My days are packed with running-related journo stuff, cross-training sessions, medical appointments and the work I have to do in order to pay the bills, of which there is a lot these days. But it’s bad timing.
Here’s the rundown for anyone following along at home:
Injury: Yesterday I got my diagnosis: osteitis pubis (inflammed adductor tendon) and sacral stress fracture (break in my lower pelvis). The latter is healing on its own. The former needs some help. I didn’t want to ask when I can start running again. I didn’t want to hear the answer. I’ll ask next week. I was initially glad to get the news — at least it’s not a tear that requires surgery — but plunged into a few hours of despair later on. I’m better now. But I’m not thinking about it too much. I just plow through my gym workouts and ignore the big picture.
Partay: Tonight I go to the Runner’s World party in mid-town. I’m not a party person, but I would like to meet some people I only know by name, byline or email. My date is Coach Sandra, who is generously chauffering us both there in her leaf-green Volkswagon bug.
Mi Familia: Tonight my sister also blows into town, but I’ll miss her. But tomorrow I meet up with her, my dad and my stepmother for some good old-fashioned steakhouse fun in the Meatpacking District. Then we all head downtown (way downtown) and hotel it overnight.
Gawk and Talk: On Sunday I arise at 5:30AM 8:00AM and, if anyone in my family is actually awake, bid them adieu. Then I train it back uptown and spend the morning watching the elites run the marathon. That’s the gawk part — comfy tables to sit at with appropiate eating utensils so they can gawk at the onscreen access’ on three giant television screens with a bunch of other losers. We’ll be getting real-time splits and probably all kinds of other statistics. Then around 1:30 I will wander out to the Post-Finish area, meet up with RW photog. Stacey Cramp and force myself to be extroverted and loud for around an hour and half. I feel bad accosting people right after they’ve raced 26.2 miles (I know I often want to kill anyone who tries to talk to me during that time), but I’ll try to look for people who don’t look homicidal or suicidal.
Impose and Collapse: Then I go to a friend’s place nearby to borrow her office in order to transcribe, edit and send off my interviews later in the afternoon. The rest of the day is unscheduled. What’s left of it.
Healing is Expensive and Tedious: On Monday at 9:15 I go to the office of an orthopedist whose services I can’t afford. But I’m paying for them anyway. He’ll give me a Platelet Rich Plasma (PRP) injection in my adductor tendon to jump start its healing. I also hope to get hold of a bone stimulator machine (no giggling) from the first doc. Another friend recommended Bone Up (again, stop giggling) supplements, which are speeding their way to me via Amazon.com right now.
Lassoing the To Do List: I won’t be able to exercise Mon, Tue, Wed of next week, which is good because I’m slammed with work again. My “real” work and my “fun” work. The real work is under control, but the fun work is so far behind I can’t stand it. I’ve lost all momentum with Houston Hopefuls and need to pick that work up again soon. I have two major interviews with Big Running Names on the horizon that I need to prepare for, along with numerous other little projects. One of the interviews is of a backward-looking nature, the other forward-looking. That’s all I’ll say for now. But I think they’ll both be good if I don’t screw them up.
Busman’s Holiday: No trip to the Dominican Republic later this month to report on a 10K there. They didn’t want to foot the bill. I’m disappointed, but a little relieved too as the travel would be a new source of stress and interruption in training. We’ll be working through Thanksgiving to hit other project deadlines, and that’s fine because preparing a huge Thanksgiving dinner for two people is kind of pointless. Especially when one of them’s a Brit.
Filed under: billat, elites, everyday life, injury, racing | 6 Comments »
Races Like a Girl 