Are You Gonna Be OK?

When I first started on this Peg Leg journey, my biggest fear was that I would never run again.  This was a visceral fear that I literally felt in my core.  Terrifying.  Running has been my rock and my constant since I was fourteen years old.  I depended on running when I felt happy, sad, scared, stressed, you name it.  I wanted to run.  Long hours on the dirt, away from complications, niceties and falsities, left me feeling refreshed and renewed no matter how badly I had felt when I headed out to the door.  Nothing else has ever made me feel so clean, safe, confident.  Just the thought of losing this companion brought tears to my eyes (dramatic, I know, but true…and I am not much of a crier).

In fact, running is what I have thought about most before and after surgery.  However, just as I was surprised by how I kind of luxuriated in being a nuisance (see past post), I have been surprised by how I have learned that I will be OK no matter what happens with my foot.  Shocking, even.  I do feel this, though. And I am sure some of these thoughts have been preemptory to prepare my psyche in case that is what the doc says.  Train the brain and the truth will be less painful.  I have done this now for months, so today, I felt ready.

I picked up my new orthotics and all seems good with my foot.  I have run a couple days each week for about 30-45 minutes and only been sore.  I have come to enjoy the gym more and all the cardio equipment has to offer.  I am even doing a daily 100 push ups (yes, big boy style) and weights.  After a few minutes I asked the doc about hills and running.  He tried to be encouraging, but basically, running is the worst thing I can do for my foot.  Running highly increases the chances for a joint replacement in the near future.  F**K!

But, I pulled up my big girl pants and felt OK.  I know I will be OK.  I can do things.  I may not be able to rely on my runs for all the things I once did, but I can do baby runs without hills and I can do many other activities.  It is empowering to know I will be OK.  I might even be stronger than I thought…I’ll keep you posted on that one…

Swim Little Fishy

Peg Leg got wet.  No, I am not a bragging rebel patient again.  I was given clearance to swim!  This little ducky is free to dip my head and wet my feathers. I cannot touch anything with my foot, but I can swim.  Taking off das boot and getting it back on on the side of the pool is not a pretty sight, but the humiliation of das boot removal and my neon swim suit (which, no joke, is called Dolfin Uglies) could not damper my excitement to get my heart rate up for the first time in nearly three weeks.

I am not an efficient nor beautiful swimmer, but it felt surprisingly good to swim.  My sore and pathetic Peg Leg did alright propelling me through the water.  I made it about 45 minutes and had been so relieved no other swimmers or bystanders were around for my maiden voyage.  But, as Peg Leg luck would have it, a few arrived just in time for my exit from the pool.  Grace is not my first, nor middle name.  I thought I had das boot’s removal and reattachment planned well with a towel laid out for drying and das boot right at the end of my lane.  But, when it came time to get out, I realized the ladder was at the other side of the pool.  No chance I can scoot in my Uglies, with Peg Leg in the air from one side of the pool deck to the other.  Imagine a crab with an extra claw stuck in the air…So I had to brave a full-body hoist up, with an audience.

You know when you try to hoist up like rising from a dip and you don’t quite make it?  Embarrassing.  I had the added worry of banging my Peg Leg on the wall.  A definite NO-NO.  I feigned stretching, had a drink of my water, played with my watch (actually my son’s old Shark watch from Jr. High when he was all about Rasta colors…adds to the look of my Uglies suit).  These bystanders and swimmers are still lurking and I need to go.  I muscled some muscle and some courage, and popped this ducky right out of the pool.  Quack.  I attempted drying off while sitting on towel, reattached das boot, did not look up and scurried out of there.  But, I went back again today.  Duckies can’t stay out of the water too long.  Even the Uglies.

Peg Leg Jenn

A friend of mine told me to start a blog while I recoup from foot surgery.  I guess because I am antsy and she knows that my doctor-mandated only 15 minutes of standing per hour will drive me to the brink of insanity.  She is trying to keep me busy and out of her hair.  I baulked at first.  “No one would want to read about me.  I’m boring.”  She assured me, “My sister has a blog and some days like 100 stalkers follow her!”  That clenched the deal.  What could be more rewarding than 100 stalkers???