Welcome Back, Walsh

47 days ago, I ran 39.3 miles.  Today, I ran 4.  Gotta (re)start somewhere, I guess.

Today's run was an interesting experience for a number of reasons.  First, since I've been "walking" for "exercise," I've been carrying my iPhone and listening to tunes a lot, which I am staunchly opposed to as a runner.  So when I left my apartment this morning carrying just my keys, I felt as though I had forgotten something critical, like shorts.  Which I might as well have, since I celebrated my return by donning my shortest short shorts.

Second, my Garmin has not been used since March 23rd, since I didn't bother bringing it to Ireland for a race that would take longer than the Garmin battery can last.  When I finally plugged it in to charge, it thought it was 3:21pm on April 30th.  Luckily that seemed to resolved itself as soon as it connected with the satellites, but since it was so out of practice at doing that, it took more than a mile, and wasn't the most accurate it's ever been...

Believe it or not, I did not actually fly to the Park and start my run there.
Nor did I run up and down Park for two blocks on my way home.

Third, while I was pleasantly surprised that I actually could still run at respectable paces, my endurance is absolutely shot.  4 miles might as well have been 40.  In fact, I came home and subsequently felt so barfy, I was late to work.  But at least my foot feels fine.

I know that the come back is a critical phase, post-stress fracture, and I want to be diligent about not re-injuring myself by doing too much, too soon.  Unfortunately, I have no idea how to appropriately do this.  I didn't think to ask the doctor at the time, and he didn't volunteer that information.  Pfitzinger has some information I've found helpful, including tips such as "When you can walk briskly for an hour without pain, you should be able to try a small dose of running," which means I was actually doing something right without even knowing it!  

That said, Pfitz also has complicated tables suggesting 5 min of running followed by 5 minutes of walking followed by 7 minutes of running, followed by 3 minutes of walking, ad nuaseum.  Let's be real: I'm just not going to do that.  

But what I will do is: run no more often than every other day; continue to cross train; and build miles slooooooooly..  I was averaging 15-20 mpw of walking, but I'm looking at 10-15 running miles each of the next two weeks, and using the 10% rule through June, until I'm holding down 30+mpw.   Which will already put me about a month behind for Fall training.  How inspiring...

Based on that, my next few days will theoretically look like this:

Wed: Run 4 miles.  Check!
Thurs: SoulCycle, because I already registered for it
Fri: Business trip, excellent excuse to save space and not pack sneakers, holler!
Sat: Run 4 miles to combat inevitable Memorial Day Weekend hangover
Sun: Lie out in bikini, SPF 1,000,000
Mon: Go for a walk, try to remember what it is we're memorializing
Tue: Run 5 miles, weep over return to office after five days out
Wed: SoulCycle
Thurs: Pack for Cape Cod, including sneakers
Fri: Drive to Cape, run 4 miles, make much merriment
Sat: Combat rehearsal dinner hangover with wedding day alcohol
Sun: Easy short run on the beach, sweat out alcohol

Do you have any tips for coming back from a stress fracture?  Fair warning: if they include kale, I hate you.

Sunday Wrap Up: 58 Days

58 days ago, I went for a 21 mile run, and when I returned, my foot kind of hurt. In the ensuing 57 days, I have run a total of two times (three, if you count the solitary mile I 'fessed up to last week). Two runs, in two months.

By some miracle (read: SoulCycle), I have managed to not double in girth in that time. However, there is absolutely no telling how my running speed, or endurance, has suffered in the last two months, (not to mention the ten months before that when I avoided the track like it was a vector for STDs...).

Suffice it to say, my triumphant return to running on Wednesday will be interesting, and walking running the fine line between training and stress fracture: part two will be a challenge. But after two months of mandated leave, here's hoping I am equal to the task.

Just this once, a stress fracture weekly wrap up:

Number of Miles Walked This Week: 17. I don't count my daily commute to work and back each day, just the miles that are intentional "exercise." Non-sweaty, stoplight-riddled "exercise..."

Number of Spin Classes Attended This Week: 3. I max out at three, as developing a case of crotch rot would sort of undermine the whole "not doubling in girth while injured" thing I've worked to achieve.

Total Workout Time This Week: 5 hours 38 minutes.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: y=mx+b. Some things never change. Those things inckude my mastery of math, and my proclivity for fine intoxicants.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Maine Beer Company's Mo, Zoe, and Peeper Ale; Harpoon IPA, Guinness, Westbrook's Shane's Big DIPA.

Cross your fingers for me on Wednesday. But not your toes - can't risk 'em again.

The Break Up

This is a love story about a girl and a boot.  It does not have a happy ending.

Well I guess it does, if you're cheering for the girl.  If you're cheering for the love part, no such luck.

I spent three weeks diligently wearing my boot all over town (this town, and also various towns in suburban New York and Connecticut and New Jersey.  That boot got a lot of mileage, pun absolutely intended).  The boot was heavy and cumbersome and made my outfits look stupid (Brennan, sorry I ruined all the pictures from your bridal shower...).  I hated that boot very much, but I persevered because my past relationships taught me that people can change.

Just kidding!  My past relationships taught me to be selfish as fuck if you want something, and so I selfishly ruined people's photographs and stomped on their feet in the bars because the something I wanted was to get better.

Last Wednesday, I returned to Dr. Metzl discouraged.  I had done everything* he'd instructed and my foot felt exactly as it had three weeks prior when I was condemned to the boot.  Which is to say, not painful, but not right either. I was convinced I had made zero progress and would possibly be forced to live out my life in the boot forever, ruining a whole slew of wedding photos this summer and every summer to come.

(*I cheated once, the day before I went to the doctor.  In the midst of my morning constitutional, I decided "I'm going to the doctor tomorrow anyway, I might as well see what happens if I try to run."  I ran 1 mile.  Nothing happened.)

Miraculously, though, Dr. Metzl squeezed and poked and declared "yeah, you're done with the boot." WHAAAA?!  Done with the boot?  How can this be?  This feels the same!  OMG was it never broken AT ALL?!

Evidently, Dr. Metzl could feel a callus developing on the bone, which is what happens when a stress fracture heals itself.  He drew me a little diagram, which I forgot to photograph, so here is approximately what it looked like:

Metzl may have used more precise terminology when he described it to me.  He also took a look at my x-rays, which looked great, if I do say so myself.

So despite the fact that my foot wasn't feeling any better, I officially dumped the boot on Wednesday (I didn't even phase it out, because I have learned from past relationships that when you attempt that, they just. Keep.  Calling.).  And just to be sure I don't go back to it, I donated it to broken footed kids in Africa.  Not even kidding.  I'm not sure how many broken footed African children have size 10 feet, but I hope it helps someone.  Now if only there were a way to send used boyfriends to faraway continents...

In terms of where we go from here, regrettably I don't get to just go back to running right away, like a Forrest Gump breaking out of his braces.

In fact, I'm condemned to two more weeks sans running (technically Dr. Metzl said "two to three" which I obviously interpreted as "two").  And tempting as it was to buck Dr. Metzl's advice and start running right away, after spending Wednesday night in high heels, I was essentially paralyzed Thursday and Friday, so it seems my foot really was/continues to be broken.  Touché.  But there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm looking forward to a reason to write weekly wrap ups again soon.

In the meantime, I'll keep sweating it out at Soul Cycle and strolling along every block between 96th and 14th Streets.  And thinking about this:

F*%k That Friday: The Boot

Spring has FINALLY sprung in New York, and I'm furious.  While you people are all "whee yay outdoor fun things!" I'm dragging a ski boot behind me.  

I look happy about having the boot here, but I'm not.  I'm just under the influence.

Now granted, as injuries go, this one is by no means debilitating.  I'm even allowed to take off the boot and exercise!  But that doesn't mean that aren't a great many things that suck about the boot.  And in honor of F*%k That Friday, I will enumerate them here:

1. Exercise.  Yes, fine, I can take the boot off and put spin shoes on and go to SoulCycle to get my sweat fix.  And yes, my father did feel badly enough for my sidelined ass that he gifted me with my very own spin shoes, so that while I ride out (literally...) this injury, I'm not doing it in shoes someone else has sweat in.  But as mentioned above, it's finally nice out.  I would much rather be outdoors than locked inside a dark spin studio.  Which brings us to the other "fitness" option I've explored...

2. Walking.  This is not exercise.  It's not at all like running very slowly. It's totally different.  And far less awesome.  First of all, I don't sweat doing it.  Second of all, I have to keep my head down while I'm doing it because I'm too embarrassed to make eye contact with the runners in the Park.  I'm one of you, you know!  Stop judging me!

3. Other walking.  So beyond walking for "fitness," I do it to, like, get to work and back everyday.  For these excursions, I wear the boot and not my sneakers, because that's the point of the boot, right?  In 2-plus weeks of doing this, I have really developed my right ass cheek.  Furthermore, all my left shoes are getting worn down.

4. Navigating bars.  You would think I would have found a solution to this problem on day 2, but sadly, this bulky boot makes it very challenging to get myself around inside a crowded bar.  And because my foot is far away from my tits face where people are looking, no one I talk to while I'm out on the town even notices my injury and offers to go to the bar and procure a drink for me.  Shit's rude.

5. My actual recovery.  My foot feels the same as it did the day I went into this thing.  

In summation, a surgical boot?  F*%k That!