Welcome Back, Kotter

Greetings Blog world. It's been awhile. Have I stopped taking pictures, you ask? Most definitely not. But I've been a little...distracted.

For awhile, that distraction was running.
And then I stopped running*

* more on that later

So my excuses became a little lamer. Think of it as that feeling you get when you haven't done laundry in awhile, and it reaches the point of a towering mound of dirty clothes that you can't even possibly imagine accomplishing, so instead you let it turn into an overwhelming mountain that eventually takes a full day or more to finish.

And really, as much a I wanted to post my pictures, what are pictures without a story to go with them? Sometimes I had stories with no pictures and pictures that were only loosely connected with each other. Maybe I needed to broaden what I thought I should post about. Which brings me to that * above. Did I really stop running? Well...yes. My last run was on December 2nd. But let's rewind a bit.

A commemorative shot from right before my last run. December 2, 2017. 

SMUTTYNOSE YAS

This summer, I was lucky enough to be appointed one of the local leaders of my run group, the Oiselle Volée (not to be confused with the Haute Volée, Oiselle's elite team of professional runners. Mama is okay at running but she ain't no elite.) I'd already been trying to be more involved in the team, meeting up with other teammates every couple of Sundays for long runs around Boston.  On August 13th, we pulled together a fun Sunday of running and race spectating. Tracksmith was hosting a mile race along Newbury Street, and a friend and teammate was competing. I was training for a couple of half marathons (Smuttynose in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire and the South Shore Half in Norwell, Massachusetts) and had twelve miles on the docket, the last half a progressive run.
 I was running with some fairly speedy ladies and looking forward to getting that push I needed to hit my paces. And then, 2.5 miles in, bum bum buuuummmmm...disaster. I hopped up on the sidewalk from the street and my toe got caught in a crack in the sidewalk and I went flying. (I can still hear my friend in my ear as I went down, yelling out a long "Nooo!" as I went down). Long story short, my ankle was swollen and sore and I was barely able to walk.

The ladies post-Tracksmith Mile spectating, our racer in the middle, me favoring my bum leg

Did I go to a doctor? Don't be silly. Just a little ankle sprain, right? No big deal, I'll just shake it off. Took a week off, ran again, ouch ouch, took two weeks off, ran again but with an ankle brace, on the track, only one mile the first time, then two... until I thought I was basically back to normal.

Henceforth started what I'd call the most miserable fall racing experience of my very short running life. There was the BoldrDash obstacle course race (minus a few obstacles I could no longer do);

yes, there were real boulders in the BoldrDash

Reach the Beach, my first & favorite relay race (where I dropped down to the shortest amount of miles & struggled on all the hills); Smuttynose (couldn't keep up with my friends and just squeaking by under two hours);

post-Smuttynose with my girl Sarah - 4 time Boston Marathoner!! 

Tufts 10k (thought my face would overheat & learned I don't know how to throw water on my face without snorting it up my nose); the South Shore Half (hills on top of hills with a side of hills);

We ate the South Shore hills for breakfast! Okay, only Bre did. The hills ate me. 

                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                           

Some of those 3,000 sucked into an awful race

Like a proud rooster I apparently strutted my way to the finish. 

best coach eva 

 The Cambridge Half, a last minute edition that turned out to be the worst half marathon myself and probably all of the other 3,000 participants ever ran;




the Tracksmith Eikden 10k relay (where my teammates and I won "best costume"

That's right, 1st place costumes RIGHT HERE. Birds of Prey.
And yes, we ran with those on, so the award was WELL DESERVED. 

andnoIswearwedidn'tcheatwejustlookedawesome - yeah, this race was not actually a bad memory, even though I obviously couldn't contribute speed-wise to the team); and my Thanksgiving favorite, the Tiger-Turkey Chase (where my lovely FIL decided not to abandon me in my slow slog to the finish). It was after that last race, where I couldn't deny anymore that something, although I couldn't quite describe what, was wrong.

My 4th Tiger Turkey Chase! Possibly *not* my slowest result, but certainly not my best.
Shoutout to the little brother (far left), who ran his 2nd ever race (1st 5-miler) & freaking crushed it.
Yes, running prowess & good looks run in the family. 🤷

No, I wasn't in constant pain. It didn't hurt to run, per se. But something felt off. I was so tired, even during short, simple runs. I lost the ability to sprint. I had one speed, it was just okay, it didn't really change whether I was racing or not, running in the morning or afternoon, running 3 miles or 13. Sometimes after a race or long run, the top of the foot would feel sensitive and tender. I might bump it wrong and feel a bit of pain shoot up the leg. But otherwise, I really couldn't describe it as pain and so the deep fear I had was that I wasn't really injured, I had just gotten too into my head about my runs and was mentally unable to overcome it. Going to the doctor meant finding out for sure whether I was still physically injured from that fall, or whether I had lost all my confidence and determination and mental stamina and would never run fast(ish) again.

Riding the struggle bus with a smile on my face at the Tufts 10k. Note the ankle brace - last race I wore it for.

                     But I did. Shortly after spectating the California International Marathon (a post for another time), and running for the last time in 2017, on December 2nd, the day before the race, with some Oiselle west coast teammates and Nest leaders, I went to see my primary care physician. I'll cut to the chase - her prescription was "STOP running" and a referral to an orthopedic doctor at St. Elizabeth's Medical Center - just scroll down past all the old white men until you get to Dr. Luz. She's pretty awesome.

Kate inspires at CIM
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My slightly less inspirational sign 😛
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Who is that happy at mile 23?!? Oh right, Alicia.
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In January, I was finally able to see Dr. Luz and start the diagnosis process, including x-rays and an MRI. Her initial diagnosis, later backed up by the imaging, was a Lisfranc sprain and a high ankle sprain from an ATL tear that had at that point (now about a month since I had last run) been repaired. Later that night, J sent me a podcast discussing common football lower extremity injuries. Hearing them describe how some football players would go back too soon following a high ankle sprain and not feel pain but suddenly not be able to cut as quickly or react as quickly on the field really hit home with me. It wasn't all in my head and I wasn't alone in the strange way that my body was reacting to the injury.

Thank you Loco Races for this pretty bad ass race pic.
SmuttyNose, still wearing the brace, just able to come in under 2 hours (for the last time in 2017 😞)

After the MRI, I was stuck in a walking boot for what's turned into almost 14 weeks now. For the last week, I've finally started transitioning out of the boot and into a lace-up brace and clogs. Why clogs? The foot sprain requires extra attention and right now, even though it seems to have healed, I need a firm shoe that won't let the foot bend when I'm walking. Clogs aren't really my style, but luckily they're growing on me a bit and I didn't have to spend money on them (my dear friend Sarah lent me a pair - it's great having generous friends who wear the same shoe size :-D) I've also been going to PT for the last seven weeks at Boston Sports Medicine. I've gotta say, I'm loving it. That may have something to do with the fact that the first half of my appointment is usually dedicated to a heat wrap and a lengthy foot and ankle massage. There is also the part with the metal torture device that my fabulous PT scrapes on my calves (to get rid of all the knots from the back of my leg overcompensating for the ligament damage on the front side) that feels like she's slowly rubbing the skin off. But otherwise, I enjoy most of the appointment and have to say, my ankle and foot feel best right after I leave.

Where does that leave me now? Is anyone still reading this textbook of a post?

All smiles after Reach the Beach. Even a bum ankle couldn't ruin the best weekend. 

New road bike, courtesy of J's awesome uncle!

Well, the good news is I've discovered the joy of both riding a bike and swimming freestyle. Training has been going well, as well as it can be when I'm not cleared to ride my bike outside or kick when I swim. A sprint triathlon (looking at the Title 9 tri in September) is hopefully in my future.  I have some limited running/race goals for later this year when I'm cleared to start running again (my PT has aqua jogging facilities, which I anticipate needing, seeing as I don't even remember how to walk properly, let alone run) - the Falmouth Road Race in August and the Marine Corps Marathon in October, both races I've never run before. I'll still be training and working out and having fun the next several months in any way I know how (and still snapping pics at every race I attend, as spectator or runner). So that's where I am now. The story isn't finished by any means, but this feels as good a place as any to start all over.