LONG sad story of my foot

For those of you who read this blog to see darling pictures of my kids and embarrasing pictures of me- feel free to skip this post and tune back in when there are some pictures of the kiddos.

This is the story of my injured foot:

Right when I moved to Texas I met two girls who asked me to run a half marathon with them. My first thoughts were "No way!" I didn't think I could, and honestly didn't know if I even had the desire to run that far. But it got me thinking about running again- which is something that I haven't done that consistently since popping out my babies.

So I started running. Our ward had a 5k- and it was SO FUN. I was still uncommitted to the half marathon, but I started running a lot more consistently.

I ran all summer. 4-5 days a week. I was waking up at 4:30 am most days to get my run in. Even earlier than that when I started wanting to do longer and longer runs. It was early, but I was getting addicted to the endorphins. Plus running early was the only way to escape some of the heat. Don't get me wrong, it was still hot. My Nike+ app that I use for my runs, lets you keep a little running journal- and you better believe I write at least something in it every time I run. Looking back- almost every day I said something about how stinking hot it was.

But I powered on. I did a few longer runs... still thinking that maybe I could do this half marathon thing that was at the end of October. I started checking back with this group of girls that originally asked me to run it, and no one was doing it anymore. And it was about that time that I started believe that I actually COULD do it. And if I'm being honest with myself- the first time someone asked me to run the half marathon I had known that I was going to do it.

I found a group of ladies to run with: The Sole Sisters. Funny, I know. They are all older, but live around where I do and run consistently together. They also are always flying all over the country to run Ragnar relay races together (and drink lots of wine). It has been so nice to have people to run with. It rejuvenated my runs and I felt like a better runner while running with them.

Fast forward a few weeks: I decided to run a half marathon that was a lot closer to where I live. Since those other girls from church were no longer running the original one, I thought why drive so far to run by myself? Plus, I found a race that was a lot closer to home- the only problem was that it was a month sooner. But no problem! I'd been running all summer and building up my miles- I knew I could do it. And a shout out to Dave- who has told me all along to run the half marathon. I think he knew before I did that I REALLY wanted to do it. And has been 100% supportive.

Two weeks ago I put in a lot of miles. Not tons, but a lot for me. I ran a total of 30 miles. And the last 2 miles of that is when my left foot started hurting. The pain is on my left foot- outside bottom edge. It didn't even hurt bad enough to stop running. I honestly didn't think much of it. I knew my whole body was fatigued just from the bump up of miles that week. Two hours after my run, I couldn't stand on my left foot. I could stand on my toes, but any pressure on the mid part of my foot hurt really bad. I started icing and elevating and taking ibuprofen.

As soon as my sweet friend, Megan heard about my foot she messaged me asking where it hurt and giving me tips of what I could do for the pain and things I could do to stretch and strengthen my foot. I did those things diligently. I took days off running. Then after a few days I decided to try it out. The pain was not gone, but considerably better. I met up with the Sole Sisters and ran with them half way to the track before heading home. That was a bad day. I only ran 1.25 miles- and my foot HURT. Reality of missing my race was setting in. I cried. A lot. I felt ticked off, disappointed, and frustrated that I was in pain. I felt so discouraged that I had woken up at 4:30 all summer to train and now I wouldn't even be able to accomplish my goal.

I KNOW there are other races. I know I will get better. But those facts didn't help my initial dissappointment of probably missing this race. I think a lot of it - is that I feel like I need to prove to myself that I actually can do it. And I feel like I've earned it with how hard I've worked.

So yesterday morning I decided to try again. I basically took all of last week off (other than the mile I ran on Wednesday). The first 1/2 mile of my run was excruciating. I stopped and stretched and tried to figure out the quickest way to hobble home. I started to lightly jog back home and the pain loosened up a little bit. I ended up running 5 miles. That first 1/2 mile of pain was a good eye opener. It hurt bad. But it helped me decide to call the physical therapist that one of the Sole Sisters had recommended.

And you know what? I HATE PEOPLE TOUCHING MY FEET! This is going to be hard for me. I DON'T get pedicures. When I get a massage, I don't let them do my feet. Ugh. It's gross. It's just how I am. So for me to schedule an appointment for someone to look at and touch my feet at my own free will is hard. My appointment is this afternoon.

Ever have a charley horse? That's what the bottom of my foot feels like most of the time. Wish me luck. My hope is that they'll fix me and I can run on Saturday. Wishful thinking? Maybe. ;)