I went to the pool again yesterday. After feeling like a fish that had been out of water too long on Thursday, this felt like the swim I had been waiting for the last three and a half weeks. My underlying anxiety about my heel in the pool has abated and my incision is looking more healed every day. I swam in the sunshine in an uncrowded pool in early February. It was enough to forgive Florida all its other faults.
Husband and the puppy have been back but leave again tomorrow. We’ve had a pretty low key weekend with a few short trips out. The more we do the more I’m dying to get back to being able to walk. Everything is such a procedure to get around. I know some people start partial weight bearing at four weeks which would be next Wednesday for me but I haven’t really been able to get a definite time frame out of my doctor. I’ve made such good linear progress so far I’m not about to do anything to screw that up before my next appointment but I would love to have an actual date on the calendar I can count down to.
Facebook reminded me today that I posted this photo a year ago.
This was the last race I ran. My heel had started bothering me a few days prior and I had serious second thoughts about doing the race. Racing on an injury, even a slight one, is a recipe for disaster but in this particular situation I’m glad I did it. It was a 10K which is my favorite distance. You have to run really hard in a 10K. There are no easy early miles like there are in a half marathon or a marathon yet it’s not quite the unholy sufferfest that the 5K is. The 10K rewards a big aerobic engine and the ability to focus rather than innate leg speed. Although it’s the distance I think I’m best at, I felt like my recent race times didn’t reflect what I was capable of and I just wanted one last shot at a better time before the end of the winter. Other than the heel, I was in great shape after months of averaging 50 miles a week and consistently strength training. The weather was warmer than ideal for a fast time and I didn’t feel great during my warm up, but I went out prepared to give it my all. After the second mile I found myself in no man’s land with no one nearby to pace off. The effort became absolutely excruciating by the last mile and then I got out kicked right at the finish line by two women I had passed with 800m to go. It was however one of those rare days when I paced my effort perfectly and ran as hard and as well as I possibly could. I ran a personal best by over a minute and won my age group in the process. I look so happy in that photo because it was everything I wanted it to be and then some. It’s hard to think I will be able to get back to that level again even if all goes perfectly with my recovery as age is not on my side here, so I’m glad I didn’t waste the opportunity and sit that day out. Once in a while the less sensible decision is the right one. Good memories.