*#@%^!

I have what I like to call...short woman complex. I'm pretty sure if I was roughly 3 inches taller I wouldn't have this problem. Basically this complex makes me incredibly stupid where my body is concerned. I like to push myself to my limits and love challenges both physically and mentally and hate to appear weak...which is incredibly difficult when you're 5'0 so I tend to overcompensate. Unfortunately I learn things the hard way. Lesson learned this weekend...I seriously need to LISTEN to my body. Pain for me does not mean STOP...it means "Suck it up and push through it". Well this is stupid.

 

I have been having off and on pain in my foot that fades after I'm done running, but recently it has been lingering even after the runs were completed. Bad idea #1 was assuming I could just go out and do 6 miles on Saturday and if I took it really slow I'd be fine. Well I ended up walking 3 of the completed 5.4 miles. That was a tad slower than I had meant but I had a race on Sunday and thought I didn't want to overdo it and my foot was seriously aching despite popping some aspirin.

 

This race was supposed to be MY race, the one where I finally pushed passed my mental and physical barriers and I had a goal time in mind. All the speed work I'd been doing was going to prove itself. And it was my first race that my husband actually got to witness...I was stoked! Well this was bad idea #2. Remember my foot pain. Yeah it hurt, did I care...Hell No! Race starts and I'm off. I'm pushing at a nice pace and finish mile 1 in a little more than 8 minutes...fantastic! However my foot was really throbbing and I'm questioning if I can make it. Well at roughly 1.25 miles I gave up the fight and I believe the words "Shit, fuck me" escaped my lips. I was hurting. The pain was intense and sharp and even trying to jog took my breath away. Remember how it took me a little more than 8 minutes to get to mile one. Well it took me more than a 25 minutes to get to mile two. It took everything I had to grit my teeth and keep limping. As the people passed me I fought tears of frustration and pain. No way was I going to break down in front of strangers...

 

Mile 2...there were some volunteers handing out water. I promptly asked  one of them if I could get a ride back to the start / finish. I was done. The man could have been a seriel killer and I was pretty sure I'd have climbed into his truck anyways. It was my first DNF (did not finish). I was heartbroken, but mostly I was in pain. I got back to find my hubby worried as the clock said 45 minutes and I was supposed to have crossed over 17 minutes ago.  I told him I had dropped out. He escorted me back to my Jeep and I climbed into the passenger side....the PASSENGER side!?! My husband stared at me in stunned silence then said, OMG how much pain are you in? I just looked at him and said, I'd like to go to Urgent Care now.

 

You see...No one, I repeat NO ONE, drives my Jeep but me. It's a rule I had never intended to break, EVER. She's my baby, my dream car and I have a very unhealthy attachment to her. My sister asked and though I felt bad for telling her NO, I just couldn't. But on Sunday I simply had no more fight left in me and I relinquished my reins of control over to my husband. I just didn't care. It's hard for me to describe how much pain it takes for me to reach this point.

 

Luckily, it's not broken. The x-rays looked good. But the doctor felt it was a stress fracture, which doesn't show up in an x-ray right away until it begins to heal. So it's crutches for me for a week until I can see my regular physician (I have an appointment next Tuesday) for follow up x-rays. I'm hoping that by next week I'll see a vast improvement. Right now, I can't put any weight on my right foot. So it looks like I'll be swimming hard core the next few weeks. Hmmm....maybe I should consider a triathlon! :)