Pity party of one, your table is now available. This was supposed to be peak week. A week for giving it my all, going further than ever before, and coasting into my glorious taper exhausted but satisfied. Sadly, my body had other ideas. Specifically, my ankle.
Tuesday after my run I felt a weird sensation behind the outside bony bit of my ankle. It hurt to walk, but stretching made it better, as did a hot shower. I thought I was all good. On Wednesday the pain came back, and I noticed that when I first got up from being seated, I felt fine. As soon as I walked a few hundred steps, the pain would come back. Sometimes it would hurt all the way up my calf, towards the back side of my knee. Other times it would spread across the top of my foot. Always it would stiffen up, so that bending my foot or ankle was painful. Through all this I was able to work out. Swimming felt fine, cycling felt fine, and even running didn’t hurt. I elevated my foot when home at night, and iced it on Thursday evening just to be safe. It still only bothered me when walking, so I figured overall that I was okay.
Then on Friday I started to feel the pain during my kick sets in the pool. What? Swimming is the non-impact one…why is this happening? I got out of the pool and couldn’t flex my ankle. I hobbled into the shower and scrubbed my hair furiously, as though having a squeaky clean scalp was somehow going to fix things. R.I.C.E. had been on my mind already, so there was a compression bandage in my gym bag. I got dressed and wrapped my ankle, then headed out to the car. To my surprise, there was no pain…until there was. Really? Come on! Anger was giving way to panic.
A few texts with J, tweets with friends, and an all-out plea for soothing words from my online mentor group, and my name was on the list for the pity party. The office version of a pity party, in case anyone is wondering, is to use post office crates stacked under the desk to create a platform for me to elevate my leg on. Also pepperoni pizza combos, starburst, juice, and chocolate. My delightful packed lunch of polenta with spring veggies sat neglected in the fridge, and my banana mocked me. “You don’t need to eat me,” it seemed to say. “You aren’t running after work, and only runners deserve bananas.”
So there we have it. The hay is in the barn, as they say. The pity party has been relocated to my living room. It would have been nice to get another 3 miler in. It would have been really nice to get another long bike, short run, nutrition practice day in. But if R.I.C.E. is the prescription, I need to follow it. Rest I shall. My foot is elevated, I’m full of anti-inflammatories, and the tea is steeping. Hopefully 48 hours from now I’ll be feeling better. And if not, well then I’ll head to the doctor and see what can be done. In the meantime, perhaps there is no better time than the present to work on visualization and mental training.