De Ja Boot

So here I sit a little over two years to the day staring down at a familiar sight. Das Boot. My nickname for the Aircast I will wear for the next 2-3 weeks to allow my very inflammed posterior tibial tendon to return to some semblance of its normal size. I feel depressed but oddly accepting for my Type A nature. There is nothing I can do, really but wait. Nevermind that the very best running weather of the year is here now; that my participation in the Championship Series (I was number 2 overall) is over and that I can't even remember my last long run. The fleeting thought that it may have been my last makes me feel like crying.

The orthopedist seemed concerned but not overly so and everything I've read online indicates that I am catching this in enough time to "fix" it. But didn't I "fix" it last time? Why is it back? "Good question", says my orthopedist, "My guess would be you have a mechanical deficiency. We can address that in physical therapy but first we have to get past the inflammation first." Understood. Sigh.

The posterior tibial tendon is an important one. My orthopedist told me that it supports the bones on the inside of the foot including the ankle and holds the foot's arch up. If it "fails" as she put it, the treatment options are extremely limited. Foot reconstruction is about the only treatment option left and even that generally involves some sort of joint "fusion". That would mean that not only could I not run, walking without gait issues would be a serious challenge.

The good news is I can bike and swim. Having recently returned from Jamaica, I have my swimming chops back so I could certainly slog it out in the swim center pool lap after lap like some sort of hamster on a liquid wheel. Not excited about the prospect of this to be sure but it's an option. Biking season is coming to a close. I am a whimp when it comes to biking in the cold wind and usually opt for the indoor trainer in the basement. I use those long, gray biking hours to catch up on back episodes of shows I've missed while biking beneath the summer skies. These basement spins are usually offset by the promise of a long run - scooting through the woods, wind in my hair, fresh air in my lungs and plenty of time to just be. Unfortunately, I am many, many weeks away from even a one mile run let alone a long one.

How did I get here, I wonder? Apparently I didn't do something mechanically correct that ended up landing me in the same place. I am sure I did not stretch enough. I hate yoga and all the pretense that goes with it but I suppose I could have used some of those techniques to loosen up my aging tendons. Louise Hay, a very well respected medical intuitive and author of many books on healing your body by healing your thoughts, suggests that problems with the feet indicate an unwillingness to be flexible. I ponder this. I could certainly see the literal and figurative truth in that statement when applied to me.

But in what domain? I can't be "inflexible" in every domain of my life, can I? One thing that did occur to me this morning as I woke up from a dream about work (anxiety about things I haven't finished) was that for the past several years, I have been training to catch up. Catch up to my old running speed, low body fat, ability to fit in the skinny jeans or come in first in my age group. All of my exercise has been about getting somewhere. Whether it's the next win, next race, next half mile per hour faster on the bike, I am always working toward something. Where is the joy? There is no being in the present when you are constantly striving. Could it be that this physical manifestation of inflexibility is simply a way for the Universe to say "If it ain't joyous, you ain't doing it."? I don't know. But the fact that I am oddly calm leads me to believe that I must see the lesson in this for me once and for all. Or I'm in denial or both.

I am prone to inflexibility. It's in my "j" ness as a friend of mine refers to my high Meyers-Briggs "judgment" score. "J"ness is what gets things done. It keeps things moving in a positive direction with goals and deadlines and details. But I suppose there is a dark side as there is with anything. The "j"ness can rob you of the joy of the moment because it doesn't allow you to savor the smaller victory sometimes. There are also some other things that all of the "chasing" has kept me from. Painting, repairing and putting my house on the market so I can move on with the next phase of my life; going back to school for the same reason and doing something more with my evenings than training. Maybe if I don't have any concrete training goals, I can focus on exercise as a release instead on another "have to". Who knows. But as I log my journey through triathlon, training and life, there is something to be learned from this injury to be sure.

I am sad but open. Depressed but hopeful. Willing and compliant - at least so far.

Ok, Universe, I am listening. Really, I promise this time.