My Surgery Officially Didn't Work

One year ago I ran the Colfax Marathon for the second time.  Fourteen miles into the race I felt a strong pull on the inside of my leg.  It started in my groin and shot to my knee.  Each additional mile it pierced through my muscles growing worse, until finally around mile 21 everything went numb.  Crossing the finish line, the pain revived and walking became increasingly difficult.  I thought it was simply due to the race and things would recover after some much deserved rest.

I didn't run for three weeks.  When I returned to running, the pain returned.  Eight weeks went by and I couldn't run for more than a quarter mile without pain shooting down my groin.  So I sought the help of a physical therapist who did everything in his power to strengthen the muscles around my hip and groin.  Nothing worked.  Physical therapy seemed to make things so much worse, increasing the pain and inflammation to the point that I took on a strong limp just walking around the grocery store.  By August I'd seen two separate physical therapists and underwent a series of tests.  Everything led me to August 28, 2014 where I surrendered all doubt and let a surgeon reshape my entire hip socket and give me a new labrum to cushion the bones.  For a full month I was bed ridden.  I read my boys stories and helped them with their homework from my bed, while a machine moved my leg and a brace supported the structure.  Neighbors and friends brought us food and cared for our kids.  I was humbled and grateful.

Six months later I was supposed to be fully healed and able to attempt running again through a couch to 5K program, but the exact same groin pain returned every time I attempted running.  In every way I was stronger than ever.  All of this weight lifting and strength work defined new muscle in my legs, swimming kept my lungs fit.  But my groin still shot arrows of pain.  I went to a new physical therapist hoping a new set of eyes and hands were what I needed.  It helped a lot for two months and brought a lot of the inflammation in my hip down, but I still can't run.

It's time to face the facts.  The surgery didn't work.

If it worked, I wouldn't have the EXACT same pain every single time I returned to my sport.  So I started researching again and found other runners like me who'd gone through very similar events who had a sports hernia.  Essentially it is a tear in your abductor muscle that won't heal and every time you return to the sport that originally injured you, it will come back.  It will come back 90 years after the injury.  It never goes away.  Ever.  The only option is a quick 5 minute surgery where they cut the abductor away from your body.  Within 10 days you are back to a normal life.

I saw a sports hernia specialist yesterday.  "Your hip surgery was a waste.  You never needed it.  I'll put money on that.  What you have is a groin injury.  Not a hip injury.  I see this all the time in runners and it is really sad because you give up so much for nothing."  The doctor looked me straight in the eyes as he said this.  It's been a long year.  I've been patient and open-minded.  I've tried new things and put myself in new situations hoping it would make me stronger and better.  I've put faith in people that perhaps didn't deserve it.  And here I sat looking at a man with pitiful eyes apologizing for another man's mistakes.

I'm angry and so tired of this nonsense.  One full year of physical therapy, 8 months of rehabilitation and pain, and a false hope this would ever work.  But it wouldn't work.  My hip wasn't the problem.  So now here I sit with a new set of questions.  The doctor asked me if running is worth it.  "Have you considered never running again?  If you just don't run you won't need this.  If you want to run, I can fix you, but I fully understand after everything you've been through why you may want to wait."

Yes, I've considered never running again.  I've considered it every day for a year.  But I miss running.  I miss it so much it is stupid.  Running is after all, just a sport.  There are lots of replacements out there to get your buzz, why does it have to be the one thing that seems to reject me?  I love biking and I have 2 beautiful bikes.  One is a road bike that took me 21 peaceful miles yesterday along a beautifully paved river trail.  The other is a mountain bike that handles bumps and curves like a jaguar eager to pounce.  And while I love biking, it isn't the same as running.  Running is pure and transparent.  It isn't about technology and gears, it isn't about how big your tires are or how much your components weigh.  It's about you and a simple pair of shoes.  What is more pure than that?  When I run it is only my two feet carrying me places and nothing more.  It is independent and uncomplicated.  This time away for the last year has brought me to fully accept and appreciate that purity more than anything else.  I've worked long and hard at trying to find a replacement, but nothing exists.  Nothing is as simple as it is to run.

I ran 1.37 miles today.  I wanted my groin to hurt; perhaps as some sick sadistic punishment forcing the pain out of me, or maybe just to make sure I still enjoy it.  I ran fast and hard, making a point of passing another runner 100 yards ahead.  Screw taking it slowly and easing into things.  I don't know if I want to take my chances with another surgery.  The doctor told me I have a 90% chance of a full recovery.  If the surgery works, and he thinks it will, I will be able to run again with no limitations.  Have I come this far to quit trying?  Or am I so desperate for an answer that I've become childishly gullible and will accept any cure?  Either way, I miss my sport.


~Roadburner

Starting Over

I've been on a downward spiral lately, mentally and physically.  Every time I return from a physical therapy appointment or a visit with my doctor, I receive negative news.  While the first 3 months post operation were filled with fuzzy bunnies and progressive healing, the last 3 have been plagued with doubt and regression.  One week I'm told, "Hang in there.  In another month you should be able to try running again."  The next week we discover my range of motion is even worse and my pain now tripled.  The next thing I would hear sounded like this, "We don't know what is causing your inflammation to continue.  We can try another round of anti-inflammatories if you want.  You know, running just may not be an option for you anymore.  Try not to do anything that upsets the joint, including walking or biking.  It's time to scale way back." 

Honestly, I'm mostly at peace with the idea of not running so much again.  (Don't get me wrong, the thing I crave most right now is a 16 mile effort, but I can't focus on that, it doesn't help.)  However, being told the only way to heal is through taking endless amounts of stomach lacerating pills and not using my legs, made me feel like I was drowning.  My limbs were not amputated!  I still have full functionality of my parts.  They just hurt when I use them.  Not walking is not an option.

I want my life back. 

Last Thursday I was given two options.  The first was to get a cortisone injection in my right hip joint, hoping to reduce the inflammation.  My latest round of oral anti-inflammatory meds helped, but not enough.  When I walk more than a half mile, my hip flexors become miserable.  So the second option was to ride this out for however long it may take, hoping my hip stops hurting in the next year or two.  I came home completely defeated.  Hip arthoscopy was supposed to be a 4-6 month recovery.  "You'll be running again by Christmas.  It is not too much to think you can't run another marathon next May..." Now this could be a 2 year recovery, just to be able to walk normally again?  

Not liking my choices, I decided to go for a second opinion.  Today, I met with my original physical therapist who diagnosed me 9 months ago, without MRI or Xray.  I trust him tremendously.  After working with my range of motion and strength for an hour, he found a few stretches that he thinks will relieve my hip pain.  I told him swimming makes all the difference in the world and he said that's because it's an extension exercise.  So he prescribed a series of stretches to perform every other waking hour for the next 6 days.  He believes we can reduce my inflammation and return my range of motion back to normal in the next few weeks, without using any anti-inflammatory drugs!

I was on the right track with swimming and he warned against stopping my 1-2 miles each day in the pool.  My body literally craves the water and that one element may make the difference between a full recovery and a limited one.  If we can get the pain and inflammation down in the next few weeks, we will start rebuilding my strength slowly and progress to biking again.  He told me not to stop walking.  That too is an extension exercise and it will provide really nice information on whether these stretches help or not.  In the next 2-3 weeks, I should be able to walk one mile without pain.  He believed it very possible; I needed that boost in faith. 


~Roadburner

Forget the Experts - I'm Goin' Solo

One month ago, my surgeon told me to run.  However, my defiant body doesn't give a crap what a doctor says.  I tried it three times, each a week apart, and only for one mile of running/walking.  My hips were so sore the day afterwards, I decided it wasn't worth trying again for at least a month.  This last month challenged my mind more than my body.  What's gotten sincerely old is everyone telling me, "Be patient, you're healing.  It will happen."  Never seeing dividends after the investment especially at the promised points along the calendar infuriated me.  Each week, my surgeon and physical therapist became more and more surprised as to how my range of motion keeps decreasing and the entire area remains inflamed. 

No, I am not doing too much.  I followed the instructions of the experts very closely.  I've taken this healing very personally and I've listened to my body more in the last 4 months than I have in my entire life.  I find it funny that nobody comments on someone's training regimen until they get hurt.  And once that person is injured, it's time to throw it their face, reminding them often they did this to themselves.  Suddenly, everyone and their mother is an expert on your healing and knows what's best, because you've clearly lost the ability to think for yourself.  (You're injured, remember?) 

I've learned that exercise is a large part of my identity and onlookers reminding me to be patient, or hang in there, is as condescending as telling a child not to play.  Exercise is how I relax and stay stable.  Not being able to sweat for a extended length of time is frustrating and excruciating.  I love running, but I've learned to adapt and take on new activities.  To me, that is the absolute definition of perseverance... patience.

Two weeks ago, I decided to say, "Forget the experts.  It's my body."  Clearly what they tell me, doesn't work.  For four months I've focused my attention to spinning on a stationary bike.  Some days it feels really good.  Others, I can't walk my kids to school after the workout.  I lay awake at night in pain.  It's a dull ache that slowly builds throughout the night like that annoying princess and her damn pea.  Now I'm that complaining brat, who survives off a few moments rest each night.  Damn.

Last June, I decided to learn to swim freestyle.  The first time in the pool I looked like a drowning chicken, so I enrolled in a private swim lesson to teach me the basics and hopefully a starting point. 

I survived the humiliation and came out with hoards of advice.  Seven months later, I still drop my arm a bit when I breathe from the opposite side.  I am slower than most taking 20 minutes to cover a half mile, but I've been persistent and I've improved.  I'm comfortable in the water and can breathe from either side.  My pool workouts are becoming less cardio efforts, and more of a sustained fat burn. 
 

After my private lesson everyone looked around to see if there was someone ready to drive me home.  I couldn't understand why until I realized they saw the entire lesson on the waiting room television.

Swimming doesn't hurt.  So for two weeks I've dedicated myself to swimming 4 days each week for only 30 minutes.  I wanted to get out of the pool feeling refreshed, not exhausted, and leave on a good note.  The days where I stay in the water for 60+ minutes, I usually fumble out of the side of the pool almost smacking my chin against the concrete lip.  Part of listening to my body is not exhausting it, but building strength.  It's a balance I've needed for a while.

Instead of doing my strength exercises 3-4 times a week, I complete the routine only twice.  I continue to roll out my IT Bands, hip flexors, and glutes nightly.  For the first time in 4 months, I haven't hurt at all for 48 hours!  I feel good.  I walked my son home from school today and that familiar pull and instability in my groin wasn't there.  Hopefully I'm swimming in the right direction.


~Roadburner

     

Swimming and Standing Naked

I've accepted I'm the slowest swimmer in the pool.  Once I realized my mediocre capabilities, my form improved exponentially.  No longer do I thrust my arms forward with the speed of an incapable dolphin.  Nope, you'll see me in the middle of all the lanes, the row boat.  Slow and steady, fighting the turbulence of the surrounding Speed Crafts. 

In the effort of trying to reteach myself how to swim, I focus on quality and time over the amount of laps swam in that stretch.  I plunge my hands slightly down and out, finding their comfortable floating spot as described by the Total Immersion DVDs.  Looking down at the bottom of the pool I feel each glide before catching up my hand to the other and starting once again.  I am slow because I don't kick much.  Just a couple flutters yield enough balance as I switch arms in the water.  This technique works great with my new hip.  I don't challenge it too much, but I get a consistent and low impact workout. 

The pool was crowded today.  Every lane was occupied and somehow I lucked out remaining alone in my trajectory.  A woman next to me loved my incompetence.  She kept waiting for me to catch up to her at the end of each lap, easily a half a lap ahead of me at any moment.  Once my legs pushed off the wall, she would thrust herself full throttle and paddle like she was being chased by a great white.  I felt the pull of the wake behind her and thanked her quietly for the help as I let her go.  She needed a win today and I was more than happy to oblige. 

The locker room, on the other hand, was desolate.  Only one other woman took residence in the huge room.  Somehow her naked body stood right in front of Locker 14.  I pardoned myself, asking for a quick second to grab my shoes and bag of clothes out of the locker since her breasts leaned 2 inches away from where I needed to reach.  She smiled, stood up straight, and without taking a single step backwards, allowed me 6 inches to pull my belongings free.

Immediately, she began talking.  It was a booby trap!  Don't get me wrong, she was unbelievably pleasant and while I have no shame over my body, I don't feel entirely comfortable holding philosophical conversations with another woman's breasts a foot away from my dripping body.  She faced me with complete disconcert over her openness asking me how long I've been swimming and whether I enjoyed the water today.  Now I was trapped.  It would have been rude to walk away mid conversation so I turned my body slightly and changed while discussing my transformation from a drowning chicken to a slow and steady oar. 

She explained how she feels happier when she swims everyday.  Swimming provides health and a sensible mind.  Because I am still learning how to perfect my stroke, she asked if I'd heard of the swim club that meets at another recreation center in our town, 3 days a week.  They have a coach and each day they practice new drills, helping their cardio vascular and muscle strength.  While I was fully dressed by this time, she was still standing there topless offering me a formal invitation.

I won't lie, I'm intrigued.  Something about this exposed conversation entertained me.  I've been surrounded by runners for so long, ones who clear their noses in public and pee on the side of the road, I've learn to accept a once unacceptable list of rules in order to belong.  Now that I'm venturing into new lanes it would be nice to meet more people with similar interests.  I could work on my form and learn more about the swimmer's culture.  I must look enough of the part to warrant the invitation.  Although, nude conversations are a stretch, even for a snot-rocketing runner. 


~Roadburner

Shards Full of Irony

I patiently awaited my 12 week post operative appointment like a pregnant woman longing for her 20 week ultrasound.  I needed the all clear.  Not only did I need to see the giant chunk they'd carved out of my femur was healing, but I wanted to be told that I could start safely weight training and increasing my fitness level again.  If weight training went well, it would be the precursor for running. 

My femur still looks like a gremlin took a jagged bite out of an apple.  But my surgeon reassured me that was normal and things were healing beautifully.  He pulled up the before and after x-rays to let me see for the first time exactly what he'd done.  "See how your bone pre-surgery looks like an electricity pole?"

"Um, sure.  It's definitely sturdy."

"Yeah, that's bad.  Your bone around the socket should look like an hour glass.  So if you compare the before and after you can see how much bone I took from you."  He laughed.  "You are definitely a few ounces lighter!"

My post operative x-ray looks like Barbie's hips.  She's got the curves...

While things are healing well, I've been completely miserable for the last 3 weeks.  Both hips ache and burn.  At night when I sleep, they throb incessantly with a persistent piercing pain.  I've complained weekly to my physical therapist, asking what I am doing wrong and what I can do to fix it?  But nothing helps.  I've pulled way back on physical activity, but things remain inflamed.  While rotating the joint around the socket, my surgeon was shocked by the level of irritation.  I cringed as he circled my knee around and around, measuring my mobility. 

As a comparison, he checked the other leg.  When he rotated my knee inwards I yelped.  Somehow, my left hip joint deteriorated faster than my right.  For about a month now, driving and sitting have become increasingly difficult.  While my right hip can finally handle a 45 minute drive up the mountains to visit the in-laws, my left side didn't want to risk being left out of the burden.  Without knowing it, I've been pampering my left leg, altering my stride as I walk to handle the impact on two broken hip joints.

Repairing muscles applies a lot of pressure to the sockets.  Just like physical therapy made my right hip worse, the act of healing my right hip post operation, is killing my left.  I knew this could happen but the reality of it is inconceivable.  "Once I hit the 12 week mark I will be halfway.  It will be smooth sailing from there."  I am not halfway anymore.  I am less than a quarter of the way to full recovery. 

The doctor took an x-ray of my left hip.  It's the same giant pole, marked with a nice peppering of bone material that's been scraped clear of the joint.  The shards sit near the socket, evidence of bone on bone abrasion.  "I'm really sorry, Jen.  I know this isn't what you wanted to hear today, but I can't allow you to run, or do anything until we fix your left hip.  This is a congenital defect and I warned you, your chances were quite high that both legs would need to be operated on, we just didn't predict it would be this soon.  Your condition is significant.  Just 1mm of extra bone can make people miserable, yours is quadruple that."

He put me on a large dose of anti-inflammatory drugs to try and settle things down on both sides for the next two weeks.  The next step will be to get an Arthrogram MRI on my left hip to see what the damage looks like on a tissue level.  Because I love 7 inch needles, I am really looking forward to it...  He told me not to worry too much about things yet.  I don't have to schedule it now, but the sooner I do, the sooner I can get back to a normal life.  "Take some time to think about it.  This is major surgery.  What I did to you was just short of a hip replacement.  I know this wasn't easy on your kids, and you've worked really hard.  I want to you be active again and pain free.  Once a labrum flares up, sadly there's not much we can do except surgery to permanently fix the bony bumps.  Because your left hip is weak, it will affect how well your right one heals."

Obviously, if I rehabilitated my right hip and finally earned the spot at a starting line, I would be crushed if I had to pull out because my left hip failed.  Honestly, I'm relieved it's rearing it's ugly femoral head now.  Had I run a race and consequently needed surgery on the left hip afterwards, I would question my sanity of trying to ever run again.  This proves it is genetics, not running, that's caused it.

I'll get back out there, it's going to be longer than I expected.  But when I hit the trails again, for any distance, the victory will be sweet.


~Roadburner

Runner's Purgatory

Having an exercise addiction sucks.  The suck ratio multiplies exponentially when injured.  Most normal people would embrace the time off the hamster wheel and proudly show off the pounds gained while they continue to squeeze into their now useless Lulumon pants.  (I've gained 6 pounds by the way.)  But everywhere I look, I am assaulted with beautiful images of happy people frolicking through the gorgeous countryside.  Why is Fall so much more beautiful this year than ever before?  Because I can't run.  That's why.  It taunts me as I gaze longingly from the window of my recreation center as I hammer aimlessly at the cumbersome pedals of my elliptical. 

Ellipticals are purgatory.  They are the closest thing to mimicking what running actually looks and feels like without applying the real pressure to your joints.  I lunge my foot downwards and around in aimless circles pretending I am somewhere else.  Anywhere else but here, listening to the Treadmill Kicker snorting away, throwing his sweat all over my elbow.  Somehow he manages to kick the front cover of the belt drive every time he takes a step.  How does he not notice that?  It jolts him awkwardly and punches everyone's ears from across the room.  I've starred at him at least 10 times and I've been here exactly 3 minutes, 8 calories. 

I can't ignore the impulse.  I need to compete, to feel the blood pulsing through my brain, sweat seeping from my dry pores.  I pick an easy target.  Sorry lady, you might be 85, but that level 2 resistance won't hold up today.  You are going to loose.  Elliptical victory is mine.

Somehow the flat screen positioned in front of my machine is stuck on cartoons.  I try not to watch.  How ridiculous, a 30-year-old injured woman finding delight in the Sprout Network, but I can't look away.  Chica's singing and dancing are so flamboyant, my iPod Shuffle easily fills in the gaps.  My elderly competitor enjoys the ease of a woman's cooking magazine.  Highlighter in hand, she is armed to multitask, preparing for a Fit-Family Thanksgiving.  How does she do that?  I can't read when I bounce.  Am I bouncing too much?  Maybe that is my problem.  No, that's not my problem.  That is Treadmill Kicker's problem.  He ricochets, clashing violently with the machine.  At some point he will over-kick and things will deteriorate.  Chica pulls me back.  Oh, isn't that cute?  She is wearing a squirrel costume!  A chicken pretending to be a squirrel, nope this will never get old.

Click here if you want to dress Chica...

To my right are huge plate glass windows, 50 feet high and over 40 feet wide.  Straight ahead are men pumping iron admiring their pulsing flesh.  I can see myself in the mirror from afar but I look away.  I never see myself when I run outside, unless I steal a glance in the windows of a parked car or store front.  That's okay though, everyone does that.  I am only checking my form...  I try to pretend to be somewhere else, somewhere far away from the new guy that took residence on the rowing machine and thinks perpetual grunting creates power.  I direct my attention back towards the windows.  The wind rustles the remaining leaves on the trees and I wish I had wind in my hair instead of a fan that is never on. 

Thirty minutes later my competitor put up a good fight.  She circled 8 recipes, burned 127 calories and lasted 20 minutes.  I on the other hand, put in the extra ten minutes, burned 311 calories, and watched Chica transform from a squirrel to a mountain lion. 


~Roadburner

Swim lessons aren't just for kids.

My physical therapist, Kevin, told me to start swimming for one hour, twice a week.  Problem is, I haven't swam laps in 20 years or more.  Mom and Dad, thanks for the swimming lessons, but sadly I don't remember much.  My first attempt in the pool was utterly humiliating and I knew I needed a lesson to get started.

Last Friday, I walked into the SwimLabs swimming school in Highlands Ranch, Colorado.  This is where my oldest son takes swim lessons so I got the private instructor at a reduced cost.  The school consists of 4 tiny pools.  Each one has a current running down the middle.  Ideally, when you swim you shouldn't travel at all, unless the current smacks your floundering body into the back end of the pool. 

While I sat in the waiting area, 10 kids ran from one side of the room to the other.  One bratty kid threw a bouncy ball at a wall and narrowly missed my head repeatedly.  I glared at him and his dad to no avail.  "Can't they see I am a nervous wreck?"  There were live feed television sets along the upper wall where parents watched their child's entire lesson without having to approach the swim floor.  "Enjoy the show everyone!  I can guarantee this will be good."

Once called back, I met my instructor.  Amy made it clear from the start that she had no sense of humor.  Either that, or she was pissed she had to work with an adult. 

"Show me your freestyle.  That way we can know exactly what we are starting with."

"Yeah, I don't think that is a good idea." I cowered.  "It is ugly."

She assured me that was okay, but when I stuck my head in the water and propelled myself 3 strokes before gulping back a ton of water, I saw her face.  She displayed a nice mix of, "Holy shit.  Really?" and "Now what?"

Deciding that working on my side breath was a good place to begin she told me to hold onto a bar while the current propelled the rest of my body backwards.  She repeatedly reminded me to keep one goggle in the water at all times while I took my breath, but the water current kept whipping waves high into my shoulder, water boarding me at every breath.

Amy became increasingly frustrated and saw we were getting nowhere.  Each pool is equipped with mirrors and multiple cameras where instructors record your every blunder.  For at least 15 seconds at a time she recorded my half attempt at a freestyle, then would replay it so we could observe my humiliation real time.  "Keep your legs parallel to the water."  "Look straight down."  "Don't jerk your head around begging for air."  "That's nice, but this time try not to slap your arms down so, um, violently." 

While we compared my crude video footage to that of Olympic swimmers on the internet, Amy accidentally left the water camera aimed perfectly on my crotch.  Every parent and child in the waiting room got a 5 minute long peep show.  You're welcome everyone! 

For the next 15 minutes we continued taking video footage of my pathetic paddling.  In that time Amy exhausted every idea she used on 5 and 6 year old kids.  Snorkels, "playing catch up," kicking drills, floating, etc... 

We were both relieved class ended.  Honestly, how much longer could that degradation continue?  After shaking hands wearily and saying our goodbyes, I headed into the waiting room to gather my belongings and find a changing room.  Literally every parent and child watched me with a hushed sorrow as I entered.  "Okay, guys.  I know it was bad.  But really?  Don't judge.  At least I was brave enough to try."  I smiled at them kindly and even waved at a few kids wanting to prove I had nothing to be ashamed of.  Inside however, I howled from pure humiliation. 

The changing rooms were tiny, which was fantastic because I took the opportunity to collect myself.  My room sported a floor-to-ceiling mirror which finally showed why everyone gawked as I left my lesson.  My image didn't look like someone firing all cylinders.  Those poor observers weren't sure whether to appear proud of my feeble efforts, or question if I was hearty enough to drive home. 

~Roadburner

Staying original. It is a week of new experiences.

Cheers to trying new things. 

First off, my dog demonstrated a new trick on Father's Day. After spending a few hours at brunch with my in laws, my neighbor rushed over to me literally freaking out.  "Jen, did you get my texts?"

"No, sorry.  I've been really busy and haven't checked my phone all morning."

"Yeah, well your dog is on the roof.  I've been trying to get him down for 3 hours.  Every time I go near your house, he freaks and I am worried he is going to fall!"

I thought this was a joke so I just looked at him very blankly.  I looked out on the roof.  Nope, no dog.  My neighbor and I have a pretty light-hearted relationship, so I thought this was a new prank.  That's when he whipped out his phone and showed me a series of pictures he flooded my inbox with over the last couple hours.  Nope.  Not a joke.

My crazy dog suffers from extreme anxiety.  Desperately wanting beer and an egg skillet, he launched himself through the window screen and got stuck on the roof.

Monday morning rolled along and after a painful physical therapy appointment I headed out for a three mile run.  It didn't go well.  I ended up on the side of the trail, wallowing in pain and self-pity, wondering why the heck I am doing this.

Somehow that self-loathing session landed me in the pool on Tuesday where I decided I would buck up and strengthen all the stuff that Kevin swears is broken about me, which I am finding is quite the ledger.  I lasted 15 minutes.  That stamina was with great thanks to my half-choppy breast stroke.  I tried multiple times to glide across the water effortlessly with freestyle techniques, but I would get 3 or 4 paddles through the water before I started choking down water and I inevitably panicked, which of course made me drive my feet downwards.  Once I realized I couldn't touch the bottom anymore, I panicked like a drowning chicken.  Humiliated, I was well aware of the girl next to me completing lap after lap and all of the parents watching their kids during a swim lesson.  So mid-flail I switched back over to the breast stroke with a look of pure insecurity, "Yup.  Totally what I was looking for.  This is going as planned."   I belong on the trails, not in water.

This beached whale doesn't want to return to the pool.  However, my groin pain resonates from the hips, therefore I need to work on hip strength and stability and I'm told swimming is the best exercise.  Swimming also allows my body the opportunity to increase its aerobic capacities without overworking my legs.  My physical therapist promises that once I learn to swim efficiently, the gains in my running will be exponential.  So, I am headed to SwimLabs today for my first private lesson.  Yes, there will be 3 other classes going on, all with small children.  No, I don't have any dignity left.

Speaking of dignity, Kevin (PT) poked the last shreds of it away in the most timely manner this morning.  Some days I feel like we are making great progress.  The next day I wake up and I am in so much pain that I can't run a few yards.  This push and pull is wearing on my spirits so Kevin suggested we make the groin sore today.  He wanted me to work for about an hour stressing the area ever so slightly so that when it came time to do his typical massage on the areas, we would know exactly where the pain initiates.  Our findings were really interesting.  The pain actually ends in the groin.  That's only a byproduct.  My pain starts along the outer reaches of the gluteus.   When he pushed on my glutes, I felt it in the groin.

So, he dry needled my butt today.  In 5 places.  And my groin.  In 2 places.  If you've ever had your butt electrified, it truly is an original experience. 


~Roadburner

It's going to be a long road...

Today it hit me how long of a road this recovery really might be.  Up until this point I've remained undeterred and optimistic, thinking I will get back to my previous mileage in the next few weeks.  But today, I started questioning what the point to all this really is.  When I showed my physical therapist, Kevin, my training schedule for the REVEL Rockies Marathon, August 17, he paused and said, "Let's give it two more weeks to see how you are healing.  After that we will bring up the mileage again but you have to demonstrate some real changes before I can suggest you start training as normal again."  This took me a moment to process.

He put together a two week schedule to help me ease back into training 6 days a week but I was shocked at what he wrote:

Sunday: 3 miles (yesterday. CHECK!)
Monday: 3 miles (CHECK!)
Tuesday: Swim 60 Minutes
Wednesday: 4 miles
Thursday: Rest/Stretch
Friday: 5 miles
Saturday: Swim 60 Minutes

The next week looks exactly the same but I am to run 4 miles on Tuesday instead of 3.  Sorry, Kevin, but 15 miles in one week is not 50+ miles a week.  I am starting to think this next race is a pipe dream.  Maybe I would heal better if I let it go and focused on shorter distances for the next few months.

On another note, I haven't swam freestyle in at least 10 years.  And the last time I did, I made it 5 laps before I was so out of breath I floundered around, gasped for air, and desperately longed for a life jacket. 

So I am changing my focus. 

1. I don't own an athletic one piece suitable for swimming laps.  I don't own any goggles.  And better yet, I need to flounder around a pool for 60 minutes tomorrow.  So, after my youngest son wakes from his nap, we are going shopping this afternoon.  
2. I called a local swim school to help me swim more efficiently.  This will be humiliating being the only adult in a pool with a bunch of summer swim camp kids, but it will be less embarrassing than being rescued by a lifeguard on my third lap.  I asked for a private lesson...
3. I put away the REVEL Rockies training plan I'd created weeks ago.  I can't keep looking at it.  The pressure to heal is not helping my mood and I can't rush this process.  My goal is to come back stronger, not band-aid the problem and return to this place in a couple months.
4. Continue my physical therapy sessions and my daily strength programs that Kevin designed specifically for my injury and long-term goals.  
5. Put my pride away.  Running 15 miles a week is still 15 miles a week and that is better than nothing.  Plus, I am being pushed into new opportunities, forced to expand my horizons.  This could be a valuable lesson that will better my character.  

Here are my hip stabilizing exercises in order (Do these at your own risk.  This routine was specifically designed for my injury.  Most of these exercises you can find online if you search running hip stability.  If you are injured, always seek the advice of a doctor first.):

• Dog Pee Squat - 30 reps every hour, every day.  Yes.  That's a lot.  Oh, by the way, I finally told Kevin what my name is for this stretch and he almost died laughing.  He couldn't look me in the eyes for at least 20 minutes today. 

 

•  One-Legged Bridge (30 per leg, 1xday)

 

These are harder than they look.

• Clam Shells with Resistance (30 per side, using a green band, 1xday)

 

 

•   Heal Squeezes (30 per side, 1xday)

 

 

• Monster Walks - Stand with band between ankles and step out at a diagonal with one foot.  Bring the other foot up to meet your front foot.  Continue alternating feet as you stay in a partial squat, working your way 30 feet out and back.  Do two sets, once a day.

 

 

•  One Legged Hip Rotators - Holding onto the green band stand on one leg.  Rotate your hip and chest to the outside, away from the band.  Keep your entire core straight.  (20 per side, 1xday)

You won't rotate much, but you will feel it in your glutes.

• Side Lunges - Stand with your knees slightly bent, core tight.  Step to the side and use the bent leg's strength to push back up to neutral.  (40 per leg, 1xday)

 

• Core Work - Before I started going to PT, I began a simple core workout.  My PT wants me to continue this daily on top of my running and swimming workouts.
• Middle crunches (neutral position) - 60 reps 1xday
• One legged crunches (I put one leg over the other knee and put the opposite elbow to my knee) - 60 reps per side 1xday
• 30 push-ups (2 sets of 15, 1xday)
• Superman holds.  (Lay on stomach and keeping core tight, lift both arms and legs off the ground.) Hold for 60 seconds, 3 reps, 1xday
• Plank holds - Hold for 60 seconds, 2 reps, 1xday
• Rolling out hips, legs, lower back, glutes with a foam roller 1-2xday

 
I am seeing progress, but I have a lot more work to do.  I've tried to stay very focused and upbeat but it is impossible to not get frustrated along the way.  Two miles away from home this morning, my eyes became red and my face hot in frustration and anger.  "Seriously, what is the point?"  After cursing myself out for a good 20 minutes, I decided the point is not to be a quitter.  I know that sounds really childish, but just because it gets hard and you get pushed entirely out of your comfort zone doesn't mean you earned the right to throw in the towel.  I am stupidly stubborn, and honestly that is enough.  I am going to learn how to swim.  I am going to continue to incorporate strength and stability work into my daily routine.  I am going to be grateful for the mileage, even 15 miles per week for a while.  When I get to the other side of this, 1 month, 2 months, or 6 months from now, I will be stronger.  I will be faster and more confident than I was a month ago when I was in the best shape of my life. 

Kevin reassured me that most people who experience an injury almost always come back stronger.  Not only do you fix what was broken in the first place, but you strengthen your entire body and your resolve.  He said, "Sometimes, an injury is the best thing that can happen to someone because it forces them to address those weakness, break free from routine, and start better habits from the ground up."  My resolve isn't broken, just a little pissed off, and I can work with that.


~Roadburner

Groin Woes. How much would you endure to cure your nether region pain?

Twelve miles left of the Colfax Marathon and my groin ached exponentially as I trotted along an uneven surface, my right leg at least 4 inches higher than the left.  After 6-7 miles of this pulling pain, it slowly went numb and I only noticed it as a problem at mile 25 and walking back to the car.  My poor husband and friends had to walk about a mile with me limping like I recently underwent a hip replacement surgery.  The blister in between my toes on the right foot made my waddle even more pathetic, as my husband asked repeatedly, "Would you prefer we just bring the car to you?"

"No thanks, that's clearly a pride issue at this point."

A few hours after the race, I had a sports massage that focused 100% on my legs.  The next day, I wasn't sore at all and managed stairs beautifully.

The Hanson's Marathon Method that I followed prescribed a full two week break from running after the race.  Not even a slow recovery jog would be appropriate so I hunkered down and decided some core work that completely left my legs out of the picture would be appropriate.  Nine days after the race, I had the shakes so bad a stranger would have thought I was coming off of a drug induced high.  So I ventured out for a short 3 mile run to test out the system.

One mile in, I noticed the same pulling that I experienced during the race.  I've never had this problem other than the race, but it is a feeling that's hard to mistaken.  I wanted to run through it but I kept asking myself what further damage I might be inflicting on my body by ignoring this pain, permanent damage in the nether regions is never advised.

I let another week slide by while icing and avoiding any impact on my legs or hips.  Fifteen days after the race, I tried again with worse pain.

I figured, "Screw it!  I just ran another marathon.  Give yourself permission to heal."  My family was leaving for Disney World in a few days and I had no desire to run alone on hot, humid streets at ungodly hours in a strange place, with a sore groin.

Owen loves Mickey and Minnie but when we got there, he was so star struck he just stared at them in disbelief.

Apparently, I didn't behave myself.  The day we returned from Orlando my husband told me to go on a run as soon as we got home.  Once again, the painful pulling on the inside of my leg became so severe, I grimaced just walking home the rest of the way.

That's where my physical therapist comes in.  Meet Kevin.  I don't like doctors.  They aren't bad, but I don't like fixing things medically that can be fixed naturally with a little rest and a lot of ice.  I thought I had a strained hip flexor.  All the symptoms pointed to that, but it should have improved after a month of rest.  I felt like I had no other choice but to seek professional help.  Kevin found that I have cartilage caught in my inner hip socket, causing the muscles around that point to seize violently when scraped.  He thinks we can move the cartilage out of the way by repeatedly moving the joint and stretching the surrounding muscles.

He prescribed a stretch that relieves 75% of the pain after a few reps and 100% for 20 minutes at a time after a ton of reps.  I call it the Dog Pee Squat because it literally looks like a dog on a hydrant.  Elevating my right (injured) leg on a bench or bed I bend my leg at a 90 degree angle.  My right foot rests behind me out to the side and my left leg stands planted solidly on the floor.  Then I lean into the left leg, squatting into it slowly and pausing for 3 seconds.  I'm supposed to do 30 of these Dog Pee Squats every hour, 50 before and after a run, and 20 after each mile of the run.  I get to run 3 miles every day, but never more than 3 until the pain is completely gone mid-run.

After doing 10-15 of these, I can spread my left leg out further and get a deeper stretch, but this shallow stance is painful enough to start each set. 

Because the stretching helped, Kevin ruthlessly thought sticking needles into my groin would also help.  Sure, it makes sense.  Stick a hot poker into a muscle that has never seen the light of day, and of course it will spasm out of control, trying to escape from the insanity.

The best way I can describe the "treatment" was Kevin pinched my muscle as if trying to measure my fat content in gym class.  When I squealed in pain, he found the right spot to stick his needle.  Rolling the muscle between his fingers, he inserted the tip, stuck it in there really far and wiggled it around while continuing to massage the muscle.  He was trying to find a "trigger point" deep within the muscle, which once found, it jumped around violently and sent unpleasant vibrations throughout the muscle.  It burned and ached.  The sadistic bastard did it 6 times.  (By the way, I really do like Kevin.  But needling my groin left me testy.)

Afterwards he asked how I felt.  I told him my groin was just electrified, so all considering I felt pretty violated.  All day my muscles in the right inner thigh have been tired and spasm suddenly.  He warned me this would happen and actually meant progress.  By twitching the muscle, it should release and the pain will subside.

God, I hope he is right because I could do without galvanizing my privates, ever again.


~Roadburner