I've blogged before - not very successfully. But recently, I have found that I have more to say than what I feel comfortable posting on Facebook. I always feel like I am bragging/boasting/imposing myself on the Facebook crowd. Don't get me wrong. I don't think ill of any of my FB friends who share their lives in that format. In fact, I am sort of envious that they can just put it all out there and not care about the comments people inevitably think but not post. I overanalyze. I hope that this blog is read by people who DON'T know me personally. Is that weird? Whatever.
I can't run anymore.
How can I be a triathlete without running? Tri means three and now I can only do two: swimming and biking. Waa, waa. There are so many other people out there that can't do any of those things. I get it. I really do. But when you spend the last five years battling with a sport that concludes with a hellish, pain-induced, fighting-for-every-inch run at the end to get to a sweet, gratifying, can't-believe-I-did-it finish line -- it feels like you lost a friend.
Sure, it's a friend of which I had a love/hate relationship. But at least I could choose to hate it or love it. Now, I have no choice at all. It's like a break-up you knew was going to happen--even wanted to happen--but when it happened, you actually wanted to go back and change things.
Elizabeth Kubler Ross coined the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Am I mourning running?
Denial -- occurred all summer when I ignored the pressure on the inside of the knee and attributed it to scar tissue.
Anger -- I get sort of angry that I can't sign up for a full triathlon anymore. I get angry when I see what seems like the ENTIRE freaking neighborhood running by my house on their easy Saturday morning jogs. I get angry that every freaking ad on Facebook has to do with new sneakers, new Garmins, new training plans. I get angry because so many take it for granted that they can run. I get angry because I did too - until I couldn't anymore.
Bargaining -- I tried to make deals with myself -- I'll only do sprint tris. I only walk/jog the run. I'll eat really well. I'll never complain about run workouts again. There are no more deals to be made.
Depression -- I go in and out of this one. I am fine until I see pictures of my friends at the end of a 5k on Facebook. I am fine until I see my $170 Hoka one one's mocking me from their spot near the door. They were only bought because I had a bad knee and it was going to help me to keep running. I am fine until I realize that I will probably never cross another finish line. And then I am not fine.
Acceptance -- I'm not there yet.
I am four days into recovery from my third knee surgery. :( My right knee can't seem to hold onto its cartilage. After a tempo run last August (of 2012), my knee felt stiff, swollen and seemed to "catch" when I moved from side-to-side in certain positions. I was convinced it was a meniscus tear and just needed a little snip, snip and I would be good as new. It turned out to be a bit more serious. The articular cartilage, in a weight-bearing area between my femur and tibia/fibula, had broken down and there was damage all the way to the bone. I had micro-fracture surgery last August and spent the fall on crutches with strict instructions to put NO weight on that leg. Yikes. I was in physical therapy from October until May with varying levels of success. Some days would feel great and other days were miserable with feeling something "not right" within my knee. I became quite hypersensitive to any twinge, tweak or catch.
I can't run anymore.
How can I be a triathlete without running? Tri means three and now I can only do two: swimming and biking. Waa, waa. There are so many other people out there that can't do any of those things. I get it. I really do. But when you spend the last five years battling with a sport that concludes with a hellish, pain-induced, fighting-for-every-inch run at the end to get to a sweet, gratifying, can't-believe-I-did-it finish line -- it feels like you lost a friend.
Sure, it's a friend of which I had a love/hate relationship. But at least I could choose to hate it or love it. Now, I have no choice at all. It's like a break-up you knew was going to happen--even wanted to happen--but when it happened, you actually wanted to go back and change things.
Elizabeth Kubler Ross coined the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Am I mourning running?
Denial -- occurred all summer when I ignored the pressure on the inside of the knee and attributed it to scar tissue.
Anger -- I get sort of angry that I can't sign up for a full triathlon anymore. I get angry when I see what seems like the ENTIRE freaking neighborhood running by my house on their easy Saturday morning jogs. I get angry that every freaking ad on Facebook has to do with new sneakers, new Garmins, new training plans. I get angry because so many take it for granted that they can run. I get angry because I did too - until I couldn't anymore.
Bargaining -- I tried to make deals with myself -- I'll only do sprint tris. I only walk/jog the run. I'll eat really well. I'll never complain about run workouts again. There are no more deals to be made.
Depression -- I go in and out of this one. I am fine until I see pictures of my friends at the end of a 5k on Facebook. I am fine until I see my $170 Hoka one one's mocking me from their spot near the door. They were only bought because I had a bad knee and it was going to help me to keep running. I am fine until I realize that I will probably never cross another finish line. And then I am not fine.
Acceptance -- I'm not there yet.
I am four days into recovery from my third knee surgery. :( My right knee can't seem to hold onto its cartilage. After a tempo run last August (of 2012), my knee felt stiff, swollen and seemed to "catch" when I moved from side-to-side in certain positions. I was convinced it was a meniscus tear and just needed a little snip, snip and I would be good as new. It turned out to be a bit more serious. The articular cartilage, in a weight-bearing area between my femur and tibia/fibula, had broken down and there was damage all the way to the bone. I had micro-fracture surgery last August and spent the fall on crutches with strict instructions to put NO weight on that leg. Yikes. I was in physical therapy from October until May with varying levels of success. Some days would feel great and other days were miserable with feeling something "not right" within my knee. I became quite hypersensitive to any twinge, tweak or catch.
The month of May hit and my orthopedic surgeon didn't like what was going on....hence...the second surgery. This was a diagnostic-let's look inside-see what's going on type of surgery. The micro-fracture looked great but there was some other cartilage that was floating around that needed cleaning up. Hooray! I could run again. My PT's got me on a run progression and I spent the summer running slowly in a pair of ugly-orthopedic Hoka One-Ones. I've grown to like them, but we are NOT in love yet. I didn't feel any pain running - just pressure. Then I upped my speed in order to actually make my body run faster than the 10 - 11 minute mile it was quite happy sustaining. On direction of my PT, I added some faster intervals of 9:30; 9:00; 8:30; and 8:00 minute paces of 30 seconds each to my regular run.
It was awesome. Tough, but I finally felt like my old self. If you are a triathlete, there is a certain amount of pain expected with training and I hadn't felt that "aerobic pain" in a long, long time. My knee didn't hurt - my lungs did.
Not an hour later, something didn't feel right. It just felt like something--my patella--something just felt "off." Back into PT I went, where they worked on getting my form back into line. I ran on the track with no pain and was ready to get back out there. The next day, as I was finishing a climbing a small set of stairs and rounding a corner, my knee "caught." I felt instant sharp internal joint pain and knew something inside was terribly wrong.
A week later, the MRI confirmed some more articular cartilage damage in the same spot as my micro-fracture and under the knife I went again.
This time the news is not so great. The micro fracture is failing and I need to "wait and see" if I need to go to Boston for a consult for an ACI. This is a much more serious operation that could potentially give me back a brand new knee. We are talking about a small spot of 1 cm of cartilage that is wreaking HAVOC on my life. I can't dance. I can't play volleyball. I have trouble moving side-to-side in my kitchen emptying the dishwasher or cooking.
It's time to accept the reality. It's time to stop choosing to try and run. It's time to choose my everyday life.
Is this acceptance?
miles to go b4 i sleep.....
It was awesome. Tough, but I finally felt like my old self. If you are a triathlete, there is a certain amount of pain expected with training and I hadn't felt that "aerobic pain" in a long, long time. My knee didn't hurt - my lungs did.
Not an hour later, something didn't feel right. It just felt like something--my patella--something just felt "off." Back into PT I went, where they worked on getting my form back into line. I ran on the track with no pain and was ready to get back out there. The next day, as I was finishing a climbing a small set of stairs and rounding a corner, my knee "caught." I felt instant sharp internal joint pain and knew something inside was terribly wrong.
A week later, the MRI confirmed some more articular cartilage damage in the same spot as my micro-fracture and under the knife I went again.
This time the news is not so great. The micro fracture is failing and I need to "wait and see" if I need to go to Boston for a consult for an ACI. This is a much more serious operation that could potentially give me back a brand new knee. We are talking about a small spot of 1 cm of cartilage that is wreaking HAVOC on my life. I can't dance. I can't play volleyball. I have trouble moving side-to-side in my kitchen emptying the dishwasher or cooking.
It's time to accept the reality. It's time to stop choosing to try and run. It's time to choose my everyday life.
Is this acceptance?
miles to go b4 i sleep.....
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