It is soon time to bring this blog to a close. As my recovery continues, I am less and less an injured runner, less and less a recovering runner, and more a runner again.
I have seen the best, and worst, in myself. I have seen over and over the kindness in people, how important family is, and how important it is to be thankful for each day we are here.
The Injured Runner soon hands off the baton. It will be a bittersweet step, but an exciting one.
Hard to believe that the surgery is that far back now. Wow. After the surgery, and while puttering around at home for 6 weeks, time seemed to stand still. I got sick of the AARP commercials, as well as “NoNo” and a zillion other commercials played all day long.
Progress seemed to be zero. I had a detour through the hospital, a lot of time to reflect and think over a lot of things that are right, and not right in my life. Both sides of that balance sheet are pretty full.
At day 82, progress rate went into high gear. what a turnaround. I feel like I have plateaued but here is where perception and reality are off.
When I move my ankle, I feel tightness and I think, “Dang, not good.” What I am realizing is that I am moving it a lot further to hit those points now. And, when it moves, it isn’t so much the feeble, struggle to move mechanical stuff as it is a more controlled and movement based on flexibility and strength.
I am closing in on two weeks, possibly, when I will be OK’d to run. I have tried a little “running” indoors, a glorified faster walk here at home, for about 10-20 feet on our straight runs of padded carpet. No problem. The real thing awaits.
I am getting more strength in the calf both in function and measure. Kunal noted the left calf is “getting there”. Still some deficiency compared to the right but almost able to raise my body weight solely on the left foot (could not do this before surgery even). By now, the right has probably changed some (since my last run was at the beginning of October last year).
Since getting a full head of steam in recovery, I’ve been swimming, deep water running, elliptical’ing, and indoor cycling. I tried rowing perhaps too soon, probably OK now (indoors, of course).
My INR level (measures effectiveness of warfarin) has been bouncing around but finally stabilized again. I am at the (at worst) 1/2 way point of taking that drug. Maybe my need for it will drop off sooner than the 6 month window. Note to self: ask the doctor what the criteria are to exit this drug.
My weight has mostly come back to where it was before surgery, maybe even a tad higher than I’d like but that will be fixed in time.
I’ve mentioned the BAPS board. Here is a picture of it in use. My PT has become more dynamic now, less “sit and stretch” and more “move and extend” stuff now.
The next thing for me is jumping rope. No, really. This is something I could not do healthy, so I am not sure this is a good prerequisite for running but I will try.
Kinda of a “post just to post” but I do want to keep this thing going. The process continues, so my endless babble will too. Need to keep thoughts written down so at some point, when I am hopefully running and fully recovered, I can look back, and be reminded what a precious gift we have in life.
OK, not a great title.
If you took a picture of an outside area from the same spot at the start of each season, the changes would be dramatic among the pictures when compared. But if you took a picture each day, the changes would be slow and subtle, seemingly unchanging at times. Some changes would be hidden from view, like sap moving from tree roots as temperatures warm.
Such is the dilemma I face.
At times, it seems like nothing is happening in my recovery, even feels like regressing at times. Old aches and pains flare up and quiet down, and new ones pop up. I feel a new stuck point and so on. Because the changes for me are gradual and really continual, it is hard for me to look and say, “Wow, huge change.”
Instead, I see the daily pictures but my heart wants to see those seasonal pictures of change.
I also don’t have precedent to know how I am doing. Is this going well? Am I lagging? Am I going to have some permanent issue? Am…? What if…? But… ?
In this case, I have to trust those who know this far better than I do. Kunal has worked with many patients and his progress report on me is pretty good, I am pleased to write.
I will spare the blow by blow details but capture the highlights.
First and foremost, there is a transition occurring from “the whole ankle is tight at every spot” to “this spot and that spot are tight and restricting movement”. I can now perform a movement and point to specific spots that feel stuck or restrictive. This reduction is very positive. I can narrow the focus to more specific aras.
I am able to do more physically now, although there are limits. I can indoor bike, deep water run, swim (although this more than anything shows my fitness is gonzo), and even a little indoor rowing (although the range of rowing movement is a bit limited by the ankle’s limits). I am mostly able to walk down stairs, although it can be annoying at times.
As my exercise capacity improves, it will force the lungs to work more which helps that side of my recovery. I am slowly closing in on the +3 month point on warfarin; when I hit 3 months, it means I’ve hit the minimum recovery window where I can be removed from warfarin. Each passing day, the risk of new issues continues to drop (it is pretty low now since the risk drops fastest early on). I will probably have to continue beyond 3 months, which stinks but will proceed as is needed to ensure full recovery.
I have a long way to go, no way to sugar coat that. But I have traveled a long road. I began PT on 11/29 and have been doing it about 7 weeks now. I have somewhere on the order of 1/2 the movement back or so (and as the movement improves, strength comes along with it).
All in all, trying to keep it in perspective.
So, a couple quick observations.
The ankle has expressed its disapproval for all things cold when walking. It likes warmth though. Walking and movement is easier than sitting or standing. I guess I have to wear a shark fin as I seem to do best when I keep moving constantly?
I noticed just last night that my left calf is regaining substantial strength, heel-toe walking is almost there. There is still a scar tissue wall preventing extension of movement (and I cannot walk normally downstairs yet as a result), but it is amazing to feel like I can almost push off my toes again. I use any trip up stairs to work that calf a little, as well as the work at PT.
Many miles to go before I run…
OK. I am letting myself feel happy today. It is allowed. Six weeks ago I began a process to become whole and well again. Today marked the most significant day yet.
I stood and walked with only my two feet under me. No brace. No cast. No crutch. No pain.
I am pictured above with Dr. Peter Wishnie of Family Foot and Ankle Specialists in central NJ. Once I finish my first race, I will have to get a photo op with both him and Dr. Dana Waters.
I have much work to do, this process is far from over. But to stand, to feel just my own legs supporting me, the one repaired foot able to move me around, to feel the muscles in both legs working again.
Oh, what a feeling.
Three thoughts for today.
First, tomorrow I get a checkup with the podiatrist. I think they will determine if I can step down out of the boot to the next level. Both nervous and excited.
Second, return to work is approaching fast now. First week, 1/2 time then full time, although the holiday weeks will make it a little easier. So hopefully, 3 easier weeks will help me ease back into the working world. I refuse to say “real world”, hate that expression, because quite frankly these last 6 weeks have been quite real, thank you very much 🙂
Finally, breathing. In the hospital, already a month ago (wow!), I was given a respirometer. It reads from 0 to 4.25 liters. On 11/14, I was able to get about 1.5 liters. Given learning curve and anxiety, let’s say I was about 2 liters. Today, I hit 4.5 liters (guessing since I topped out on its scale and kept going). That means on 11/14, my lung capacity was about 30 to 40% of what it is now, and yet my oxygen levels were very good without supplementation. Granted, some exertion dropped it down but still it was very good .. I guess all has not been lost with my fitness. I do worry a little, and will probably get a thorough heart exam, as my exercise capacity returns. Better safe than sorry.
But, the third point really makes me think that a good part of good running and endurance may not have ANYTHING to do with the legs, but good posture and breathing mechanics. I guess maybe what I learned from all this explains at least in part why I end up sucking wind in races sometimes, and feel that total body “anaerobic” feeling.
Day by day, step by step, the light at the end of the tunnel approaches.
Some miscellaneous thoughts…
I was walking through Stop & Shop today. As I crossed where a typical mid-store aisle met a main edge-of-store aisle, a man approached and we headed towards each other. With my boot on, I am not very fast. The man decided he could not wait for me to cross his path, so he darted in front of me as clearly whatever he was buying was more important than anything else, and I stumbled as I avoided walking into him. I let him know verbally what I thought of this, and he quickly scurried away, avoiding eye contact. That one was odd to me, but thinking about it, I probably did similar things to others. Now, I will be more sensitive, more courteous.
My disability is temporary. I am on the road to recovery to walking, then running, again. I won’t pretend like my situation compares to those far more severe, but I have come away with insight in the world of the disabled. The world is not an easy place for the disabled. I am amazed at the strength of those permanently and/or far more set back than I am.
I am amazed at how impatient people can be. Why is everyone in such a damned rush? Where is the fire?
I am amazed at how kind they can be as well. People, total strangers, have offered acts of kindness to me. That is the cool part, to see that there is good, to feel the good, and to know that I must return the good to others.
Over this past weekend, I met two people who had ankle injuries similar to mine. A woman’s jaw dropped as I named the two ligaments I tore, as she had torn the same two … 30 years prior. She showed me her ankles, one looked good, one looked horrible. She had NOT repaired it back then, now beyond hope, and she mentioned ankle fusion as her choice today. She said that she knew such surgeries like mine were hard to bear, but were absolutely the right choice to do it early while the joint can be restored.
The other person, a man, was screwed by the system (between jobs, COBRA foul up, etc.) but still did the surgery. His was a bit more involved, but he was mobile. He too said it was painful and tough, but worth it. He was walking quite normally.
I am amazed at how many foot/ankle injuries there are out there. Wow. Jared, a young athletic guy at the PT place, described the massacre he did on his ankle, and he is hopping around near the tail end of his full recovery.
At PT today, I was using the BAPS board, a device designed to help folks like me get ankles working again. For now, I have to tilt the device forward to 12 o’clock, back to 6, and side to side from 3 to 9. Because my foot was everted in the cast, 3 o’clock was virtually a gimmee. 9 was hard but I got it. Forward (open the foot, like one might do in a swimming kick) to 12 also worked. 6 o’clock was killing me, just could not get that foot closed up to tilt back.
Until today. A gentle and barely audible “tap” as the board tapped to 6 o’clock. I was happy. I could not get it within 1 inch of the floor just days ago. That 6 o’clock tap means the foot function that helps us walk is coming back to me. Nice!
This process is demanding patience, forcing me to set reasonable expectations and goals, and measure progress as the process unfolds. Hard for me, maybe the first time for me that a situation forced me to do … a life lesson?
Today’s post doesn’t have anything directly to do with running. It has more to do with the stuff that makes us who we are, that makes us alive.
I am sitting here in the living room, now about 3 weeks removed from the bilateral pulmonary embolism that I had. I am looking at where I sat that day struggling to breathe, where I lay on the floor, waiting for help after I called for help. On that day, the door was locked. Normally, we left it unlocked while I was recovering for SPECIFICALLY this type of emergency. The distance to open the front door to let people in seemed so far away, like I could not get there that day. When looking now, it is less than 10 feet. I think it took me about 10 minutes to get there on 11/14.
Those minutes are a blur, like I was there and not there. I don’t know actually how long things took. As I look and think now, I can see it all happening. Very strange. I can watch what I did, the parts that I remember.
Whatever that was, it is all like a blurry, not quite real dream to me now. Quite frankly, I think who I am now stepped forth in that event. I don’t know exactly who that is yet, but I do know this. I have been given a gift, a blessing. A part of me perhaps died that day, but I think that is OK. I think a stronger, smarter and more joyous me has taken his place.
I walked about today. I felt the muscles of BOTH legs working. It is a little easier, less painful to walk today. There is a little more oomph from the left side, just a little but it is real and stronger now.
I felt the sun and warm air on my face. I had to work a little bit to walk on slight slopes that I buzzed over in 10+ mile runs with ease. I felt connected to a life that maybe I had some disconnects with. I chatted with a neighbor about his new driveway that we put in (I am on the board here). I have chatted with a few people here, but I do not feel compelled to talk about me. It isn’t just about me me me. We live in a world where me me me is the norm, and I too do that. But maybe I can be a little less me me me and maybe, maybe just maybe I can make the world a better place if only but a little.
This gift of my life is a great one. I am here for a reason, have work to do still. Good work, not just get a paycheck work.
Running will be a part of my life, this I know. My heart and mind leap with joy that that day is coming closer to me. The part that is truly different now is why I want to run. Not to impress or keep up with anyone, or blaze fast times (although I won’t lie that I enjoyed that).
I want to run again simply because I can.
Rolf Arands, Runner 