It’s been over a month since I last posted; it feels like forever.
We’re weeks away from moving. I’m doing the hard things now, like getting rid of some favorite furniture and sending my piano off to a friend for “babysitting” until my daughter is in a stable enough living space to house it. I’m not one who is really attached to things, but some things are harder to set aside than others. The kids’ bedrooms are empty; the only things in there are in transition–either leaving for good or moving with us. Our bedroom is pretty bare (and will be extremely bare once the furniture set goes to a new home). Kitchen cabinets are empty except for what we use right now. The storage unit is full. I warned my son that this house will look very empty when he comes home in another week.
I’ve been busy with some new responsibilities with Austin Fit Magazine, helping new editor-at-large and friend Melanie Moore with writing and editing as they transition under her leadership. I love it. It’s tons of fun, extremely stimulating, and something that I hope becomes permanent.
Running…well, I’ve been up and I’ve been down. Over the last month, I progressed to running 3 days a week (once on the road and twice at Lady Bird Lake) for up to four 7-minute intervals. And then, last week, I had a setback. My ankle announced “NO” and I made a trip in to see my wonderful PT, Christine. I thought I’d been reading my body but no, I’d been pushing a bit too hard and ignoring some subtle (well, they were subtle to me) signs that I was doing too much. Signs like achiness and stiffness in the morning, general soreness, and light swelling. (Things that most of us as runners tend to ignore; think of all those runs where the first mile feels like hell and every other mile is great.) My hilly neighborhood road route was too much, even though I was feeling great while running. I got wild and crazy and ran back-to-back two days in one week after I got stuck at home, waiting for a delivery and missed my regular run date–nope, not good at all. My ankle swelled horribly, there was a painful “snap” while walking, and so I’ve been sidelined and put back in the compression sock until Tuesday. And then, regression; I’m back to four 4-minute intervals twice a week.
I posted on Facebook recently that recovery is the hardest training I’ve ever done, and I mean it. It’s such a frustrating mental exercise. It’s hard to reconcile what I’m allowed to do with what I want to do with what I used to be able to do with where I want to be in the future. This process is very lengthy, and there are very few “positives” to celebrate along the way because everything feels like less than before I was hurt. And now it looks like there’s not even a very linear progression of improvement to count on. The irony is that I have my setback right after the first week where I began to feel normal, normal in running and schedule and how my body felt. Christine tells me this is good, that it shows we’re pushing the edge of what I can do. Sigh. I can’t wait for the day when it’s my spirit, not my ankle, that determines “the edge.”
I allowed myself 24-hours of pity party (and my walking partner Dr. Stephanie sure got an earful of it), so that’s done. I think I’ll take my bike in for a cleaning and tune-up next week and start hitting the veloway for a little something different. I need a schedule change up, something to do other than aqua jogging and walking on those non-running days. And I’m really looking forward to all the flat, new running routes that will be outside my front door in just 3 weeks.