5 Weeks Away


The short and sweet of it is that we’re 5 weeks away from running a marathon that we’ve been training a long time for. We’re 5 weeks away and I can’t even walk right, nontheless run.

Not because I’m dumb mind you, I can’t walk right because last Monday night I was on a run, trying to get back into the swing of things after taking a week off for no good reason. I was doing good and feeling good during the run, the fall air helping me greatly. I was planning on doing 6ish miles just to get my old sea legs back. I was on the final stretch home, in my Mike Zone, 6.5 miles in, cruising at a good pace.

During the last mile of the run, hell, the last 3 miles of it I had been thinking about what I’d be doing during the actual marathon; how I’d run it, how I’d act (IE how I’ll make an ass of myself), how I’d dress, how I’d play to the crowd. I was quite obsessed with the run, working myself into a new frenzy about the race, knowing it is for all practicalities right around the corner.

Coming into the final stretch of the run, about a quarter mile away from where I was planning on stopping, I gave quick thought to maybe extending my run a mile or 2. I could use the practice, I haven’t run in a week and I need to get my lazy ass back in gear. I’m at 6.5 now, if I run another 1 or 2 miles, whats to stop me from doing 10, 11, 12 miles? This has become a delightful internal struggle with my runs, which I think is good, I mean I used to never ever run more than I set out to. Now I’m constantly pushing myself to run more than planned or just to see how much I could do that night, just for the hell of it. A fun practice I’ve gotten into the last couple months.

As  I debated this time, I randomly just came down wrong on my right ankle, immediately fell to the ground, tumbled a couple times. The immediate reaction was to make sure my ipod didn’t break cause I could hear it bouncing on the sidewalk as I made sure to collect as much dirt and grass on myself as possible. It didn’t hit me immediately, but when it did it hurt. I very very quickly realized I didn’t just trip cause I’m an idiot, I fell because my right ankle hit some crazy indent in the sidewalk and was forced to, in a way, “kiss its own butt”. It collapsed upon itself and by the time I knew what was up it was swelling up big time.

After I realized the ankle was screaming for help, I immediately tore off my right shoe for room because it was already swelling past capacity. By the time I took off my sock my right ankle has already resembled a large scoop of ice cream. I’m no doctor, but ankles should not resemble scoops of ice cream.

It hurt. A lot. I sat on the dirt hill that I fell upon screaming non family friendly blog words as I just looked at the rapidly swelling ankle wondering if it’d get bigger. In some kind of act of ‘this just didn’t happen’ stupidness, I got up and tried to walk away like nothing happened. Once the right foot was re-introduced to the ground the rest of my body was almost re-introduced to the ground, it became quickly obvious I wasn’t walking home with any help from the right side.

I know the neighborhood like the back of my hand and I knew I was a good quarter mile from my house. It was kinda late at night, 1030pm, so nobody was really out strolling outside to possibly lend a hand to a poor soul so I knew my only option of getting home was hopping. I thought I was in trouble because if my left leg was as useful as my left arm, I knew I was never getting home. Luckily, as it turns out, with a few rest breaks, my left leg doesn’t suck at hopping as much as my left arm sucks at everything.

Eventually I get my sad butt home and immediately take as much Ibprophen and Advil as I can find and ice the new behemoth for a couple of hours (not before taking a picture of the big ankle and throwing it on facebook of course). Its kind of now that I’m slowly realizing that this might affect my marathon.

I spend the majority of the night keeping myself awake with the thoughts of if I just ended my marathon experience. Hell, I’m 5 days removed from it and still don’t know. As of now, my ankle has lost most of its swelling but my foot is fat, mostly filled with … fluid or something. It looks plastic.

I’m really hoping it heals itself real soon because I’m running this stupid marathon with or without it being healthy. I got myself real excited about it and I’m still crazy excited about the race and to hell if I’m going to let a stupid fat ankle stop me. I’ll probably just jump on Paul’s shoulders or something.

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