Injured List

{This picture was from Saturday morning when we ran for over an hour in the darkest of mornings and then were greeted by the most beautiful and colorful beach sunrise.}

I'm on the injured list. I better not stay there for long--pray that I won't stay there for long--but that's where I'm finding myself at the end of this week. Benched. Foot elevated. Ice packs and Ibuprofen. Compression socks. Tears.

The annoying thing about this whole thing is that I'm hurt but I don't know what happened. 

Well, not really.

I was mid-run on my Monday 4-mile loop when my heel started feeling funky, completely out of nowhere. I didn't step wrong, I didn't trip, I didn't roll, just instantly my heel was not happy. I chalked it up to something in my sock and finished my last two miles strong, figuring that I'd feel better when I took off my shoes. But that didn't happen. In fact, that day my foot got progressively worse until I was limping everywhere I went. It's been five days and I'm still limping. It's bad.

If I wanted to play Google Doc, I'd tell myself that it's an overuse injury, probably a tired tendon. And why after a year of running did I get an overuse injury? Because I made some bad training choices last week and pushed myself way too hard. I did back-to-back runs on the same day (my regular 5 on the road but what really killed me was a 3.5 mile trail run less than two hours later) and then two days later, when my body was sore and tired, I woke up early for another 6-mile run. And that was after a considerable amount of running earlier in the week. More than usual, if I'm being honest. I'm a goer, a doer, a never-sit-stiller and maybe this injury is my body's way of screaming ENOUGH ALREADY! I think I did too much. (I know I did too much.) I think it needs a break. (I know it needs a break.) 

(A short break? Fingers crossed?)

When I first started running I hated it. I told myself I wasn't a runner, and honestly I only kept doing it because I was too stubborn to give up when my friends were still going strong. But then that hate turned to toleration, and then it grew to respect for the sport, and before long running became something I loved and craved, my favorite form of therapy and a part of my identity I viewed with pride. Running is my thing now, and the fear of losing it feels immense. 

I've spent this week canceling plans and patiently babying my body, desperately hoping that this unfamiliar-to-me form of self-love will heal my heel.