Friday,
March 27, 2015
“I haven’t run a step in over a year, Doc. My heal hurts all the time and no
amount of rest is doing anything,” I said. I’d had enough and finally scheduled an appointment with
Mark Mendeszoon. His office had
done the surgery on my knee the previous summer and I had complete faith in
him. Though I’d stayed in shape
without running, it somehow seemed wrong not to do it occasionally. I was, after all, a runner.
“Looks like you could have a slight stress fracture
here…in your heel,” he said, pointing to the x-ray he was holding. “I don’t think that’s the problem,
though. I think it’s soft tissue –
plantar fascia – and I’m going to give you a shot to calm it down. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll go to
‘plan B’.
He warned me the shot wouldn’t have any effect for
about a week and he was more than right.
For the first couple of days it was worse, in fact. And then…no pain. I’d been experiencing foot pain every
day for over a year and so it was quite a surprise to not have it and to not
really notice it was gone. It was
though.
And that was six weeks earlier. I’ve done little in that time and, in
fact, have only trained sporadically since, well, Tour Ohio in the summer of
2013. Often times since then I’ve
told myself I’d get moving again and as often, I stalled out. Yes, I’ve managed to stay in shape from
the physical nature of the work I do and enough exercise to maintain. But it simply isn’t enough and I need it
– more for how it helps me deal with the constant assault of depression that my
life deals me.
Lots of people get divorced and, I suppose, many of
them from people they’ve been with for forty years or more. If they loved their partner and the
life they forged and aren’t depressed when it comes tumbling down, well,
they’re made of different stuff than me.
And I’ve gotten over that, for the most part. There are times when I wander through
my empty house and lament. It
would help if Jack hadn’t gone off to the Army, but he did. It would be good if dating was a
solution, but it only brings along a new set of challenges and then, sometimes
without warning, it all comes crashing down and the depression sets in.
‘Go for a run. Do something physical,’ rings in my mind, but I deflect
these thoughts for the comfort of feeling sorry for myself. There is a certain peace in
self-loathing and, at times, I console myself in this way. Healthy? Not in the least, but I do it and I know I’m doing it and I
guess that’s good, at least.
I drove to the park dressed in my work clothes and
covered in dirt and grease. It was
cold, in the twenties, and although I had shorts in the back seat, elected not
to wear them. This was to be my
maiden voyage and the plan was for ten minutes of running. I slipped off my work boots and into my
running shoes. The work clothes
would become my workout clothes. I
looked a fool, but did I care? Not
really.
I started slowly with no intention of it becoming
anything else. I thought about me
heel as it hit into the bridle trail, semi-soft from yesterday’s rain. My steps were short and light.
I didn’t have a watch, but knew the trail well and
how long it took me to run to Clear Creek, my turn-around. I made it there with little difficulty,
made the turn and headed back to the car.
I knew I was beyond ten minutes, but only by a couple and worried
little. My foot felt fine as I
climbed into the car with the knowledge that I’d need to go home, mount the
trainer and put in an hour on the bike if I was to feel like I’d done
something.
But I had done something. Something really important. I’d taken that first step…again. I hope to report in the near future, like tomorrow, that I’ve
taken a second. As important to my
continuing recovery, I need to write.
It is part of the spiritual and emotional healing I need to do if I am
ever to be whole again. It is a
difficult trail, I know, but one I must take.
Run
duration: 12 minutes. Bike
duration: 60 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 140 running and 120
bpm biking.
Calories
burned during workout: 175 running
and 850 on the bike.
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