Friday, September 18, 2009

Not Your Av-er-age PT Visit

During my PT appointment Monday, my physical therapist, Bill, rather casually dropped the news that I may be able to start running again soon. He said something like this: "Go ahead and make an appointment for later in the week. We'll see how everything looks and start to talk about getting you running again."

Reader, I got tears in my eyes. Despite the various upsides of Not Running For A Month (i.e., finding my way to the pool and the weight room, feeling all of the various aches and twinges in my knees and shoulders subside and then clear up, redirecting all that energy into cleaning the house now and again) I still miss running with a visceral ache that sometimes overwhelms me, especially on Saturday mornings, typically my long run time.

I made the appointment for Thursday afternoon. And then, heaven help me, Thursday afternoon could not come fast enough. Nell had her first violin lesson Thursday morning, so we both woke Thursday with a pressing sense of fantastic possibility for the day. Her lesson went beautifully. She has a lovely teacher who looks and talks like Emma Thompson from the English Theatre. Perfect.

The kids and I had lunch in Wilcox Park near the PT's office in Westerly, RI. After lunch they climbed all over the trees and the big metal statue of the Runaway Bunny (Margaret Wise Brown has some connection to Westerly, RI).

I was sitting on a bench nearby as Ben started to slide backwards off the bunny's bum. I got up quickly to catch him and RRRRIIIIIPPPP, there went every tendon and ligament in my shin and ankle. Damn. I just hate being injured. You never know when some little everyday movement is going to come along and screw you all up. There is simply no way, given my current lifestyle, to prevent constant, minor re-injuries.

When we got to the PT's office we were greeted by the news that Bill's wife had gone into labor that morning and no one was sure when he would be back.


Of course this was wonderful news. Of course we were happy for him and his wife (who teaches the kids' class at the Nature Center). But, man! Why today? My Big Day?? I had been soooooo looking forward to seeing him and talking about "maybe getting me running again."

I know what you're thinking: You, Pam, are a terrible person for even considering such blaspheme. Unadulterated happiness is what was called for. New baby. New life. Just get over yourself and forget about Running for a teeny second. You yourself have children. You know what a momentous occasion this is for that wonderful family. You know how lovely and difficult it is to give birth, and even more difficult, to have a caterwauling newborn in the house. Get a freaking grip.

And you're right. I'm over it.

Bill's assistant Elaine worked on me. She said that Bill had not mentioned anything to her about me Starting to Run before he dashed out the door to assist his laboring wife. Imagine!

I was sort of devastated, but I did my best to put on a brave face when she told me it would be best to talk to Bill directly before I started running again. Especially since I had wrenched my ankle just moments before. And then she and the kids got to work.

My homeschooled children are getting quite an education in the treatment of Anterior Tibialis Tendonitis. This office has been wonderfully welcoming to the kids. They know all about ultrasound and the beneficial effects of heat on healing soft tissue. They know how to hook up the electrodes for my anti-inflammatory treatment.

(Notice the lovely black toenail. My final remnant (aside from this pesky tendonitis) from Vermont.)

They know how to push the start button on the little electricity maker.

And they each have their own method for icing my leg post-massage. Ben is good for about 45 seconds, and then he gets "tired."

Simon, the budding engineer, is carefully methodical.

And Nell, understanding how cold this must feel on my poor leg, looks impish, perhaps borderline sadistic.

The Saturday after this was especially bad. I guess had let my guard down all week, figuring I would probably be running this weekend. So Not Running hit me especially hard. Brian, who woke Saturday morning to find me downstairs with my head on the kitchen table, was wonderfully supportive. He is so good at putting things in perspective.

Yes, I will get better. Yes, I will run again. No, I am not getting any younger.

I went off to coach Nell's soccer game mid-morning in a somewhat better state of mind. This is Nell's first season and she loves it. I help coach both soccer and swimteam this fall, which is a bit much, but almost always rewarding and fun. Her team scored their first goal of the season (third game), which went a long way to restoring my spirits. The kids were so thrilled, you'd think they'd won the World Cup.

I went for a medium-length bike ride in the afternoon to take the edge off. I had not biked in about month either. It felt so good to be moving through the streets on the pristine blue early-autumn afternoon. And my ankle felt fine. No ill effects from the ride. Baby steps. Moving in the right direction......

1 comment:

  1. Awwww, even I am starting to feel bad for you. I hope you're up and running soon (pun intended)!


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