This year was supposed to be the Year of No Injuries.
The universe, it seems, had other plans.
Not wanting to relive months of healing and rehabilitation like I did for the first half of 2010, I carefully trained for a half marathon through the winter. Then I carefully built up my base in biking and swimming with the goal in mind of doing my first Ironman 70.3 this summer in Racine, Wis.
Literally, I’ve been building up over the past five months. And I gave up what few drinks I had a week. And seeing my friends often. And I’ve made so many other sacrifices with the goal of finishing a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike and 13.1-mile run on July 17.
Not wanting to sacrifice quality family time, too, last weekend I used Bike the Drive as a training ride. The kiddo was cold thanks to the foggy, chilly morning. So she and I did dozens of jumping jacks to warm up. We had a ball and achieved our goal of warming up.
I wore my cycling shoes, which are hard, and didn’t think anything of it. Until my foot started to ache on Sunday night. The ache turned into pain on the outer edge of my foot and it stayed pretty intense for several days. Since it wasn’t starting to subside, I called the doctor.
[Editor’s note: major shout out to Ken Chin for squeezing me in. There was a two-week wait and he pulled some strings, and — possibly — saved me from needing surgery had I hobbled around any longer on a broken bone.]
Now how in the world can jumping jacks give one a stress fracture, you might wonder. Well, my feet naturally make a “c” shape when they’re relaxed (high arch). That means I put a lot of weight on the outer side of my feet, where the fifth metatarsal is located. Now, when that bone is smacked over and over and over again in hard shoes — when it’s already more susceptible to injury naturally — it breaks.
So, now I’m on the disabled list.
I’ve been having a one-person pity party for the last 18 hours. So many silly little things are making me sob all over again. The nurse at my physical today (had my Vitamin D and bone density checked) when she said, “Wow, your heart rate is really low. You must work out.” The pregnant woman who gave me her seat on the crowded bus. Just waking up and realizing it wasn’t all a nightmare had me bawling in the bathroom for 15 minutes.
I’m giving myself a wallowing deadline. I have until midnight tonight, and then it’s back to business.
I have requested deferrals from the 70.3 event in Racine and the sprint tri I had planned to do for practice in two weeks. I am hopeful that I’ll be healed by July 13 (six weeks from yesterday). That should give me enough time to do the Olympic distance at the Chicago Triathlon on Aug. 28.
I just need to focus and keep going to the pool to swim and “run.”
Next year. That’s my year.