I thought that I'd be posting about the results of my first 15k, but that is not the case. I sprained my ankle yesterday, which made it impossible for me to run the race and I am pretty bummed. In fact, right now, I'd be running with B, but she's being a champ without me today.
Just after I turned 28, I busted my tailbone. Remember? The day after I turned 29, I sprained my ankle. Both incidences took place on or due to stairs and my inability to maneuver them. So I either need to avoid stairs in March or be extra, extra careful when I turn 30. I mean 29 for the second time.
I sort of wish that this injury had come with a little bit better story, but something tells me that any explaination would be embarrassing. See, what had happened was...
We got to Body Sculpt at 5:30 a.m., which means it's still pitch black outside. I dropped my stuff off on the little dock thing that we work out on, which is like a boardwalk-type contraption that opens up into a big area out over the lake (more like a pond) at the park. As I went to do my warm up lap, I couldn't see the steps that led back down to the sidewalk and I thought there were only three steps, but there were four.
I'm not sure if I realized mid-stride that I was wrong or what, but I ended up landing on my right foot and my body kept going. That's my best recollection of those quick five seconds anyway. And I was not alone, so two other people witnessed my clumsiness. Fantastic. They were really sweet about it, though. They stood with me while I tried to figure out if I was hurt and how bad it was. I wasn't bleeding and no bones were jutting out of skin, so I was going to survive.
I ended up staying through the class and just did what I could and my ankle just started to get puffier and puffier, but I am hard core, so I wasn't leaving. Ha! Actually, I just did arms and abs. I was already awake, so I figured it'd be silly to bail at that point. I knew that I wouldn't be able to make the race, though. B told me that I shouldn't get crazy and should take a rest day like the training says. I should've listened to her! Had I, I wouldn't be blogging, I'd be in Jacksonville with her right now.
It's still pretty swollen. And I hate having to use crutches. I'd rather crawl around to get where I need to go, but that's out of the question, too, because my left knee got scraped (the kind that's reminiscent of falling off your bike in elementary school). I'm a hot mess. I'm just going to have to take it easy for the next few days. Hopefully I'll be back running in a week or two. Surely it doesn't take forever to recover from a sprained ankle. Does it?
And it least it was now and not any closer to the Marine Corps Marathon. Thank heaven for small favors.
Just after I turned 28, I busted my tailbone. Remember? The day after I turned 29, I sprained my ankle. Both incidences took place on or due to stairs and my inability to maneuver them. So I either need to avoid stairs in March or be extra, extra careful when I turn 30. I mean 29 for the second time.
I sort of wish that this injury had come with a little bit better story, but something tells me that any explaination would be embarrassing. See, what had happened was...
We got to Body Sculpt at 5:30 a.m., which means it's still pitch black outside. I dropped my stuff off on the little dock thing that we work out on, which is like a boardwalk-type contraption that opens up into a big area out over the lake (more like a pond) at the park. As I went to do my warm up lap, I couldn't see the steps that led back down to the sidewalk and I thought there were only three steps, but there were four.
I'm not sure if I realized mid-stride that I was wrong or what, but I ended up landing on my right foot and my body kept going. That's my best recollection of those quick five seconds anyway. And I was not alone, so two other people witnessed my clumsiness. Fantastic. They were really sweet about it, though. They stood with me while I tried to figure out if I was hurt and how bad it was. I wasn't bleeding and no bones were jutting out of skin, so I was going to survive.
I ended up staying through the class and just did what I could and my ankle just started to get puffier and puffier, but I am hard core, so I wasn't leaving. Ha! Actually, I just did arms and abs. I was already awake, so I figured it'd be silly to bail at that point. I knew that I wouldn't be able to make the race, though. B told me that I shouldn't get crazy and should take a rest day like the training says. I should've listened to her! Had I, I wouldn't be blogging, I'd be in Jacksonville with her right now.
It's still pretty swollen. And I hate having to use crutches. I'd rather crawl around to get where I need to go, but that's out of the question, too, because my left knee got scraped (the kind that's reminiscent of falling off your bike in elementary school). I'm a hot mess. I'm just going to have to take it easy for the next few days. Hopefully I'll be back running in a week or two. Surely it doesn't take forever to recover from a sprained ankle. Does it?
And it least it was now and not any closer to the Marine Corps Marathon. Thank heaven for small favors.
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