Dear Friends,

(Warning: Pictures have absolutely nothing to do with this post... as per the usual...usually. 

These were shot during a "nature break" on the drive home from Arizona.}

I rolled my ankle in March
I rolled it pretty hard.
Something went pop, and I was like "Oh crap! I just full-on busted my ankle!"
Then I sat there for 5-10 minutes, not daring to stand on it.
Then I got up and verrrry gingerly applied pressure on it.
And I was like "Hm! It's actually not that bad. Thank heaven for that!"

Within three days, it felt better.

2 weeks later, I started a "Couch to 5K" program to get into shape. The plan was to run a 5K {The Dirty Dash}in June, and then run a half marathon in July. I was LOVING it. {Holler, totally fun neighbs/running partner-friends}.

Then I started having pain and discomfort in the ankle I had rolled. Then it got worse. Then it got so bad, I realized that I had better stop running. So I stopped.

Then it got worse.
And worse.
And worse.

Which, I think is really weird because I was doing LESS on it now than ever before! What gives?!

I made an appointment with our family doc.
He referred me to a physical Therapist.
And yesterday, I went to see the physical therapist.

He checked again for breaks - and concluded that I don't have any. He thinks I messed up the tendon/ligament stuff around my ankle. {His terms were more professional, but that's the jist of it}

 I started feeling really upset.
I REALLY hate being injured.
It really bothers me when my body doesn't work right.
I am a mom.
I have a ton of stuff to do every single day.
I can't be out of commission.

{Okay, sure, sometimes life gets so crazy that I find myself daydreaming about getting into a car accident jeeeust awful enough that I have to stay in the hospital for a week...or three... you know, long enough to sleep till ten everyday and watch several marathons of The Real Housewives of ...well, anywhere, really, {I'm not picky} and eat jello and hospital cafeteria roast beef dinners and what not, but I digress.}

The truth is, I have a lot going on, and I nearly spiral into a full-blown panic attack when my body starts giving out on me. An even greater truth is: This is SUCH a first world problem! I have it really good, and there are lots of moms out there being awesome moms who don't even HAVE left legs {Or right legs...or other useful appendages, that I happen to have...} So, I feel sort of ridiculous even complaining.

But yeah, as I sat in the Physical Therapists' office, I started getting really upset. Everyone in the office was lovely, and kind, and I don't have a single negative thing to say about them BUT, I couldn't shake the sad, angry feelings I was feeling. I wanted to burst into tears, and that is just NOT LIKE ME!

So strange.

I put on a brave face, and was polite and what not, but it was just. hard.


 Do you know what I think it is? {This might sound super weird, so bear with me.}I think it is bringing up/triggering a bad experience I had when I was ten. {Yeah, I know.} I tore up the ligaments on my right ankle right at the beginning of the summer, and I had to have a cast on for almost 3 months. It was AWFUL. I had just been cast as the lead in "Annie" for the County Fair Theater Production, and as a result of literally "breaking my leg," {bah ha ha, classic theater jokes...} my understudy took over for the remainder of the production. I couldn't ride bikes... I couldn't swim... I couldn't do much of anything, and it was hard.

THEN, {and I had forgotten this part} when I got the cast off, my leg was pathetically weak. I had to do a lot of physical therapy to get it back to a functioning state again. I hated it then too! It hurt. It was time-consuming. It was very uncomfortable, and I also think I have a weird hang up with needing help from others.

I'm like an old dog. I just want to crawl under a front porch somewhere and lick my wounds all by my lone.

So, sitting in my physical therapists' office yesterday, I think those old resentments bubbled up, and I was totally unprepared for that. Wow. I had been happy when I set the appointment. I was actually excited to go and get some answers and start working toward a solution, and within 5 minutes of being there, I wanted to burn that mother down! Ha ha!

{Do I sound crazy yet? Maybe I should be going to a few "other" kinds of doctors as well...hm.}

I think I was also upset because I am facing some hard facts. My bones and body aren't genetically designed to do high impact exercises. As much as I enjoy running, it is jacking my body up, and I need this body to last for at LEAST another 55 years or so.  So it looks like I need to LAY OFF the running. And that makes me sad. I wanted to run the dirty dash. My group was going to dress up as 1950s housewives {pearls, beehives, dresses, and the like} and get all muddy and stuff. It was going to be glorious. And now I'm going to be left out. {Again, SUCH a first world problem...by all means, don't cry for me, Argentina...and Africa, and India...and not even you, Romania.}

So I think I'm just mourning the loss of my very short running career, and an end to marathon-running delusions of grandeur as I know them. Boo.

However, I'm grateful for the insights I received to better understand why I might be feeling the way I was feeling.

 

On a brighter note, my foot seems to be doing better after even one session. So, I have new hope that I can at least do dishes, and make talent show costumes, and weed my front yard, and be a taxi, and go on family walks...and hopefully even be barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen near you sometime very soon!{A feminist prolly just rolled over in her grave somewhere.}

I also don't need good running genes to teach HypnoBirthing, or serve as someone's doula. My body is well-equipped to do THOSE things as it is. And thank heaven for that, as I am infinitely more passionate about babies, and awesome births than I will ever be about running.

Xo,
Lola

P.S. If you DO have good running genes, then, in the famed words of one Napoleon Dynamite, I say unto you: "Lucky!"
I also say, you should check out this race.
And you should tell other people about it.
And, you should go run in it, and put those blessed "running genes" to good use.