Two sleeps after completing the Sunny Coast half marathon, I trotted out to do a recovery jog and loosen up my body. Much to my disappointment I still had significant pain in my right calf, enough so, I put the brakes on after only 100 metres and returned home. The searing pain was knife-like stabbing into the back of my lower leg. I simply needed more rest. I was feeling the effects of running a hard 21.1km, so I knew it would do me good.
At the end of the week, I was still unable to run, at all. I had obviously done more damage than originally thought. I took myself to the Doctor and booked an ultrasound that afternoon. It was cold and slimy as the probe rolled over my leg. Lying on my stomach, the undecipherable picture on the screen appeared as a bunch of fibrous tissue. Worst-case-scenario thoughts flew around my mind like race cars. I was unnecessarily torturing myself. I couldn’t wait any longer and blurted out. ‘Have I torn anything?’ Only really wanting a reply if the answer if it was No.
I saw a dark patch that stood out like an expectant Mum’s tum. ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ was the reply. What…….?! You are going to leave me here to endure more torment? What sort of establishment purposely inflicts suffering and distress? I heard my daughter’s words in my head. ‘Calm the farm, Mum.’ Yes, breathe and stop thinking. My over-analysing tendencies were in full flight. I needed to know the outcome. The sooner I knew, the sooner I could deal with what comes next.
The attendant returned to my room to inform me he had spoken to the reporting Dr and I would need Physio. ‘Physio??’ I wasn’t sure if the question was my head or I if sprouted it out loud. My puzzled face provoked him to continue. ‘You have a 2.4cm tear in your Plantaris muscle, so no running for a month and you will need physio to move the hematoma that has formed.’ Never had I imagined this extent of damage. My breath was shallow as I fought to hide my shock. One month?? I couldn’t go a whole month without endorphins. I can’t function without my high. My rationale one of a drug addict. I’ve already had a week off and that has nearly killed me. Okay, okay so now my exaggeration tendencies are rearing their ugly heads as well.
Sitting in my car, I dialled my husband’s number praying he was available to talk. He was extremely patient listening as my initially calm demeanour reported all the facts. My voice devoid of emotion. A silent pause, then…….‘How do you feel about it?’ Knowing me so well and understanding what running means to me, he had to ask. With his concerning words touching the vulnerability I was trying so hard to disguise, I lost it. The damn wall being cracked, tears tumbled down my face. I tried to speak, only to come out as I illegible babble. I realised I was devastated. My passion lies in running. It fills my life with positives on many levels. I love the endorphin hit, the freedom I feel, the clarity of thought it gives me, allowing me to feast on treats and it dispels all the crazy in my life.
Most of all though, I love the running community and the remarkable people I have met along my journey. I am constantly being inspired by watching others kick their goals and sometimes smash them to the curb. I am constantly motivated to challenge myself to become more; to be the best I can be. Running buddies have become friends and confidants I share the inner most part of myself with. As the onslaught of my blubbering eventually subsided, I realised it was these aspects I would be grieving for the next 30 days.
To keep my aerobic capacity up, my coach decided it would be a good idea to swim. I detest swimming! I hated the idea. It had to be forty degrees for me to contemplate getting in the water. Even though it was spring and warming up, it was still cold at dawn. At the very most, I would think about it.
Two days later I came down with the flu. It floored me for two weeks and I was miserable. I hit victim mode and felt sorry for myself. As if a torn calf was not enough, I was bombarded with the flu as well. I felt like I was getting depressed, I hid away from the world. One of my girlfriends kindly pointed out that it was the best time to get the flu as I couldn’t run anyway, may as well get it all over and done with together. It was a positive theory, but it didn’t help.
Getting the kids off to school, I climbed back into bed to sulk and reflected on the last few months of my training. Leading in to the half marathon, I became quite complacent about it all and each training session was a struggle. Usually I am not one to pull out of a session and I didn’t allow myself to, until the week before. Up until then I kept pushing through the pain when my body was obviously fatigued. It is so much easier to see it clearly when not in the situation. Looking back my body was exhausted and screaming at me for a rest. Hence getting a vicious calf tear and contracting the flu.
So instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to take on a different challenge. I bucked up, willed myself out of it and looked at my recovery as a self-healing process. I nurtured myself and rested my mind and body. I gave myself what I needed rather than trying to fight against it to get out there to run as soon as I could. The minute I decided that, I became happier within myself and actually looked forward to my rest.
I had massage on my calf twice a week and when the effects of the flu subsided, commenced cycling. These help to keep muscles supple and active, allowing blood flow to help heal the area. I bathed in Epsom salts and sprayed liquid magnesium on my calf every couple of hours. These practices have helped me heal quickly and come back stronger.
On reflection, I had lost my mojo and love for running. Each session was feeling like a chore, rather than pleasure. I feel I had overtrained and was run down. I am not sure my body had recovered enough from my operation and sickness I experienced earlier in the year, so now it was time to allow my body and mind to do just that.
I am now back running after six weeks off. I felt my calf wasn’t quite right after the fifth week and being very cautious, decided to give it another week to strengthen a little more. It was probably ready, but there is no way I was going to come back too early and jeopardize doing more damage and having another few weeks off. I could cope with one more week, not another five.
Over the past couple of weeks since shaking the flu, I have been cycling, stationary and on the road. This has been a great way to keep some strength and aerobic capacity. Because I have been able to ease back into it and train with no agenda, I have really been enjoying my running again. I run when I feel like it and at the pace I wish. No pressure, no program, no pain. It is fun again.
I think we go through different stages of what we need from running. And we will certainly get out of running what we put into it. But for me right now is about contemplation time. I need to decide if and what my next goals will be. Well llet’s be honest here, it will be what, not if? Although I have competed in all distances from 100metres to full marathons and all in between, I need to decide what my next goal will be. This year my goal has been to decrease my 5km time to see if I can be competitive at National level for next year. One thing I have realised is that I am not really interested in running 5km on a track. I have done 3km and that was mundane enough. I get more pleasure from road races, but I may have an opportunity to be part of a Queensland relay team in the 800m or 1500m if I can get my times down low enough. So for me right now, it is about contemplation……..decisions, decisions!!
There is no hurry though to decide anything just yet, the Australian Masters Championships are not until April next year. Also the World Championships happen to be on our home turf in Australia, so maybe that can be an option……..after all, how often am I going to have the opportunity to adorn the Green and Gold?
Stay tuned for my 2016 goals. But until then stay happy and have fun on the run!
Running Off at the Mouth.... 