I've been in denial for several weeks now. Before I joined the Y, when I was walking every day, and promising my Denver friend that I would do a Couch to 5k program with her (on the honor system), I did something to my foot. What did I do? I Have No Idea. This is a problem. It is possible that this is just like the soft tissue damage that happened to me in college. Back then, on dorm move-in day, a group of us were walking back from Target, and my roommate stepped on the back of my flip-flop while I kept trying to go forward. It tore the tendon at the base of my big toe. But it was August, and I was in marching band and a full-time pedestrian, so not walking was not an option. So this took an entire year to heal. My clumsy dogs have done this same move on me a couple of times since it became sandal season again this year. If this is all I did, then once again it will probably be just a matter of time for it to heal, while I have to lay off pushing myself to higher and higher weights on the leg press. That is depressing, since it's one of my favorite things to do in the weight room. But it wouldn't be the end of the world.
The other possibility is a little more daunting. It's possible that during one of those Couch to 5k days (when I was running in my worn-out tennis shoes, carrying all the extra weight I picked up between multiple surgeries and moving to the land of the greatest restaurants in the country), that I injured my foot in a more dramatic way. I'm hoping it isn't a fracture that I've been ignoring. But tonight at water aerobics, it was hurting so badly, that when I slowed down to give it a break, the instructor noticed the look on my face and asked me whether I was ok. I insisted I was just sore, but I was lying. Having a tennis shoe laced up on it right now hurts, and it was rough walking out of the gym. The last time I had a massage, about a month ago, when the therapist squeezed the ball of my foot, pain exploded so badly that I thought I would pass out. But instead I just stayed quiet, even when he twisted and stretched the foot. I'm supposed to see him this weekend. I think I will take a Sharpie and write "no" on the ball of my foot, so he knows to leave it alone, and doesn't forget which side is which.
I had wanted to spend today writing about the rain, but in a good way. When it was non-stop last month, I didn't want it to stop forever. I just needed a break. I wanted a balance between rain and sun. I think we are finally back to that point. It dried out and warmed up enough that when big thunderstorms popped up the last two evenings, it was finally enjoyable to watch and listen to the rain. I even went out in it today, just for the fun of it. The storms were short but intense, and the wind was strong enough to water the plants all the way up on the porch. Lightning struck close enough to the house to brown out the power. And of course--of course--the giant boy kitty was nowhere to be found. Since he was a baby, he has been afraid of thunderstorms. What a chicken.
Ok. I swear, I will call the clinic tomorrow, and ask them to tell me whether the damage is just soft tissue or bone. Hold me to that promise. If there is a way to weasel out of this, I will find it. I hate talking to doctors.
Two things: ice and p-o-d-I-a-t-r-I-s-t!
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