I’m struggling for the right words. Words to express my disappointment. Hurt. Frustration. Anger.
I fell Saturday night while carrying my kiddo down some stairs. I twisted my foot and then landed right on top of it. It was a dumb “ooops” on my part.
One ooops that is going to cost me 13.1 miles and months of training.
The doctor said no breaks show on the X-ray. But the sprain is severe, and my tendons and ligaments took a beating. The area near my ankle bone is swollen to the size of a golf ball.
And no running for at least several weeks. I don’t get to run the Star Wars Half at Disney. The words don’t seem real yet.
My heart is already aching to get back out on the pavement. I feel lost when I’m not following a training plan and trying to accomplish goals. This air cast is irritating. I hate my crutches, and they make even the most menial tasks like getting dressed last forever. I don’t like asking for help either.
But in the past day, I’ve already seen so much care and thoughtfulness from the people I’m blessed to call family and friends.
I am going to take this as a sign to slow down. To learn to ask for help. To be gentle with myself and let myself heal. (I don’t promise to be very good at those things, but I’ll try.) To remember that even though this seems rough, I am so lucky this is just a minor bump in my journey. Other people deal with so much more for so much longer.
Tonight, though, I am just hurting.
Read on. Run on.