I got 11K into the run, rolled my ankle, walked it off, started running again, and then rolled it even worse at 13K, so I pulled the plug.
The girl huddled in a volunteer’s hoodie and a plastic rain poncho, foot propped up on a rock, simultaneously crying and cheering before Run Aid Station 1? Hi, that was me.
Because even though you go into a race injured and knowing a DNF is possible, it still feels disappointing. And I am so incredibly tired of the seemingly stupid injuries that have plagued me all season.
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| Med tent adventures |
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This is the chart I made leading up to the race, when I was waiting for my MRI results and trying to figure out my options.
I guess I’m at the “Heal 100%” box right now. I don’t know what’s next. I’m trying to take it one day at a time, but it’s hard. I feel like I need redemption, that surge of emotion that comes with crossing a finish line.
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The race doctor thought I might have a fracture, so Big Ginger drove me to the emergency room at Victoria General Hospital for an x-ray. I was still in spandex. I needed a shower.
Thankfully, nothing was broken. However, I spent a few days on crutches. And Big Ginger pushed me around the Butchart Gardens in a wheelchair. (Every time he let go of the chair, I'd yell, "I'm escaping!" and wheel myself away as fast as possible. I'm sure this game was really fun for him.)
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I have a brace on now. My ankle is still swollen, but it’s getting better. The bruising is going away. Yesterday I rode my commuter bike (hooray for flat pedals) and felt fine.
Fingers crossed.
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