Thursday, September 24, 2009

Inching back to glory

Hooray! I can run again.

Well. If you consider four extremely cautious miles on a flat dirt track at an 11-minute pace running, then I am running again. Some do, some don't. Right now, I do!

I called the PT's office Monday morning and was shocked to discover that he had an appointment available at 11. If you read my last post you will know that his wife had gone into labor the previous Thursday morning. I figured it would be a week or two before he returned to work.

The kids and I and all of our books and pencils and games greeted him with a big CONGRATULATIONS, only to hear that there is still no baby. False alarm. His wife was having contractions every fifteen minutes all day, and then they went away. Her frustration puts mine to shame, I'm sure. By the last bloated, weary, supremely uncomfortable days of pregnancy, there is nothing you would not do to get that baby out of you and into the world. Nothing.

So he looked at my ankle, did the ultrasound, the electricity, the ACT, the ice (actually the kids did the ice) and pronounced me fit to run. The swelling is gone, the tendon looks good and the joint is ready to move.

My first run was the aforementioned four mile adventure around the half-mile dirt track near my house. I felt like the cat that ate the canary. Everyone passed me and I didn't care. The college studs doing interval work lapped me repeatedly. The fat lady with the iPod belting out Journey and Barry Manilow waddled around me. Old people passed me. Grannies and Grandpas. I didn't care. I was running! Hot damn, I was running!

I have gone out every day since, very slowly, very cautiously. I run around the block or around the track. My ankle feels okay. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't feel 100% either. It feels kind of squishy, like it's holding together, but just barely. But there is no pain after the run or the next day. So I think I am well on the road to recovery.

I just don't want to mess it up. It's like I've been reunited with an old friend after a falling out. You don't want too much exposure too soon. We are moving slowly. We are getting used to each other again, because we have both changed.

I am not taking any run for granted these days. Every run is a gift freely given and freely received. As I trot along I can feel the happiness blooming up inside me. Of course I look forward to the day when I can blast out the door at a blistering pace without giving my ankle a second thought. But right now, this tippy-toe pace is good. It is enough.


  1. Hey some days 11 min. miles are my fast pace. Good job!

  2. Hi Helen! Hooray! Back in the saddle again.....

  3. Yay! Hey, 11 minute miles are nothing to sneeze're moving, and right now, that's all that matters. Take care of yourself and don't push too hard...and believe me, that is definitely the pot calling the kettle black...just ask John. Or Mr. Barkley.

  4. Damn, it's about time. I thought you were going to baby that ankle throughout the fall and winter. Here I am having fun running through the woods all by myself, enjoying the cooler temps, the mud, the dust, the trees, the roots, the rocks, the stream crossings, the peace and serenity. You get the idea. So when is Brian going to let you out to play? I really have to meet him sometime. Glad you are moving; slower is better than not.

  5. Bob! Next Sunday? Trails......I'm giving it a test run this morning at Rocky Neck. 2 hours. I have my toes crossed.

    Mr. Barkley: Why is Karen the pot and why am I the kettle??


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