I have been working very hard at continuing to maintain my five-day workout plan — despite my injury, my teaching responsibilities and my hectic work-mornings-one-day-work-nights-the-next-and-working-mornings-again schedule.
That means that I still get up at 5 a.m. every morning, even if I didn’t get home from work until 11 the night before — and even if I don’t have to be at work until 2 p.m. later.
It’s tough. Trying to keep my body clock on its regular schedule while I fill in some gaps until I can hire a Web producer is physically and mentally exhausting.
Take yesterday, for example.
I grabbed my gym bag, popped on my snow boots, dug out the car and headed to the gym. I swiped my card and started walking to the locker room — proud that I had once again woken up on schedule to tackle the crazy day ahead of me.
Halfway to the locker room, I stopped in my tracks. “Sh**,” I said out loud as I looked down at my feet. “I forgot my gym shoe.”
(Ha. That’s not a typo, I have to wear my fun little stress fracture boot, which I remembered for some reason, on one foot and a gym shoe on the other.)
I stood in that spot a little too long as I tried to calculate as quickly as possible (using my un-caffeinated brain) the benefits of cutting into 20 minutes of my workout time to go home to get my shoe and head back.
There were none. I decided to bike sans shoe (which the gym probably frowns upon).
My barefoot, er sockfoot, workout was not an insignificant one. I biked 45 minutes at level 15 (that’s pretty decent resistance), with varying hills and I made a goal of keeping my RPMs above 80 on the climbs and as high as possible for the flats.
It was a good ride – I went about 14 miles – and I was feel pretty good about my prospects of continuing to get in shape while injured.
Until today, that is.
Despite the fact that I again got up for a bootcamp I can’t fully participate in, I did my biking, my rowing splits, my lifting, my squats and my core work.
I was in high spirits looking toward my doctor appointment today at 1 p.m.
And when I got on the scale for my Friday weigh in, and it said I had gained a pound, my spirits crashed.
When I got to work and Geoff asked how I was doing, I am embarrassed to say I let a few tears out. I am terrified that this injury isn’t healing, isn’t going to heal well, and if it does, that it won’t do so in time. I have a lot of runs – Shamrock Shuffle (March 21; probably out), Soldier Field 10-miler (May 29), Chicago 13.1 (June 13) – planned leading up to my debut marathon in October. And if I can’t train properly for it, I shouldn’t run it either.
I’m struggling to try to keep a positive attitude.