Today, I had my 14-mile progression run. I was worried, because yesterday's sucked so much. However, I was flying. I had to hold back in order to keep race pace for the first lap. The 7:45 pace was really nice. I had to push myself just enough, and I got to let go. I was feeling like I got my groove back until I started my way from the Lincoln memorial and my stomach lurched. I walked/ran for the next half mile or so, feeling like I just needed to burp a few times.
I started feeling better, and picked up my pace in order to keep this mile at 7:45. This part of the mall is gravel, and I was just thinking on lap one how it probably helps keep my ankles strong. That's when the back of my ankle gave a painful twinge. I slowed down to a jog and within five seconds I realized my lower ankle and shin were starting to numb.
I stopped and started rubbing it, and felt a sharpness when I pinched that ankle. Damn damn damn.... I stretched my calf a little and started walking. It felt fine. I tried jogging. It did not feel fine. I looked longingly at the runners passing me. Why did they get to run?
I tried running once more, and had no luck. I really wanted to do that 7:30 pace lap and instead walked home. I knew that it was better, if I was feeling a sharp pain, to get home and ice it. This makes me feel worse about giving up yesterday. I'm gonna try an easy run after work tomorrow, and just let my ankle rest. I won't start freaking out... yet.
Anyway, this is pretty commonplace for MCM training. Behold, I have a wonderful story from Fall 2007. I was passing the Kennedy Center when my ankle rolled in. This had happened many times, but never quite that bad. It was a sharp pain through my ankle and my foot and I couldn't put any weight on it. As this happened, two couples in their late 70's get out of a car, nicely dressed to go to a show. I hop over to the nearby tree, grasping at my ankle, horrified.
The couples looked on awkwardly and one man asks if I'm alright. I nod. "Are you sure?" I answer yes, and my voice cracks. Its painful, and at the time I'm pretty sure that I'm seriously injured. I can't put any weight at all on it, touching it to the ground hurts. The man comes over and insists that I go to the hospital. The whole group approaches me and here is a great image for you: the two, little, old ladies are at my side, taking my weight and leading me to the car. I'm barely even able to limp. They are shorter than my 5'2", dressed up and white haired. My dorm is about 2 blocks away from the hospital, so I tell them just to drop me off so I can get my insurance info and my friends can take me and they can go to their show.
They were the epitome of adorable elderly people. They park the car, and the old men insist on helping me into the sorority house. I walk in with a group of old men and women who walk me all the way to the couch.
My sisters took care of me, got me ice, one called her doctor of a father and soon the pain faded and I was running fine in a few days. Its always great to know what kind of good people are out there.