Minus the Head Full Of Doubt. Everything seems to be pretty clear now. Yes, the Avett Brothers have got to be pretty tired by now of singing my favorite song as of late.
Before finally hearing from my doctor's office early this morning, I'd had exactly the kind of weekend I really needed. It started with the birthday celebration for my only son, who turned seven on Friday. I don't know but I am pretty sure he is grooming himself to be The Most Interesting Man In The World some day. Rather than selecting some kid-friendly eating establishment for his birthday dinner, he informed us early and often that he would like to eat his birthday dinner at Il Bistro Italiano. I'm not one to say no to one of my favorite restaurants in the valley, so to Il Bistro we went, where he proudly proclaimed that he was going to marry the chocolate decadence cake he ordered for dessert after a really good dinner. That's my boy. Sorry, ladies...chocolate wins.
This was followed on Saturday with a trip to Bananas Fun Park, which normally would be kind of my idea of hell on earth on a rainy day when you're stuck in the indoor play areas and can't go-kart, put-put or paddle boat. There was a purposeful ban on this not being an entire classroom party, though, and Carter just had two little dudes along for some fun. They went down this gigantic wave slide more times than I can count. I think they may have been a wee bit tired after three hours-but then again, probably not. That would be my kid on his face with one of his friends flying down behind him-this wipeout thing seems to run in the family.
Sunday, in contrast, was all about getting mellow, quiet, and mostly turning the brain off from everything. I took care of necessary chores and errands in the morning, and then was able to kind of retreat from civilization and mom duties, and disconnect from everything in the afternoon. I had a very peaceful afternoon of active relaxation, and I was able to just center myself, enjoy, and come back to reality afterward feeling recharged and rejuvenated. Stress and any pent-up negative stuff just faded away yesterday. It was long overdue, and I think that Sunday was the best night of sleep I'd had since messing up the ankle. Just a very excellent weekend all the way around.
Today started with my youngest proving that with four kids, you're never going to get them all being easy at the same time. It had been a struggle to get this usually easy kid out the door for preschool. I finally got her going and was able to do the preschool run, and upon my return there was a message from my doctor's office. They had conferred with a foot/ankle specialist, and he wanted me in with the big orthopedic group in town today. The freelance writer in the area who is writing the alcohol study piece, and who is a regular contributor to Runners World actually consults with these guys regularly for reference in her articles. SWEET. Before I could even pick up the phone to call them back, the ortho group called to schedule me in.
I met with Dr. Price from the sports medicine team in the group. I had been told going into it that I was probably going to be having weight bearing x-rays taken to determine what was going on with that one ligament in question that may or may not have been torn. I'd also been told all kinds of worst case, scorched earth scenarios from other folks who were telling me how long I was supposed to be non-weight-bearing. Well, it was a breath of fresh air when this guy said yes, Boston's 100% out unless a miracle occurs, BUT we can bring you back to doing things as tolerated and not on some cookie cutter time line.
I thought I'd get a tongue lashing for not exactly resting on Sunday, but he totally understood that I was climbing the walls, and said that I'd selected wisely in my activity. My ankle was apparently also far less swollen than some other guy he'd seen the same day with a similar injury. He said that as far as sprains go, mine was definitely as bad as they see short of needing surgery, but that I should absolutely be good to go for fall races so long as I don't do anything stupid in the meatine. This had me doing the little happy dance on the inside, especially when he said that the Bolder Boulder on Memorial Day would be a realistic possibility for me. Sure, it may not be my most stellar race ever coming off of a ton of cross training, but this gives me something in the immediate future on which to focus.
I got to see my MRI on the computer in-office, which was pretty cool since I'm going to get an HMO bill for it anyway, and normally you just have a doctor phoning in these results to you. He explained and pointed out what we were looking at, and it was also reassuring to see and hear that my bones were in great shape for a runner who, as he put it, would be at higher risk for stress fractures with my particular build and and genetic makeup.
What I am on orders to do now is call the PT I mentioned in the last entry, and get in with him ASAP "so Bryan can really beat you up," as Dr. Price said. The one time I went to this PT before, the question was "what is your goal race/event?" and not "Why do you run? Dontcha know it's bad for your knees?" So, I'm actually pretty excited to get in for PT.
I was also told, as expected, that pool running is the way to go for me. I don't even have a gym membership now, and haven't for several years. It's been running, and my dance classes. I guess everything happens for a reason, though. I showed up for my regular adult ballet class tonight to find out that the studio owner canceled classes for the rest of the school year and had neglected to pass this along to me. I gave her some crap via text, because I can-that's my adult female time-but ultimately, that can become pool time now. I got in touch with a friend I know from Girls on the Run/Solemates/Team Tiara who also teaches classes at Gold's Gym here, which I hear has a kickass pool. I'm going to see what kind of specials are out there to be had, and then I'm going to run with it. Underwater. With a weight belt. Not how I imagined my April would go, but I will take it for now. Like the Avett Brothers say...decide what to be and go be it. I'm gonna be an aqua jogger for the next little stretch of time.