A Tear Away from Ending It

I really, really like the nurse practitioner that is my primary care provider. She really knows a lot. She really knows me too.

For more than two years I have complained to her off and on about the same ankle injury. She listens, recommends a conservative course of treatment and tells me to get back with her in six to eight weeks if there is no improvement. For awhile this fall, there was improvement, which I think is why she was surprised to see me this morning.

My achilles tendon had by then swollen to twice the size of the healthy one on the other leg just by running errands the day before. Fortunately, the tendon is still attached to my “calf muscle,” so it’s not severed. But the huge knot and chronic pain point to a significant tear. Maybe even a “recreational-ending” one.

For those that are interested, the course of action for now begins with prerequisite x-rays of my foot and ankle, which are required for me to get an MRI. The MRI will settle once and for all the extent of damage and maybe shed some light on what biomechanics are behind this chronic injury. From there I will limp over to the orthopedics wing to consult with an ankle specialist. Options at the moment range from surgery to physical therapy.

In the meantime, I am taking prescription-strength anti-inflammatory medication and continue to rest, ice, bandage and elevate the ankle. I also have to wear my running shoes during all waking hours.

All this is SOP. What came next was her advice, runner to runner. She said she knows I’m not “the 24-Hour Fitness kind of runner” and that I need to soak in the outdoors and not just log miles on the treadmill. She asked some pointed yet seemingly random questions and I suddenly saw where she was going. I’ve been on the verge of tears since.

I’m going to hold off saying more until the ankle specialist has issued a diagnosis and prognosis. Forget a turkey trot. Forget taking on my peers in the 2010 SDTC Grand Prix. My new goal is to be fit enough in a week for the family’s annual walk/hike, which just got a whole lot shorter and more level.

'The Skinny' on Those Maniacs

Just finished reading today's Wall Street Journal that includes an article on the rising trend of 'mega marathoners' and just what motivates someone to essentially devote so many waking hours and income to run marathon after marathon. To no one's surprise, those in pursuit of such big goals tend to be middle-aged and at their peak income, at least when they start chasing race tallies rather than race times.

For 'Mega Marathoners,' the Race is On ... To Run More Races

Here's a passage that stood out to me:

Scientists have studied compulsive running, not only in humans but in rats and mice. Some compare it to eating disorders like anorexia nervosa.

Michael Sachs, a professor at Temple University in Philadelphia who studies exercise addictions and usually runs 18 miles a week, says for most people, running multiple marathons is simply a passion, like skiing or surfing, and not a disorder. He says runners enter addiction territory only when they can't control their urge to race. "If running marathons is at the top of your list of values above all else," says Dr. Sachs, "that might be something to worry about."

What's your take on this theory?

Wordless Wednesday

Who Is Killing the Raccoons?

This morning made four.

Heading to the gym at daybreak, I spotted the fourth very big and very dead raccoon in the very same place as three others, give or take a few yards. These casualties of cars, coyotes or some other collision are all just around the corner from our house, on the main throughfare through our housing development. The carcasses are removed by the time schoolchildren head up the street, but by whom I do not know.

I'm not sure how often you've encountered a raccoon, but these critters are very big (21 to 60 pounds) and often rabid. I've seen maybe three my entire time here, all while running in the dark. They like to hide in storm drains until you pass, though wild ones can be aggressive. And now I come upon four of them, all stone cold dead, in one week and in one place.

Even more disconcerting: What are my neighbors doing with the road kill?!

An All-Too-Typical Saturday Morning

Once again I sat out what appeared to be another superb Saturday morning run with our training program. I guess when you re-aggravate a tenacious ankle injury that took months to heal, it takes more than a couple of weeks to mend again.

Instead, I volunteered at our aid station at Morley Field, near North Park, which meant sitting in a cushy director's chair with my spiced chai latte and shooting the breeze with fellow volunteer Erin while runners came and went. I also shot photos for our online album, some of which I'll share here.

First, the group decides on a route - or several options, in this case. Ordinarily we follow a map with a prescribed run, but today everyone decided to wing it. That flexibility and innovation is what I love best about this group.


We always do a warm-up first.




Oh, come on...you wouldn't have been able to pass up this shot either. (Besides, it's not like I was 'behind' everyone.)


Most of the group just before everyone took off in all directions.


That's fellow San Diegan running blogger AKA Alice, who ran with part of her herd this morning.


Just as our runners were finishing up, the men's USATF Dirt Dog Championship Race was starting.


More from near the front of the pack.


And our fearless leader with a boo-boo on his arm where he fell down on the course. He skinned his knee too. Gotta love the additional challenges of cross-country.

I wish I could have stayed to watch the women's race. I'm sure it would have inspired me. But I had to get home in time to make a salad to complement the fixings at Christine and Todd's place, where we intend to enjoy an afternoon of football and fellowship. I better watch what I eat, though, since you don't burn nearly as many calories running your mouth all morning.

Some Wordless Days Don't Go As Planned

I spent yesterday in Point Loma babysitting an 8-month-old. We spent the morning strolling all over Shelter Island and surrounding residential areas. The weather was perfect. The setting, perfect. The baby's disposition, perfect perfect perfect. My camera, not so perfect. It wouldn't work and there were some wonderful Wordless Wednesday photos just waiting to be captured. One image was of a pod of lunchtime runners all wearing their iPods and Vibrams with the bay, city skyline and mountains in the background. (I will say this, those barely-there "shoes" make you look much cooler if you're running in longer board shorts than itsy bitsy running shorts, guys.)

So there's no photo for today. Instead, let me cast aside my disappointment and thank each and every veteran and family member of a veteran for their service and their sacrifices on behalf of our country. That includes my all-time favorite veteran, who is still upstairs snoring away as I type this.