Running In Place

Funny: frustrating? Funny: ironic? Funny: ha ha? 

Today I hit the whitewater.  Last week of the the Class IV-V north country spring run-off.  Good stuff.

(that’s not my gig, just a representation)

On the last rapid I went over, we all did.  Most generally, water isn’t too hard a hit when you just plop into it, so whether it was the rocks on the river floor or the 4 people who tumbled on top of me as the raft tipped my way, my left ankle/foot is fucked up.  I say ankle-slash-foot because the swelling and pain has not yet sorted itself out and so it’s mostly just one big swath of pain.  I don’t think it’s broken, I mean - I never have broken a bone proper so I don’t know, and I do think I have a pretty high tolerance for pain (it’s the catholic in me, we’re born to suffer), but I can wiggle my toes and I can bear weight (though I will confide to you that it hurts. like. hell).  So I’m RICEing like a good multiple-injury runner would and figuring that I will be making a trip to the doc tomorrow.  I suspect it’s a big ol’ sprain as I have had one of those before (unfortunately in the same leg). 

Right now I’m still adrenalized enough from the day (and have had enough beer and ibuprofen) to not be all bummed out that I just found my running rhythm again and am now, at least temporarily, fucked.  I mean, to keep it in perspective, I wasn’t going to let the spring season go by without taking this trip - and it was a good one!  You expect to get dumped in the (35F) water.  No harm, no foul.  Probably 9.9 of 10 don’t get injured.  Pretty much just me.  Go girl!

So, whatever.  Chances are I’ll be gimping in for an x-ray or somesuch tomorrow.  Chances are I’ll be volunteering for the next couple races.  I’m cool with that now.  Talk to me when the self-medication wears off.