The quote is from the Dahlonega Ultra-Marathon Association; the grumbling is all mine. During the 11 years of my racing career I have been fortunate to suffer only a few injuries and mishaps. Back in 2013, I broke my wrist on a trail race and had to cancel a trip to Israel for the Jerusalem Marathon; the surgery resulted in a titanium plate and screws but otherwise did not handicap me. A year later I experienced a bothersome bout with a piriformis problem that was resolved with exercise and physical therapy. In both cases, I still pushed through with my existing race schedule; the race in Jerusalem was my only DNS.
Even my two foot surgeries in 2016 did not keep me from racing after a 6 week recovery period. I believed I was invincible; I may have slowed down quite a bit but I was a fast healer and felt I could push on through almost anything as long as I gritted my teeth and kept moving.
Well, it turns out I was wrong. Very wrong. I am not invincible. I’m also older and slower. But I am also stubborn. After my most recent foot surgery the day before Thanksgiving last year, I was determined to continue with my planned racing schedule. After all, I would have 2 full weeks to recuperate and the surgery involved just one toe. I was sure I could do it. I also had the blessing of my podiatrist, who understood my fervor and my persistence but nevertheless cautioned me to go slowly and STOP if I hurt. I did not heed his advice and I am now paying the price.
Two weeks after surgery I did the Tallahassee Ultradistance Classic 50k. I hurt the entire time but did not have sense enough to stop. Then, two weeks later, I did Lucky 13, the 13 marathon/13 day challenge in Ocala. I pushed through despite unceasing pain in my sore foot. After that series I rested for 3 weeks, skipping a planned half marathon double weekend so I could concentrate on an upcoming 24 hour race, FastTrack in Palatka. An hour into the 24 hour race, I knew I was in trouble but did I stop? Of course not. I persisted for another 20 hours and racked up 53 miles.
But resting after the 24 hour race did not diminish the pain. A follow-up visit to my podiatrist resulted in a stern warning to do no weight bearing at all for 10 days. I obeyed but still the pain persisted. I realized it was time to consult with a specialist, so I made an appointment at the University of Florida’s sports medicine clinic. The result? I was diagnosed with four stress fractures in my left foot (my little toe was the only intact appendage), my foot was encased in a special boot, and I was warned that it might take 6 to 12 weeks for the fractures to heal. Since I am post-menopausal with osteopenia, that period might well take the entire 12 weeks. No weight bearing activity for that period at all. Grumble, grumble, grumble!!
I realize now, with the enlightening benefit of hindsight, that I should never have attempted that 50k so soon after surgery. But even if I had insisted on trying to do that race, I should have realized that the pain was a warning signal to quit. I always hate to give up mid-race and so I convinced myself I could soldier through. But that was foolish – I realize that now – and I am paying the price. I have learned my lesson.
Now I am trying to be a model patient. I am working on strengthening my upper body with weights and doing lots of reading, knitting, and puzzles. I am taking vitamin D and eating prunes every day (a professor at Florida State University has studied the effect of eating a daily serving of prunes to increase bone density in post-menopausal women and found a positive result). Despite my grumbling I am trying to send positive thoughts to the metatarsal bones in my foot. Even so, my grumbling continues. Pity Darcy, my poor husband, who must listen (or pretend to listen) to my venting and complaining. One of my pastimes is searching for races I can add to my schedule once I am back on track. For the sake of family and friends, as well as myself, I hope that recovery comes quickly and completely.