

SUAR

Slow Dancing with Girls

I am the queen of odd jobs: blackjack dealer, 7-11 cashier, French language translator, dishwasher in the college dining hall, caterer (that was so short lived I barely remember it except for a few failed cakes). If you want to sound nice, you can call me well rounded or a Jacquelyn of all Trades. If you don’t want to be nice, call me non-committal and indecisive. 

I’ll be honest in stating I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up (since elite running is out). After getting my MSW 15 years ago I started doing adoption/foster care work for social services, and that’s where I sit today. People always say, if you could do anything what would be your dream?  ‘Cause if you know that, then you will magically know where to direct your desires and energy and it will all come together.

I want to be on Dancing with the Stars (DWTS). I want someone to teach me how to dance for real, not just that white woman hip shifting I do at weddings. I want to have a fake tan that’s even and wear those skimpy dresses. I want to dance the tango with someone hunky, even if they get an erection. That’s what I want.

Speaking of erections, when middle school girls say they have it so much harder than boys, what with periods and breasts and mood swings, I always want to shake them and say, “But what about those unwanted hard-ons that boys have when they’re slow dancing with girls?!!” That’s got to suck. Does it, boys? (Don’t even get me started on wet dreams).

Probably DWTS is not in my near future. Maybe they will have a blogger edition and I will get picked. Along with Running Man Wannabe and one of those really fit girls with a food blog. What a great mix we would make. I will, of course, have to sign a legal contract promising I will not crap on the dance floor or in a judge’s lap. I for sure will do a better job than the ‘Hoff.

What do YOU want to be when you grow up?

This weekend I am entering the realm of another “job not related to my field.” I was asked by SkirtSports, inventors of the running skirt and makers of all types of sassy and practical running, cycling and triathlon wear, to represent them at an open house. I’ll be going to Genessee Mountain Fitness (in the foothills west of Denver) to sell/show clothing and talk about the mission of the company. I will get paid in clothing. Specifically, this clothing (don’t worry, no weight on the left leg/bad hip. Crutches are nearby):       

I really dig these skirts with the capri tights underneath (all one piece).

Being paid in clothes is good. That just takes out the middle man step of getting paid in money then going and spending it on clothes. This stuff is not cheap.

I also got this – the marathon girl ultra skirt:

Wait, not ready yet:

  

That’s better:

I think this outfit will go very well with crutches. I will assure everyone that the clothing did not cause me to get the crutches. I did that all on my own.

I will wear this clothing all day, everyday, even though I can’t run. I will wear it so that I can look like a runner even if I can’t be one right now. I will wear it until it has pit stains and dandruff and mustard marks. I will do this in honor of running.

It’s time for happy hour,

SUAR

I’ve Been a Bad Girl

Today’s wisdom:

Sam (to sister): Don’t pick your nose and then use my laptop.

That’s fair. I would go so far as to say, don’t pick your nose and touch or use anything. In fact, don’t pick your nose at all. One time (at band camp) when I was in high school I checked out Catcher in the Rye from the library. My impression of that book will forever be scarred by the fact that almost every page with slathered with someone’s dry boogers. Really? You’re going to wipe your boogers all over a book, a book that’s not even yours?

Sam is a wise one. He gets it from his mother. Not long ago we had this conversation.

Sam: Mom, guess what?

Me: What?

Sam: There are some girls in my class who have bigger boobs than you do.

Great, kick me when I’m down. Speaking of down…

We all have ways of coping when we life isn’t going how we’d hoped it would. One of my methods of not losing my mind is writing and connecting with people. Another way is to bake chocolate/butterscotch chip cookies the size of my head and drink wine, but that’s another story.  While I don’t want this blog to become a place of whining and negativity, there might be some of that in the weeks/months to come. The fact is that while this is a running blog, per se, I like to think it is also a forum for growth, humor, connectedness and exploration. It is also about overcoming adversity and moving forward.

That said, I’ve been a bad girl. A week ago I was given crutches and told to be use them for the next 7-10 days. I did that, mostly. But, around the house I cheated. I used one crutch because it was easier to carry my coffee, to put dinner in the oven, to open doors. Should I be surprised that I’ve gotten worse and not better? I now have increased pain in my hip. I cannot bear weight at all. I sit on my ass to put on my underwear. I sit in the shower. I am back to full on crutches 24/7 (I like to bring them into my bed).

I am worried about this injury. The hip is a tough place to heal, mostly due to lack of blood flow to the area. My doc says the hip is the worst place to get a stress fracture. It takes many people months before they can begin even some light running. Cross training is difficult because biking and elliptical put too much strain on the hip. With Boston on the horizon and less than six months away, I am praying for a swift and healthy recovery.

There is reason to be optimistic. People recover from hip stress fractures all the time and go on to do amazing things. Frayed Laces just completed the Ironman at Kona. Jenn at Running Sane (who has been a great support to me) incurred a hip stress fracture back in May and is now back to running 40 miles a week pain free. Elite runner Shannon Rowbury experienced a hip fracture in March 2007 and went on to the USATF Olympic Trials in 2008. So, it can be done.

And look, I can still do a timer shot, so all is not lost for the blog. My hair, on the other hand, is in trouble. Just don’t have the patience for stylin’ these days:

Problem is patience. While I’m all about optimism, I am also a realist. I will get better. I will run far again. Question is - will it happen in time for Boston? Next question is - how do I maintain sanity in the mean time? In all likelihood, I will not run again until January. I may not be able to swim or do much of anything else for another 6-8 weeks.

One place to find sanity: Zen and the Art of Running; The Path of Making Peace with your Pace. This book was suggested to me by another injured reader, David (he has a stress fracture of the osteitis pubis. He assures me it’s not an STD). 

If you haven't read this book, you should.  It’s about aligning your body with your mind to be the best runner you can be.  There is a chapter on injury that is so wise it’s ridiculous. It puts me a good mind space with talk of erasing self pity, controlling concerns about loss of fitness and handling withdrawal pains. Even if right now I can't be a runner I can be something else. Even if I can’t find joy in running I can find joy in something else. Half the battle is giving up the attachment.

An attachment to the idea that your efforts matter only if they can produce something permanent is guaranteed to cause you anguish.

If you run and haven’t been injured before (small percentage of us), you might not get any of this. You might think, just shut up and move on. Trust me, it’s not that easy.

Trying not to pick my nose,

SUAR

My New Friend (Who Needs Enemies?)

Warning: Drama unfolding

Sigh.

We have been separated for about two weeks, running and me. I ache for it everyday. I see it all around me, yet it can’t be a part of me. Not now. I miss its comforting pace while taking me down a tree-lined road on a long run. I yearn for its drill sergeant voice that orders me to do one more Yasso even though I might throw up or crap my pants. I crave the words of wisdom and inspiration that light up my brain when we spend the morning on a trail by a lake looking at the mountains. I miss sharing the frosty winter mornings together when all is calm and barely light.

 Taken from my back deck this morning. Doesn’t suck to live in CO.

I know there are other friends like biking and swimming and yoga. They are good support systems too. They want me to be strong, yet they accept that I only spend time with them so I can go back to my first love - running.

You are right. It is not the end of the world to not be able to run. There are worse things. Much worse things. Children get hurt. Parents pass away. Cancer happens. The list goes on.

The thing about running, though, is it lessens the blow of all the really bad stuff. It accentuates the good.  It takes a mundane day and gives it purpose and insight. It provides a means of coping with the ups and downs of life. It is constant. It is always there. Well, almost always.

I know it will be back. We still have a lot to do together.

Upon its return we will be tentative and careful with one another. Eventually, we will test our relationship as we start training. We might have some ups and downs as we try to figure out how to be together in a new and healthy way that does not involve someone getting hurt. I will set boundaries and that will be painful at times. Most likely we will need to take things slow and understand when to back off.

At the end of the day running has not let me down. It has given me the gift of OMFOTG (One More F*cking Opportunity To Grow). And grow I will.

But, for now my new friend is crutch. He sucks the big one (and makes me look like an old, tired hag).

Trying to be patient,

SUAR