Woe is Me – Saga of a Marathon Runner

Well if you didn’t know already, now you know that I’m a marathon runner. Yes, you heard me right. I run marathons – FOR FUN! I get up early on Saturday mornings to run lots and lots of miles. I run at least 2 days during the week and cross train all the other days. I am a happy runner. I love to socialize while running and I get excited to see my running buddies at early morning track workouts. Am I certifiably insane? Maybe.  I chock up my running addiction to the runner’s high and my fantastic runner friends. It’s a fabulous running world.

Until you injure yourself. Then it’s a dark, depressing cry-athon. Woe is me. I am now living the injured person’s life.  All I want to do is eat brownies and drinks wine, lots of wine. And pout.

How did I injure myself? Well I was out running a mid-week run when the tragedy occurred. At about mile 5, I could feel my calf getting tight. I stretched it out and kept going – no big deal. At about mile 7, I could really feel it, so I slowed down. When I hit mile 7.5, my calf "popped" and boy, did it hurt. I limped off to the side and couldn't run or walk. I limped back to my car. When I got home, I RICE'd (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) and took ibuprofen. And cried. And got hungry and ate homemade fetticini alfredo – at 9:30 at night to make myself feel better. And then went to bed.

This morning I woke up and the pain has lessened. It’s definitely still there and there is no way I can run. So, I’m just bummed and hoping that with rest this weekend, it will start to heal. I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday, and hopefully that will bring good news and a recovery plan. Stay tuned.