Two Dirty Words

The triathlon world has its own language.  Transition is a place, not a phrase.  A brick is a workout, not a building material.  A draft is not a wind, but an illegal means to improve a bike split.  And a bike split does not mean that your bike broke in two.  It's the amount of time it takes you to complete the bike portion of a triathlon. 

We also have our own dirty words, specifically an "s" word and an "f" word.  Stress.  Fracture.

Last week, I started to notice some significant pain in my right foot arch.  I chalked it up to wearing heels a couple days in a row and ignored it.  Then on Sunday, my friends Michelle and Brandi joined me for my long run, which was supposed to be 12 miles.  The arch pain was there from the beginning but was very mild.  Around mile 7, the top of my foot started to hurt badly too.  I stopped running, and then I really started to feel the pain.  We were about as far from my house as we could be, and none of us had a phone.  We borrowed a friendly guy's cell and called Michelle's husband Chris to come get us.  He graciously plopped his kids in their truck and drove over to pick us up.  Thank you, Chris!!! 

Meanwhile, I started to panic.  I couldn't put weight on my right foot without a sharp pain shooting through the top of my foot.  Brandi has run a number of marathons and indicated that the symptoms I was having were similar to the ones she had when she was diagnosed with a stress fracture.  $#@*!

I got home and immediately called T3 Coach Maurice.  He recommended an asap visit to a sports doctor and also recommended 10-minute ice sessions at least 4 times/day plus a lot of ibuprofen.  He also was incredibly reassuring, convincing me that even if this was a stress fracture, I could *probably* still race the whole thing as long as I rested completely between now and race day.  I believed him . . . for about 5 minutes.  Then I went crying to Jody and told him it was all over, that this thing that has consumed me for the past six months was not going to happen.  It was a complete and total pity party, and despite my irrational sobbing and dramatization, Jody was wonderfully supportive.  He reminded me of what I often say to him - no sense worrying about things you can't control, or in this case, something you're not even sure exists.  So I tried to keep my chin up and not think about it, which was easier said than done. 

Fast forward to my appointment with Dr. Sellers this morning.  After about 20 minutes of tests for stress fractures, he confirmed that I DO NOT have one!  Amen!  He did determine that I have a collapsed arch and pointed out a number of differences between my uninjured foot and injured foot.  Then he spent about 30 minutes manipulating the foot to get my mobility back.  It's not perfect this evening, but it is better than before.  At least one cause of this problem is apparently some sort of imbalance in my hips and legs.   I've had a number of problems with my right leg over the past few years, and Dr. Sellers proved today that my right leg is much weaker than my left.  He had me use resistance bands to see how far I could lift each leg, and my left leg is about 20% stronger than my right.  Until this imbalance is corrected, he said I would continue to have problems with the right leg and foot.  So, I've got some butt-burning exercises to do 3 times a day, plus more ice and ibuprofen, plus some rest until the bruising on my foot heals.  But all in all, the prognosis is good, and I should be well, if not perfect, on race day.  Crisis averted, although not without a whole slew of dirty words that would be crystal clear even to the most novice triathlete.