Saw the podiatrist yesterday, and while he is happy with my progress I must say I am not. Nine weeks after surgery, I still have not received clearance to do anything of high impact. This bothers me, because I had thought when he said "eight weeks" it meant I could run again after eight weeks; turns out, it's that I can walk again. Running is still out of the question.
He says the x-rays look great, that when he used to perform the same surgery and didn't connect the bones with a plate, it was four months in a cast. I was out of a cast at four weeks. Yeah, yeah; yada, yada. Not what I wanted to hear regardless.
Now, I have great faith in this doctor. He knows exactly what I want to do with my feet, and he respects that. So I know he is only telling me the right thing, but that doesn't mean I have to like it (insert whine here).
Naturally, upon hearing the news, I did what every triathlete does--I cried a little and then looked at the calendar, working backwards from my A race (in this case Ironman 70.3 Steelhead on Aug. 19) to make sure I would have enough time to train. The training plans I have perused say it takes 20 weeks to train sufficiently for that distance--1.2-mile swim; 56-mile bike; 13.1-mile run. So that puts me at April 1 to really get down to work.
So, with the doctor saying the normal recovery time from this type of surgery is 4-6 months, that means in February, at the earliest, I can start running again. I know I can do the training; that's not the part I'm bummed about.
It's that I can't take a run for another six weeks, and that I feel my quads turning to flab with every run missed. Until I can start with the 2-mile walk/runs, I will work on my swimming (and that should put me ahead when training really starts). I've gotten in four 500-meter swims in the last two weeks, and I intend to ramp that up after Christmas.
I continue with physical therapy, and that's going well--he has me biking for 12 minutes (recumbent bike) and working on calf strength. What's lacking still is flexibility in the big toe, and I have a feeling that will return when I'm cleared to run!
More than running (but not much more).
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Let's Get Physical
I had my first physical therapy session yesterday afternoon, and while it felt uncomfortable at times, it was wonderful watching the blood rush to my foot; it meant progress was being made!
Eric at Carey & Daley measured the flexion angle of my big toe, which is not even near where it needs to be for effective running. But, hey, I was there, which means I'm yet another day closer to getting back doing what my body is craving.
I have to admit I haven't been a very nice patient lately--my days consist of sitting in the shower, driving to work, sitting at work, driving home or to the store (where I sit on a scooter), standing for 30 minutes or so while preparing and/or cleaning up after dinner), sitting some more and then lying down for 8 hours. Not exactly a prescription for good health.
The incredibly warm November we had didn't help my mood either. No cyclist wants to let 60-degree days pass them by when the late-year temperature usually hovers around 40. I go to the garage and gaze at my bike and then go back inside, only to sit some more.
I have been doing upper body weight work and trying to maintain my core strong, and that's something, though I'm sure the kids think I look ridiculous with my Herman Munster boot on one foot, a workout shoe on the other.
I found the date for next year's Mid-Winter Blues Run at Beaver Lake (Feb. 5). Believe me, if I can even walk that 3.1 miles I won't be feeling the blues at all! Until then, I'm looking at twice-weekly PT sessions, when I will work on flexibility and strength in the toes and ankle, Eric will massage out the edema and then he'll hook my foot up to an electro-charge machine (or whatever it's called), to send stimuli directly to the tissue to hasten healing.
I must admit the foot is sore today, but it's a "good" sore, similar to what you feel after a race run hard. And that's the best I can do right now.
Eric at Carey & Daley measured the flexion angle of my big toe, which is not even near where it needs to be for effective running. But, hey, I was there, which means I'm yet another day closer to getting back doing what my body is craving.
I have to admit I haven't been a very nice patient lately--my days consist of sitting in the shower, driving to work, sitting at work, driving home or to the store (where I sit on a scooter), standing for 30 minutes or so while preparing and/or cleaning up after dinner), sitting some more and then lying down for 8 hours. Not exactly a prescription for good health.
The incredibly warm November we had didn't help my mood either. No cyclist wants to let 60-degree days pass them by when the late-year temperature usually hovers around 40. I go to the garage and gaze at my bike and then go back inside, only to sit some more.
I have been doing upper body weight work and trying to maintain my core strong, and that's something, though I'm sure the kids think I look ridiculous with my Herman Munster boot on one foot, a workout shoe on the other.
I found the date for next year's Mid-Winter Blues Run at Beaver Lake (Feb. 5). Believe me, if I can even walk that 3.1 miles I won't be feeling the blues at all! Until then, I'm looking at twice-weekly PT sessions, when I will work on flexibility and strength in the toes and ankle, Eric will massage out the edema and then he'll hook my foot up to an electro-charge machine (or whatever it's called), to send stimuli directly to the tissue to hasten healing.
I must admit the foot is sore today, but it's a "good" sore, similar to what you feel after a race run hard. And that's the best I can do right now.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Change of Pace
I have always been in awe of my best friend, Melinda Whittin Group, because from 10th grade, she knew what career path she wanted to pursue--pharmacy. And more than 30 years later, she still works as a pharmacist. It's just something I was never able to figure out in high school, or for the first two years of college.
I remember my father saying once that a lot of people don't know what they want to do until they're 39. And the piece of advice I give my children (and step-children) regarding their careers is to be sure you choose what you love, because you have to get up and go to work every day.
Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE my job. I have always had a knack for reading, writing, grammar and spelling. I'm a good problem-solver; I like to plan issues 6-10 weeks out at a time.
At the same time, I have always been athletic, always been active, always wondered if I should have chosen to be a gym teacher. Well, that's not going to happen at my age (and with children in college and yet to go to college), so I'm considering the next best thing: getting certified to be a personal trainer.
It would be especially satisfying working with women older than 40, since that is really when my athletic "career" began. In my 20s I ran races, and in my 20s I started lifting weights, but the two were more recreational. I also taught some aerobics classes. After continuing to work out at home in my 30s when my children were young, I began really running again at age 42, when the kids were old enough to be on their own while I left the house for an hour, then two, and then three (during marathon training). And that's when I discovered that not only do I love to run, I more enjoy competing (especially because I'm pretty good at it).
So, with the realization that it's never too late to chase a dream, and to mine an aspect of your life that you currently do only for yourself, I'm seriously thinking about signing up for this certification.
And once I establish myself as a personal trainer, or fitness instructor, or lifestyle coach, it doesn't have to supplant my other career choice: editor of the most awesome weekly newspaper I know. And I could be making a visible difference in someone's life--helping her meet her potential, whether it's through weight loss, running a 5K or improving overall health. And that would be cool indeed!
I remember my father saying once that a lot of people don't know what they want to do until they're 39. And the piece of advice I give my children (and step-children) regarding their careers is to be sure you choose what you love, because you have to get up and go to work every day.
Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE my job. I have always had a knack for reading, writing, grammar and spelling. I'm a good problem-solver; I like to plan issues 6-10 weeks out at a time.
At the same time, I have always been athletic, always been active, always wondered if I should have chosen to be a gym teacher. Well, that's not going to happen at my age (and with children in college and yet to go to college), so I'm considering the next best thing: getting certified to be a personal trainer.
It would be especially satisfying working with women older than 40, since that is really when my athletic "career" began. In my 20s I ran races, and in my 20s I started lifting weights, but the two were more recreational. I also taught some aerobics classes. After continuing to work out at home in my 30s when my children were young, I began really running again at age 42, when the kids were old enough to be on their own while I left the house for an hour, then two, and then three (during marathon training). And that's when I discovered that not only do I love to run, I more enjoy competing (especially because I'm pretty good at it).
So, with the realization that it's never too late to chase a dream, and to mine an aspect of your life that you currently do only for yourself, I'm seriously thinking about signing up for this certification.
And once I establish myself as a personal trainer, or fitness instructor, or lifestyle coach, it doesn't have to supplant my other career choice: editor of the most awesome weekly newspaper I know. And I could be making a visible difference in someone's life--helping her meet her potential, whether it's through weight loss, running a 5K or improving overall health. And that would be cool indeed!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Four-Hour Energy
After a substantial hiatus from long-distance racing, I registered for the Empire State Marathon, scheduled for Oct. 21, 2012. This will be my third marathon, but the first with wisdom and the experience gained from two previous attempts.
Many of us, I'm sure, decide to race those 26.2 miles with the goal of qualifying for the storied Boston Marathon. That's a laudable goal for sure, and many of my friend have succeeded at it, multiple times. Alas, I am not one of the lucky ones.
My first marathon experience, Mohawk-Hudson, in 2006, was an exercise in reality (I won't say futility because I did finish, albeit a good 26 minutes off my goal). First marathons teach us a lot about ourselves, our preparation (or lack thereof), our nutrition (or lack thereof), and what we can do better the next time. Turns out, quite a bit.
During the grinding 16-week training regimen I topped out at a long run of 20 miles. I made reservations at the official race hotel, and the literature had said it would be open before the race for breakfast. NOT!
A table with bananas was all I saw, and I nearly stole one I was so desperate for some sort of fuel, but I relented and paid the usurious price of $1.50 for one stinking banana. Thus "fueled," I boarded the bus to the starting line in Schenectady, and prayed for the best.
All went well until mile 17, when the meager nutrients from the banana (and whatever I had eaten the day before) had been depleted and my 8:30 pace fell off a cliff.
So, armed with what I had learned from Marathon No. 1, I began the training cycle in 2007 for the Indianapolis Marathon. My long run that time topped out at 23, and I ordered a pace tattoo, which helps you track where you need to be timewise at each mile. A bonus was that my sister lives in Indy, so it was a built-in vacation. Will and I drove out, I slept like a rock the night before, got up and ate and ate and ate (advantages of staying with a family member). It was an absolutely gorgeous day and I felt great, too great, it turns out. My pace was way too fast for the first half (8-minute miles). My sister Jodie warned me I was ahead of pace, so I tried to slow down, really, I did. Well, at mile 18 I had no choice. I thought I had left that wall in suburban Albany!
Still, I was running so strong up until that point that with a mile to go, I had 7 minutes in which to qualify for Boston. Yeah, right. I finished well, but at 4:03:24, thereby missing Boston by. . . oh, I'd rather not think about it.
Then a series of injuries convinced me to back off the marathons, until this year, that is. With two foot surgeries behind me, an answer for and way to manage a nagging hamstring, and the realization that I likely won't qualify for Boston--and who cares if I don't?--I find myself facing another 26.2 miles.
I have nearly 11 months to train for it, tons of support all around (from family, to running buddies, to co-workers), and the beauty of having to drive 10 minutes (instead of 10 hours) to the starting line on race day.
I'll report on my progress, which will be gradual, as the calendar unfolds. And I can't wait to get going!
Many of us, I'm sure, decide to race those 26.2 miles with the goal of qualifying for the storied Boston Marathon. That's a laudable goal for sure, and many of my friend have succeeded at it, multiple times. Alas, I am not one of the lucky ones.
My first marathon experience, Mohawk-Hudson, in 2006, was an exercise in reality (I won't say futility because I did finish, albeit a good 26 minutes off my goal). First marathons teach us a lot about ourselves, our preparation (or lack thereof), our nutrition (or lack thereof), and what we can do better the next time. Turns out, quite a bit.
During the grinding 16-week training regimen I topped out at a long run of 20 miles. I made reservations at the official race hotel, and the literature had said it would be open before the race for breakfast. NOT!
A table with bananas was all I saw, and I nearly stole one I was so desperate for some sort of fuel, but I relented and paid the usurious price of $1.50 for one stinking banana. Thus "fueled," I boarded the bus to the starting line in Schenectady, and prayed for the best.
All went well until mile 17, when the meager nutrients from the banana (and whatever I had eaten the day before) had been depleted and my 8:30 pace fell off a cliff.
So, armed with what I had learned from Marathon No. 1, I began the training cycle in 2007 for the Indianapolis Marathon. My long run that time topped out at 23, and I ordered a pace tattoo, which helps you track where you need to be timewise at each mile. A bonus was that my sister lives in Indy, so it was a built-in vacation. Will and I drove out, I slept like a rock the night before, got up and ate and ate and ate (advantages of staying with a family member). It was an absolutely gorgeous day and I felt great, too great, it turns out. My pace was way too fast for the first half (8-minute miles). My sister Jodie warned me I was ahead of pace, so I tried to slow down, really, I did. Well, at mile 18 I had no choice. I thought I had left that wall in suburban Albany!
Still, I was running so strong up until that point that with a mile to go, I had 7 minutes in which to qualify for Boston. Yeah, right. I finished well, but at 4:03:24, thereby missing Boston by. . . oh, I'd rather not think about it.
Then a series of injuries convinced me to back off the marathons, until this year, that is. With two foot surgeries behind me, an answer for and way to manage a nagging hamstring, and the realization that I likely won't qualify for Boston--and who cares if I don't?--I find myself facing another 26.2 miles.
I have nearly 11 months to train for it, tons of support all around (from family, to running buddies, to co-workers), and the beauty of having to drive 10 minutes (instead of 10 hours) to the starting line on race day.
I'll report on my progress, which will be gradual, as the calendar unfolds. And I can't wait to get going!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Progress Edition
After my right foot surgery of last December, I wrote down nothing, which means I remember very little. Not to detail every gory moment here, but I want to let folks who may be contemplating the same surgery--bunionectomy--to stop thinking about it, stop being scared about it, and get it done! A few months of no activity traded for years of no pain while running--it's a bargain I have been willing to make, twice.
It's been exactly two weeks. By day 10 I was off the Percocet. I was a bit shocked that the doctor prescribed 50--in fact, that scared me a little because last year I think (remember, I didn't write it down), he gave me a mere 30, and I used them all. Anyway, the intense pain subsided after 30 hours, just like last time, but occasional twinges made it difficult to sleep.
I returned to work Monday, Oct. 31, and came home exhausted but it was so much better than sitting around the house.
Everyone knows I'm an active person, at least when I'm not on crutches. It's been tough, though I will admit to doing upper body work every other day the last few weeks. I don't want that core going soft!
On Tuesday, day 12, the doc removed the stitches, and I was able to wash my foot--such a mundane pleasure! It's tough bathing and not getting an entire limb wet. He put me in a Herman Munster boot--heavy metal base, six strips of Velcro--and though he called it walking boot he doesn't want me walking for two more weeks. At least it comes off so I can sleep relatively comfortably. And he wants me wiggling my toes--especially the big toe which bore the brunt of the surgery. It's quite stiff and looks to me like an overcooked knockwurst.
I see him again in three weeks for X-rays and an assessment of how well the bones have healed. Maybe I can swim the Friday after Thanksgiving??? We'll see.
I have already signed up for a 70.3 half ironman in August and am hopeful I can race the Bluegrass Ramble, a half marathon in Madrid, NY, in late June.
It's been exactly two weeks. By day 10 I was off the Percocet. I was a bit shocked that the doctor prescribed 50--in fact, that scared me a little because last year I think (remember, I didn't write it down), he gave me a mere 30, and I used them all. Anyway, the intense pain subsided after 30 hours, just like last time, but occasional twinges made it difficult to sleep.
I returned to work Monday, Oct. 31, and came home exhausted but it was so much better than sitting around the house.
Everyone knows I'm an active person, at least when I'm not on crutches. It's been tough, though I will admit to doing upper body work every other day the last few weeks. I don't want that core going soft!
On Tuesday, day 12, the doc removed the stitches, and I was able to wash my foot--such a mundane pleasure! It's tough bathing and not getting an entire limb wet. He put me in a Herman Munster boot--heavy metal base, six strips of Velcro--and though he called it walking boot he doesn't want me walking for two more weeks. At least it comes off so I can sleep relatively comfortably. And he wants me wiggling my toes--especially the big toe which bore the brunt of the surgery. It's quite stiff and looks to me like an overcooked knockwurst.
I see him again in three weeks for X-rays and an assessment of how well the bones have healed. Maybe I can swim the Friday after Thanksgiving??? We'll see.
I have already signed up for a 70.3 half ironman in August and am hopeful I can race the Bluegrass Ramble, a half marathon in Madrid, NY, in late June.
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