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Thursday, January 27, 2011


Tonight I rolled my ankle in a truly craptacular way -- and with barely a week left until race day.

Of course, right?

Note to self: If you ever feel hesitant about doing speedwork at night on an uneven cinder track with only a headlamp for light, listen to what your gut is telling you. Stay home. Run another time. Or at least, tackle the uneven terrain in the daylight.

We were doing 3 x 3-minute intervals tonight. The first set went fine, but the second was another story. I remember rounding the first turn -- right where the track was the lumpiest -- and suddenly feeling an acute, stabbing pain in my left ankle. And then I was sitting on the grass and couldn't move my foot and was trying to decide whether to cry or not because it really, really hurt. (Thankfully, the latter choice won out. No crying in front of the teammates!)

My running buddies told me later that I had yelled, "Ow! I'm done!" and went down. (Honestly, I'm really surprised that's all I shouted. Usually, this kind of thing would've triggered a stream of swearing.)

I had to be driven back from the track with a pack of ice strapped to my foot. And the woman who drove me told me a horrific story about how she had twisted her ankle once and had torn all kinds of ligaments and almost had to have surgery and was in a walking boot for weeks.

Great.

I'm really hoping my injury isn't that bad. My foot is swollen around the anklebone and tender to the touch, but it's not bruising, so maybe it will be OK.

Seriously, I don't even know what to say right now.

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