July 15, 2017 by pecanbutter
Oh ya I am angry with myself for ignoring the signs, for stubbornly believing in my body’s ability to heal like before, for knowing what I have to do and yet not do it.
When I heard the ‘pop’ sound, that pain was sickeningly familiar. The pain was not from the ankle. I did not feel an iota of pain from the ankle. I just felt a loss of stability. The inability to push my foot forward. When I sat down to examine the area, it confirmed my greatest fear – the region where the Achilles’ tendon was suppose to be, was a soft tender hollow area.
I did not dare to hope.
The pain came from the crack in my heart when I realised the situation I was in. I could only see darkness.
What was I going to do with myself for the next few months to recovery?
All the preparation for the kids’ training and my own races for the next few months were gone in a poof.
I got into a little depressive mood. The thought that maybe I could have prevented this haunted me. I could not go back to that evening when I should have been at the dinner instead. I couldn’t have known. Maybe I should have known better. She told me that if I knew my future I would be a millionaire now. I really don’t know.
What I know is that I am stuck with a projected year long recovery.
Sillily, the only thought going through my mind was, would I be able to run again?
I caught myself. What is done cannot be undone. I could either sink into weeks of self pity misery or make the weeks at home productive. I could not choose to go back to that day. That day was done. What I can choose is to make good of the situation.
I have ranted and it is now time to check out the bright spots.
This thing that halted me in my path is fixable.
I will be up and about soon.