So this whole running thing was going pretty well. Really. I was (loosely) following my marathon training plan, modifying for the various half marathons slipped in the schedule. I even hit the first of my 20 mile runs, with plans to back down a week, then tackle a second 20 mile run. After spending the first four month of 2012 with bronchitis, it’s been a good year and I’ve been able to be far more consistent with my runs and this summer has been great.
So many fun races & runs, so much progress, so on track for this marathon coming up in three weeks.
I was a little sore after my 20 miler, but figured that was normal. Only it didn’t quite go away. With the help of my anatomy app, I came to the conclusion it was this little muscle in my right foot that was giving me such grief.
It runs from the base of my big toe toward my heel, and sometimes when I run, I can feel it “rub” the wrong way, almost like it’s catching against the bone. It creates quite the little zing up my foot that literally stops me mid stride. Fabulous. I read somewhere that it may have something to do with bunions
even though I had those removed years ago. Either way, apparently it’s strained. So I did what any smart runner would do, I headed to my doctor. He confirmed my suspicion and worked some pain magic on my foot and calf, gave me some exercises to do for my arch, and sent me on my way. At least it wasn’t the dreaded plantar fascitis, right? I went for a 5 mile run to test it out. Hallelujah! Pain free and cruising along without issue. I was so wrapped up in my run and how good my foot felt that I didn’t notice my left heel was actually hurting. A lot. As in, sound the alarm, something is significantly wrong. I limped off the treadmill and could not even bear any weight down on my heel without it hurting. It felt badly bruised, at best. I had another appointment scheduled for the end of the week with my doctor, so figured I would lay off it and hope for the best. If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know how this plays out.
Oh, and did I mention I caught a wicked cold while I was trying to let my body recover? Yeah, add that to the mix. Thankfully, there was no indication of a rupture, just a strain. So here we are, three weeks away from my one marathon this year with two somewhat injured feet and a cold. I’ve rested, I’ve slept, I haven’t run. This cold has slowly added a cough to the mix. I’ve been using my inhaler
and have the jitters like a junkie all the time to get through some nasty coughing fits and am praying I’m not heading down that bronchitis road once again.
I know that tapering is supposed to bring about some kind of madness, and the crazy train has definitely left the station. The runner in me wants to seek every treatment, therapy, and tape job to make this race happen. Then again, I’m actually open to the idea of dropping down to the half marathon rather than subjecting my body to more havoc. Funny, my doctor didn’t even suggest that as an option. When I mentioned it, he said, “Well, that’s what a reasonable person would do…but that’s not you.” Dang, was that a challenge I need to step up to?
What would you do?