February 20th, 2011. I must have been saving up embarrassing moments for when I went public with this blog, guaranteeing full public airing. It is with massive chagrin that I share news that I managed to tumble down the steps in our garage and break my wrist Saturday morning!
As painful as the impact was, my immediate concern was fending off our dog, who considered my sprawled form a target for massive licking.
Kim took me to a nearby Urgent Care where I was x-rayed (confirming a fairly nasty fracture of both wrist bones with fragments), splinted and set up to meet with an orthopedic surgeon first thing Monday morning. The pain is rather incredible, though nothing to the chiding I keep giving myself over how I could have done something so stupid. The running program has suffered a big hit.
The pain of laying a fractured wrist into the sling is quite intense.
Despite a wristed development, I still got my Sunday run in. After all, it was an OFF week and I only had to go eight miles. Kim snapped a few pictures of the silly man out for a run with a splint on and away I went. Wore my sling even though I didn’t think it would work for running, figuring it would be a blessing to cradle my injured arm in the event I needed to punt and walk back.
I finally know what a ‘pod cast’ is…
Altered the route to head for my one mile loop, where I could bail if need be and not be too far from home. After I got going and started to shake the rust, I was psyched to get in five of the one-mile laps, which would have resulted in an overall distance around 8.5 miles. Despite occasional twinges from the wrist, which I held upright as I trotted along, the going was fairly smooth…until I started the fourth lap. I was 5.5 miles into the run and my arm started getting weary of the constant upright pose. Unable to keep the position steady, my wrist started sending mighty jolts of pain whenever it twisted (ever so slightly) or bounced around in time to the rest of my body.
It was a quick decision to abdicate the last lap, although I still ran a half mile beyond the usual finish line to log the full eight miles. But crap, if I am stuck wearing a cast for eight weeks and it is this painful, the marathon is in jeopardy. I am anxious to see the orthopedic doctor.
My wife is a terrific photographer…’sling shots’ are her specialty.
No comments:
Post a Comment