Cautiously Optimistic

It’s been one week since I started on my injury path and so much has happened.  I mean, seriously, look at what the Donald has gotten himself into now.  Billy Bush?  What were you thinking, dude?!  Then Brad and Ang coming to a custody agreement so fast?  Amazeballs.  And the Kardashian jewel thief caper.  Oh my goodness.  My point?  I’ve been a good little non-runner and the American political system, paired with a healthy dose of reality and a-list celebrity drama have kept me busy and engaged with the important things in the world.  Oh.  And past seasons of Survivor.  

I do feel pleased at my recovery progress so far.  Today was the first day that felt like the cramping let up late this morning and into afternoon and my end of day felt pretty normal.  Until today, every day has been filled with excruciating pain, up and down my leg for most of the day.  It’s relentless, like birthing labor, and it moves in waves, like contractions, too.   Remember that sweet, blissful painfree moment in between labor pains?  I did that allllll last week.  Hours of pain, moment of sweet painlessness, back to it again.   I was scared of going back to work because I could imagine being hit with a nasty charley horse in the middle of a math lesson.  Kids being kids would still be asking me if they could use the restroom and would still be tattling as they are usually oblivious to the suffering of an adult, and there I would be, poor attitude and grouching at them through my teeth, gritted in pain!  I’m not worried about hurting at work as much as I’m worried about about my pain threshold and the resulting shortest or temper that comes, and the resulting damage to the relationships I have with my second graders.  But today there was hardly any pain.  I kept on my pain meds and even felt so good that I attempted to run a little across the courtyard, without thinking, until I remembered that I’m injured and shouldn’t.  That has to be a good sign, right?

I’m glad to be feeling better.  I was a bit depressed last week, even if I did spend most of it at home with ice packs, heating pads, husband massages and more episodes of survivor than should be viewed in one week…. It’s sounds stupid, but I’m terrified losing my stride and gaining weight back. I can forgive a 10-20 pound gain, but more than that is untenable. I guess what is scaring me the most is taking three months off. Three months is pretty much what it takes to get into condition. I imagine that after three months without running that I’m essentially going to be a non-runner again. I’ll be out of shape. Chubby. Burning lungs. The works. Ugh. Today was the first day where I finally felt better enough to seriously consider what I’m going to do to make this work. I read about a few other runners who were sidelined for a few months and they focused on their upper bodies during their recovery period.  One gal said her running partner and she had the same injury at the same time, they took time off, and her partner took the opportunity to lift and get strong up top.  The girl who just recovered had some major regrets when they came back together.  I’m always talking about working on my arms but I have a hard time getting any kind of routine going.  I think this may finally be my time.  So my plan is to have a plan by the end of this week.  I’ll be looking into what upper body cardio can look like as well as some arms and core routines.  Yahoo!