I’m in Denver for business for part of this week. There’s snow. It’s pretty. ‘Nuff said.
No complaints about Denver – the people are great and we’re in a swanky-ish hotel. I’m making healthy eating choices and the gym here rocks. But I just read SUAR’s post about her daughter and now I’m missing my kiddos even more than normal. We spoke on the phone tonight but that’s never really a good substitute for a hug & a kiss goodnight. I miss the little turkeys, even if I do enjoy sleeping in a bed without Nicholas’ foot in my face or my abdomen.
So I’ve been thinking it probably seems weird that my blog is still titled See Judi Run when I had such a hiatus from the sport. Here’s the scoop on why: March 29 (yes I know the date because it was our 7th wedding anniversary and we were hosting a cookout), I returned from a run behind our house on the trail by the bayou. My wonderful trusty yellow lab, Emma, was with me and she got excited and took off — literally off the trail — and instead of dropping the leash I thought it would be fun to sprint the last few hundred feet. We were *that* close to home. Only I didn’t make it because my left foot went into a 6″ deep hole and my body kept moving with the 90lb lab. yeah, ouch.
I sent the kids to find Joel while I sat there looking at my rapidly swelling foot. Eventually it was discovered he was out inviting people over to the cookout (it was impromptu) so I hobbled back home. Then I proceeded to spend 6 hours on my feet cooking and hosting and generally hanging out with friends who wanted to help us celebrate not killing or divorcing each other.
It was a good time. It wasn’t good for my foot.
The very next day I took the CLP exam, which required parking 6 blocks from the university building and hopping on one foot since the unsightly purple swollen foot that wouldn’t fit into any shoe but a Croc wasn’t enough to convince the security gal to let me park in one of the 10 unoccupied handicapped spots available. No biggie.
Next day I went to doc’s and after x-ray after x-ray and mri (I think?) it was determined I had torn ligaments. I was told I couldn’t run for 6 mths. Depression set in and I ATE.
As it turned out, that 6 mths turned into almost 2 yrs. It was 6 mths before I could wear flat shoes for more than an hour or two. Then when I went shopping for flats, I found out they were all ugly. More depression = MORE EATING
I went out a time or three with the gals from the Big Red running group at KatyFit (L.O.V.E. them!) but I couldn’t complete the shortest of distances at the slowest of paces without having my foot swell and hurt for days. More depression = MUCH MORE EATING
So here I am now. B.I.G. I don’t recognize myself but I’m doing something about it and change is ongoing. I’ve hired an executive wellness coach (David Greenwalt) I’m eating right. I’m accountable and leveraged (I’m going to lose a lot of something this year and it can be LBs or $$$)
I’m also beginning to run again but it’s like I’ve never done it before. I’m a complete novice except that I remember what it felt like for my body to cover 14 miles (training run/walk but I finished damn it!) It’s still frustrating but I’m doing it.
The Run Less, Run Faster plan for beginners training for a 5k seemed like a wise decision so I’m following it. The 3/2 plan (I think) is my best chance to avoid re-injuring the foot. So far, so good — no pain while running or afterwards. And instead of having a swollen unrecognizable object at the end of my left leg the next morning, I see a foot that’s had all the excess fluid pounded out of it. Soon, very soon, I expect to see muscles in my feet again. I miss them.
So that’s my story. That’s why I call myself a runner even though I don’t vaguely resemble one at the moment. On the inside – the me that only I see – I’m a runner. Not a fast one, but I’m there and I’m going to continue to be one long past the point of anyone looking at me and recognizing my kick ass runner’s legs.