WEATHER: Unseasonably warm.
MILES: A few. Sort of.
MILES THIS WEEK: A few. Sort of.
WHERE TO: Wandering aimlessly and listlessly in the vast and lonesome desert that the injured runner trods, dragging my gimpy foot behind me as I wail to the heavens in agony.
MOOD: Improving. Which isn’t saying much.
My dear readers, it has been too long. And so the blog makes it TRIUMPHANT EFFING RETURN with a new and informative topic:
HOW TO DEAL WITH AN INJURY. Allll 12 stages.
So. Put on yer ass-kicking boots and grab a juicebox and a Percocet and a girly mag. It’s gonna be a wild ride.
So over recent weeks/months, I have experienced a steady progression of painful running pains. I won’t bore you with details of how the injuries happened, except to tell you the key occurrences:
1) I hurt my right knee.
2) In what I now understand to be a severely misguided and overly hopeful move, I bought the Vibram five-finger shoes.
3) I overdid the rum at a house party.
4) I woke up the next morning and wondered why the toilet seat was broken and where my glasses were and who are these people on my futon, goddammit?
4.5) Giving up on the glasses and toilet seat, I contented myself by spooning all up on the goddamn people on my futon. (After all, when life hands you
lemons hung-over futon people…)
5) I ran in the toe shoes.
5.5) And was characteristically overzealous.
6) Ironically enough, the maaaagical injury-preventing shoes gave me a stress fracture. Fourth bone, left foot.
So I was off the running for a good long while, trying to tire myself out via non-running, non-rum-binge means. And I have been back for a week, having successfully broken the spirit of the injury monster. And now I explain how to combat the 12 stages of injury.
Stage One: Admitting You Have a Problem
Are you in injury-denial? Perhaps you don’t know. Well, screw WebMD. This’ll be way more fun and won’t make you all hypochondriac or convince you along the way that you have schizophrenolupustumors.
Are you in injury denial? Take the following helpful quiz:
1. Are you running persistently, despite a persistent, nagging sense that someone is stabbing you in the foot/knee/hip/ankle?
2. Is your pride getting the better of you? Or, put another way: do you find yourself limping along on your morning run, struggling along valiantly, then getting passed by some blonde Georgetown-residing gazelle only with D-cups and a happy, perky, bouncy ponytail that is (unlike yours) NOT showering passersby with quarts of perspiration-and-yesterday’s-mousse? And then do you sort of freak out internally, deciding that THIS WOMAN MUST BE TAKEN DOWN A FEW NOTCHES so then despite the fact that she is clearly running 5:30 miles and you are clearly dragging your twisted/mangled/gangrenous right leg at a non-5:30 pace do you break into a dead sprint and scream, “COME BACK HERE! I WANT TO BREAK YOUR SPIRIT! HEY WHERE YOU GOING?”?
Don’t look at me like that. Just answer the question.
3. Are you considering buying Vibram Five-Finger shoes?
4. Are you persistently in a state of self-diagnosis? Are you constantly fiddling with the injured area — while standing, while sitting, while eating, while sleeping, while baking, while in important meetings — trying to bend the hurt limb/put weight onto the injured bone/configure your body in exaaaactly the right position in which to feel the pain and thus diagnose it? Are you hopping up and down on one foot and wincing during your annual performance review? Are you flopping your ankle around shamelessly while trying to put the moves on that dreamy, Nabokov-reading stunner who is always next to you on the G2 every morning? Are you freaking him out? Is he sidling away? Good God. Get a grip on yourself, girrrrrrl.
5. No, seriously. Are you considering buying Vibrams? Really? Did Christopher Mc”WomenSuck“Dougall get to you? Are you convinced that you will put them on and then your injury will magically disappear, along with that mole on your back, and also your dreams will allll come true, including that one about triumphantly winning the doubles-skating gold medal with Nancy Kerrigan (but hopefully not that one involving Oprah and the chainsaw and the raptor and the Green Bay Packer defensive line)?
6. Are you stress-eating entire pints of guac in one sitting?
7. Are you also rubbing the guac on your belly, just because it kind of feels good?
8. OK, really: is there swelling?
9. Or discoloration?
10. Or…you know…pain?
11. Awwwww, don’t cry. Here. Do you want me to hold you?
If you can answer “yes” to 6 or more of the above questions…well, first off, you really should let me hold you.
But you are also probably injured.
See? That wasn’t so bad. Sit down, get an ice pack, let the dog lick the guac off your stomach, and settle in for the next 11 steps of recovery. Friend, it is SO ON, and you are going to beat this. Or you’re going to sit there and go to Netflix and watch 3 seasons of “Xena.” Or both.
IT IS SO ON. Blammo!
<Stay tuned for Step 2:
Seeking Help From Your Higher Power Not-Strangling All Those Happy Runners on the Street>