March 4th, 2011. Yesterday I reported back to the orthopedic doctor to get the cast removed (not really a cast, more like a glorified ace bandage that stiffened up). The first step was a new set of x-rays to assess progress. Everything seemed to be going well, at least to the doctor’s experienced eye…only looked like I had a bunch of new hardware in my arm (there is a plate and eight pins, fortunately all titanium so I shouldn’t trigger any metal detectors).
Freed from bondage, my hand was stiff, swollen and turning black and blue. The doctor stressed my upcoming physical therapy would involve stretching exercises that would result in a lot of popping and snapping noises I shouldn’t be disturbed by, and then started aggressively manipulating my wrist in all directions. Forget the popping noises, this had to be the most painful episode of my entire life and I had to remain sitting for a minute or so afterwards to avoid passing out.
Having the wrist immobilized for ten days after getting all sliced up in surgery apparently results in spurious tissue growth that binds everything up…and my physician was getting me back towards square one by busting up the unneeded bondage. In hindsight I’m glad he didn’t advise me what he was going to do and just get it over with, but goodness did it have me seeing stars.
Regardless, I was granted access to runways again and lost no time climbing back in the saddle. After lunch I went out for five miles, which I managed to complete in 41:20 for an 8:17 pace. Respectable, but clearly a retreat and the pace didn’t come easily as it had two weeks back. Beyond the layoff, this latest debacle has been somewhat traumatic and I confess to paying much greater attention to footfalls since the last thing I needed was to fall and require my wrist to ‘break’ another fall!
I was armored, however à Kim and I stopped at Dick’s Sporting Goods to get a wrist brace that was mandated by the doctor before hitting the road. Even though equipped with this protection, contemplating a fall made my tummy churn all through the run…
The monkey wrench tossed in from two weeks on the sideline has me scrambling to determine an appropriate running program for the last two weeks. Though I should be on the downside of training, I followed yesterday’s run with a fifty minute session today. Covered 5.9 miles for an 8:30 pace, a retreat from the 6.2 miles and 8:05 pace during the preceding fifty minute session, but this was a back-to-back session and with all the other issues I felt pretty good about things.
So Sunday I will attempt to fulfill the twenty mile course, though I won’t be running down to Carolina Beach and placing myself eight miles away from home at the furthest point. Rather, I am just going to run laps around the neighborhood so I will never be more than two miles from our doorstep. Given the pain I am still in and uncertainty around whether or not I am up to the challenge leads me to conclude this as a prudent plan.
Despite realizing my running guide stressed that any missed runs were not to be made up, it seems foolhardy to not even attempt something in the ballpark of a full marathon. This is chiefly a diabetic concern and even if this causes a worse time for the marathon I would rather gain experience at keeping myself properly fueled for the long hauls. I’m already cringing in anticipation of an awful pace…but so be it.
Over lunch today I met my physical therapist and was introduced to the routines I will need to perform every other hour for the next several weeks. Some of these are quite painful but I am scrupulously following details to steer towards a complete recovery. Have to express that I’ve been in considerable pain for some time now and it is draining. The entire build-up to the marathon where I’ve been driven to prepare and turn in a good time has been replaced by a simple wish to put this test behind me…
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