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Dec 8, 2014

Thanksgiving Day Race Fail

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I realized I left everyone hanging about the outcome of my foot. My orthopedic doctor suggested an MRI to determine the cause of the pain on the outside edge of my foot, wanting to rule out a stress fracture of the fifth metatarsal. The good news is that there was no sign of any fractures. The bones looked healthy and strong. He said there wasn’t a lot of fluid or anything indicating a severe tendonitis, either, but that it’s still possible to have tendonitis without the swelling and fluid.

So the recommendation was that I wear the boot for another 2-3 weeks and do physical therapy twice a week. This meant missing out on the Hot Chocolate 5k that I was registered for, and it put the Flying Feather 4 mile race on Thanksgiving Day in jeopardy.

I just wanted to run again.

I called the physical therapist and set up twice a week appointments. The therapist found that my right foot didn’t have as much dorsiflexion as it should, and my right hip was really weak. He provided me with a list of exercises to complete at home, with a more rigorous set that I was assigned in the office.

I did my exercises without complaint, applied ice to my foot twice a day, and took my anti-inflammatories on schedule, focused on the end goal of running again. Anything that gets me closer to running again is a priority for me.

After a solid week in the boot, I was allowed to go without it for short bouts of walking. So walking around the house was fine. Going out to check the mail was okay. My foot felt better, probably because I wasn’t giving it a chance to flare up again most of the time. When it did start to hurt, I stopped and rested it.

By the second week, I wasn’t feeling any pain. I was given permission to go for longer stretches without the boot, told to keep it nearby and put it on if my foot began to hurt. I managed to walk around IKEA without it hurting, giving me confidence that the end was in sight. IKEA is not a small amount of walking – if I could walk around the store for an hour and a half, I could probably do anything else.

I still wanting to do the Flying Feather 4 mile race, though. Two days before the race, I was given permission by my physical therapist to do the race, but only if I walked it. I asked if I could try a couple of short run intervals (under a minute each), and he said I could try two, but only if I stopped immediately if it hurt to run. I agreed to these terms, since I had been walking without pain for days. I was sure it would be a breeze.

On Thanksgiving Day, I had second thoughts about the race. Not because of my foot, but because it was 28 degrees outside, with a strong wind, and it was starting to snow. I was determined to not let another race I was registered for slip past me, though, so I suited up in layers (finishing with a SparkleSkirt, of course) and stretched and stretched and stretched ahead of time, as ordered.

Flying Feather Four MilerNotice the gloves. I could have used two pairs, really.

When the race started, I wanted to take off in a run and never look back. But I walked for the first stretch until the crowd thinned out. I didn’t want to waste one run interval stuck in a pack of people shuffling along.

Near the back of the packIt was a little crowded at first.

Once I found a clearing, I started a slow jog. It was awesome! I was carefully controlling my speed, but it felt like I was gliding gracefully through the air with pixie dust trailing behind me. I’m sure I didn’t look like that – more like plodding along – but in my head I felt like a gazelle. It had been a month since my last attempt at running.

I switched back to a walk in under a minute – no need to force me there, since I was out of shape with cardio. There was no pain, everything felt good, and I continued on.

When I reached the first mile, I was thrilled to still have no pain. At mile two I mentally cheered that my feet weren’t failing me. I was doing this. I beat this tendonitis and could get back to my training.

And then half a mile later, I felt the first little shooting pain.

That little pain soon called in its friends, and by the time I reached mile 3, I couldn’t ignore the sharp stabbing with each step. But I was also way out on the course – with only a mile left, I didn’t want to be THAT person and ask the race staff to find someone to drive me to the end because all this walking had worn me out. I slowed my walking down and focused on the end goal.

During the last mile, I did have moments where it didn’t hurt. I’m guessing my feet were just numb from the cold and the effort. But just when I wondered if the pain was gone, it would come back. I was happy to cross the finish line and get my medal (and wine), but the smile was masking the pain I was experiencing.

Smile and wincesmiling thru the agony (and snow in my eyes)

I was utterly defeated realizing how much my foot was hurting again. After a month off, nothing had really changed, it hurt just as much as before, and I was left wondering how long it will take to get better. I spent Thanksgiving dinner limping around my aunt’s house, and applying ice to my foot.

My physical therapist was not happy with me for not stopping when the pain started. No surprise there, and I’ll agree I was a stubborn fool with that. But last Monday I also had a follow-up appointment with my orthopedic doctor. I described the entire experience to him, he looked at my foot again, poked around a little…and then determined that I needed to see someone else.

He’s sending me to the top foot specialist in their practice tomorrow. He knows my running goals, and said he doesn’t want to treat it conservatively again for another 4-6 weeks to then risk the injury coming right back again. The X-rays and MRI didn’t show anything significant, which makes it more of a puzzle, so he wants their top foot doc to have a look and diagnose the old-fashioned way: by physical exam. Apparently for many unusual foot injuries, an extensive physical exam is the best (and only, in some cases) way to get to the source of the problem when it’s done by someone with advanced training.

Then came the next surprise: no more boot, and keep walking on it all I want. In order for the new doctor to have the best chance at determining the problem, I have to still be in pain. Resting it makes it feel better – as evidenced by weeks of it feeling great when I was babying it – so I need to make sure it still hurts when I see him on Tuesday. This made traveling to BlogHerPRO last week much easier without a boot to bring along, but I still didn’t enjoy hobbling down the hallways.

I really just want to run again. The Enchanted 10K at Walt Disney World is two and a half months away, and I want to be ready for it. I even have an amazing running costume being made for me that I want to wear for this race.

I’m hoping for a solid answer and an aggressive treatment plan tomorrow so that I can get back to training as soon as possible.

Filed Under: me me me, ow, running ·


Jan 27, 2012

My Muscle Memory Has Dementia

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This week I decided to go back to the boot camp classes I did last year. I had been going fairly regularly until August, and then let my membership lapse. But a great price on a New Year’s deal along with a strong desire to make this THE year I get it right led me to sign up again. After all, I had great results last year and I already feel comfortable with the routine of that gym.

I expected to be a little out of practice. I knew that having a few months off would mean I couldn’t perform the way I did when I was going to classes regularly. But I also was confident that it couldn’t be all that bad – my weight is still as low as when I stopped going, so there’s no way it could be as hard as when I started at the beginning of last year and was 14 pounds heavier.

Ha.

Ha ha ha.

I had my first boot camp class last night. The results were embarrassing. I started off fine with the rest of the class, staying in time with everyone as the music shook the room and the trainer barked out instructions. Five minutes in, I felt a little winded, but took a few deep breaths and pushed past it. Ten minutes in and I needed my first sip of Gatorade.

I quickly realized I was having trouble. Twenty minutes in, I felt weak, I could barely catch my breath, and my stomach was queasy. I finally sat down on the step for a moment. The trainer (someone I worked with a lot last year), just smiled and said, “You’re fine – you’re just getting back into it!” I didn’t feel fine, particularly when the others in the class weren’t stopping while I was parked on my step.

Finishing one small bottle of Gatorade, I stood up and was determined to still finish the class. I got back into the routine with everyone, but that sick feeling wouldn’t go away. I had to take another short break near the end of class. I don’t think I took a single break during my first class last year.

When it was over, I remained in the room for a few minutes extra, willing myself not to vomit while making deals with my legs to just get me to the lobby and then I’d let them rest again. In the lobby, I sat for another 15 minutes. Anytime I tried to get up, I felt lightheaded and queasy. I eventually got the strength to get up and go home.

So…yeah. Never expected the first class would be such a failure. I expected my body would be a little rusty with the whole boot camp regimen, but had hoped it might soon remember all it had accomplished just a short time ago. So much for that muscle memory theory.

I’m discouraged, but not defeated. Yes, I expected my first class to go better than that, but I still went to class and did as much as I could. Maybe I’ll be able to do a little more the next class. And a little more the next one.

No pain, no gain, right?

Edited to add: And then I realized after writing this that I had a sore throat. Turns out I have strep throat and an ear infection. So maybe I’m not quite as weak as I thought, but just fighting off illness.

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Jun 17, 2011

When Workouts Attack

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Now that my daughters are in summer camp, I have a little more flexibility in my schedule each day. As a result, I decided to try going to my strength training bootcamp class in the late afternoon rather than the evening yesterday. I know so many people who say that working out in the morning is the best for them, and well, late afternoon is the third-shift worker’s “morning” so it sounded like a good plan.

It wasn’t a good plan. OK, that’s not quite fair – it’s possible that working out at that time of the day is fine, but for whatever reason, yesterday did not work at all.

I ate a small meal with a glass of water an hour before my workout, just like I always do, and when I arrived at the gym I didn’t feel any different than normal. I signed in and began stretching, realizing I was a little tired but ready to get moving.

Class started and I made the decision to not push myself too hard. It’s been a busy week, so I used the 9lb hand weights instead of the 12lb ones. The first circuit was mostly lower body moves – I’ve got strong legs, so I had no reason to expect any difficulty. Jump squats, followed by twisting lunges, and then a wall sit (holding a 10lb weight for all of this) made up this circuit.

When we repeated the circuit, I found my balance was really off for the lunges: each time I lunged and twisted my upper body, it took a lot of effort to not fall over. I tried to slightly widen my stance, but still occasionally tipped over to the side and had to grab the wall for support. Balance has never been my strength, so I didn’t think anything of it.

During the second wall sit, though, I started to realize this was not going to be a good day. A wall sit usually doesn’t bother me. Sure, it burns, but nothing out of the ordinary. This time, my legs were practically vibrating with shaking as I tried to look at the TV on the wall and distract myself.

I took a few large sips from my Gatorade and tried to shake it off. I made it through the next circuit of moves (sumo squats, hip flexors, and dead lifts with bicep curls) twice, and while I was sweating hard, I didn’t feel that bad.

It was the next two circuits where something went wrong. At the end of the third circuit, I started to feel fuzzy-headed and a little sick to my stomach. I kept drinking my Gatorade, thinking I just needed a little burst of sugar to replenish my glycogen. Still, I kept going.

At this point my memory is very fuzzy. I remember sometime during the fourth circuit a weak sensation came over me. And then the next thing I remember is sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. Did I pass out? I don’t think so. But I definitely have a gap in my memory at that point.

I don’t remember how I got there. Apparently I quietly sat down, because the class would have stopped had I collapsed. After a minute or so, my trainer realized I wasn’t getting up and asked if I was OK. I mumbled something about being underslept and she instructed me to finish my Gatorade. I continued to sit there for a few more minutes, still wondering how I got to the floor and trying to piece together what had happened.

After I finished my Gatorade, I (foolishly) tried to get right back into the class. They were on abs, and I didn’t want to miss my ab work. I did one set of crunches before the dizzy/sick feeling came over me again. My heart was beating faster than the techno music from the classroom speakers. Having finished my first Gatorade, I was given a second one and told to rest. 

The workout was an epic fail. The remainder of the night I continued to be weak and foggy-headed, despite eating dinner and drinking plenty of water. I don’t appear to be coming down with any illness, so I can only guess that I somehow worked myself too hard, even though I wasn’t working as hard as I’ve done in the past.

Can the time of day really affect performance that dramatically? Or was I just having an off day? I’m not sure, but I’ve never had to quit in the middle of one of my classes, so something clearly wasn’t right.

I’m planning to take a few days of rest before attempting any further exercise. Maybe some extra sleep would be more useful than more workout time at the moment?

Filed Under: ow · Tagged: ,


Apr 5, 2011

My Week of Suck

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Coming off of last week’s high of seeing myself creep ever so slowly to my lowest adult weight ever, I still expected to see some results at my weigh in on Saturday. What I didn’t expect was to see a number one and a half pounds higher than the week before: 172.8. What happened?

I reviewed my calories for the week and everything seemed to add up to loss. On Friday I did go out, but limited myself to two small glasses of sparkling wine and a very modest dinner. I tried to not feel down about the gain, and tried to convince myself it was just water weight from the alcohol.

Saturday was also the day when I had my strength training boot camp class. I had the alternate trainer again – the tough one – and she put me through a very difficult routine that felt like punishment for my weight gain.

When I woke up on Sunday afternoon, I could barely get out of bed. The only movement that didn’t hurt was my eyes. Still, I know the best way to cure sore muscles is to move them, so I attempted to go for a run in the early evening. Yet another fail – I did Couch to 5K, Week 3, thinking it would be an “easy” run, only to find it was terribly difficult. That’s what I get for not running all winter.

I focused Saturday and Sunday on drinking plenty of water and eating right in the hopes that my weight gain was just water weight. But when I stepped on the scale again on Monday morning, I was greeted with a weight that was half a pound higher than the previous one!

It’s just a number. I know it’s just a number. But I hate seeing it go up when I was so close to reaching my lowest adult weight. I’ve been to this point before a number of times, and this always seems to be the time when my body gives up and tries to correct itself back to heavy. I’ve already said goodbye to heavy, though, so I feel like I’m at war with myself to keep going.

I have another boot camp class tonight. No idea how I’m going to get through it when I’m still really sore. But I’m going to do it.

I’m also waiting on a delivery from Amazon with my Jillian Michaels’ Ripped in 30 DVD. I’m joining the Shredheads in trying out this DVD in April. I can’t do it every day, since I still have my boot camp classes, but I plan to use the DVD on as many off days as possible. I remember the success I had with Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred, and I’m hoping this might be the jump start I need to get the scale moving downwards again.

Filed Under: ow · Tagged: ,


Feb 14, 2011

My Week In Hell (Er, Bootcamp)

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So…bootcamp.

Yeah. Wow.

I knew going in that it wasn’t going to be easy. And for a program designed for people to lose weight, I was a little intimidated by all of the thin young women I saw in the class. But I showed up for my first class, took my place (in the back of the class) and was determined to do my best.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. The instructor started off with some basic cardio moves involving the step, and I easily followed along. It wasn’t until near the end, when we began switching into more strength moves that I started to struggle a little. Still, I finished strong, and not once did I feel any lightheadedness or urge to vomit.

Actually, all urges to vomit came the next night, when a stomach virus hit me out of nowhere. Ugh. Once again, I’ll say a stomach virus might just be the quickest way to lose weight, but certainly not the most pleasant or one I’d recommend.

By Thursday night (24 hours later) I was able to stomach some solid food again, and by Friday I was nearly back to normal. Which is good, because my second day of bootcamp was Saturday morning.

This particular program features 2 classes a week. One class is the traditional “bootcamp” with a mix of cardio and strength training. The second is what they call QVR (for quick, visible results), which is completely a strength training class with weights. I had been warned by a certain someone that QVR was harder than bootcamp, so I was prepared for the worst when I arrived on Saturday.

It was crowded when I arrived. Due to the success of the Groupon deal, they had more new recruits than they could handle. So they had to split the class into two. I was a little disappointed, because I’ve never worked with a weight bench and really wanted to, but my class was sent to the other room to work with free weights.

The instructor asked everyone to get a dumbbell, but she chose the weight for us. When it was my turn, I flashed my best pathetic smile and said, “Hi, I’m a newbie and a weakling,” as I eyed the 5lb weights. She took a hard look at me and handed me a 10lb weight. I tried to argue, but she was already on to the next person. Huh, maybe she knows something about me that I don’t, I thought.

The class started with lower body strength training and it didn’t take long before I broke a sweat. Lunges holding the weight, wide-leg squats dangling the weight, calf raises, dead lifts…they were difficult but not impossible. But that 10lb weight…it was getting heavy already.

When we moved into upper body routines, I started to lose any confidence I had. I normally use a 3lb weight for videos, and a 10lb weight felt damn near impossible at times. My arms trembled, I had trouble even lifting the weight from starting position at times, and I didn’t do nearly as many reps as the instructor was counting out. I was panting, grunting, whining, and my shirt was completely damp from sweat. A 10lb weight was WAY too hard for me.

For the last 15 minutes of class, I kept noticing the lights flickering in the room. That’s odd, I thought, why do the lights keep flickering? I finally asked the woman next to me, who confirmed that no, the lights weren’t flickering at all. Ah. So this is what it feels like when you’re close to passing out.

I grabbed my Gatorade and tried to give my body a little sugar to help with the stress I was putting it through. It gave me just enough energy to finish. In the cooldown, I was hit with nausea, but I focused on my breathing and it passed after a few minutes. I barely had the energy to haul my sorry self off the floor and put my hated 10lb weight back on the rack.

I left feeling broken. My arms felt like limp spaghetti, my legs ached. But an hour or so later I felt…good. Energized. Powerful. I was tired, but it was an exhaustion from solid work.

Yesterday? Oh, I hurt. A lot. And I still let out a small groan when I sit down sometimes. But I’m totally going back this week. If they can force me to work harder than I usually do, then I expect some awesome results when it’s over in 11 more weeks.

Oh, and current weight: 177. Lowest I’ve seen in a while!

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