A New Chapter

I’ve been a runner for over ten years, most of my adult life actually.

Recently, I was training for my twelfth half marathon. It was my best training cycle to date! I was running faster than I’d ever run before – consistently, too. I only missed one training run, and it was a short Monday run at that. I didn’t miss a single long run, a single speed workout. Even if I had to pivot – shorten a run once or twice or move a run to a different day – I was determined. Because I had a goal in mind, and I knew I could accomplish it with hard work.

Last spring, I set a new PR, and it was my best race I’ve ever had! I stopped for one bathroom break, but otherwise my pace was consistent and steady the entire time. I actually felt GOOD when the race was over. I didn’t feel the normal runner’s bonk that would leave me feeling comatose the rest of the day. And I knew my training hadn’t been perfect. I’d skipped a few runs, my nutrition was not what it could be, and therefore I had a thought — if this can feel that good with that kind of training, JUST IMAGINE what I could accomplish if I really honed in on my training and my nutrition.

And so I did. And things were going so, so good. Not only was I crushing every single run, my nutrition was on point. I was hitting every macro goal, and I was losing a healthy amount of weight! While weight loss was not my first goal, I knew it would be a likely side effect of focusing on training and nutrition. I felt so good. I was confident, I felt strong, I wasn’t dealing with my usual digestive issues, I had so much energy!

Saturday, September 14 was my longest scheduled long run – 13 miles. And I was actually excited about this run! I couldn’t wait to test out my running gear, my fuel sources, and to see how I felt at the end of it. It was basically my test run before race day. I was so pumped as I laced up my running shoes and headed out that morning. I felt good. And then, at about 6 miles in, I tripped.

I literally just…tripped. And I fell. And I’ve learned that when I fall (because falling during a run does happen), to pivot toward the grass. And as I was falling, and as I was pivoting, I felt it — a pop in my left knee. I went down and it’s like I immediately knew, without a doubt. Something was wrong. I wasn’t going to be able to get up and shake this off like every other time before. This was not good.

I immediately started trying to call my husband. Over and over again, I called him. I knew it was likely he’d fallen back asleep. He’s one of the normal humans who sleeps in on Saturday mornings. But I kept calling. No answer. I called my mom. No answer. I called my husband again. No answer. I finally called my brother, knowing he lived close by and could come get me. He answered. I told him I’d fallen and couldn’t move my left leg. I needed help.

At that moment, some beautiful, wonderful, kind strangers pulled over and got out of their car to see if they could help me. I told them my brother was on his way. They stood there with me. I know they wanted to do more – I was crying. I was still trying to call my husband. They were offering to move me to their car, or call an ambulance…I kept assuring them my brother was close and he’d be able to help me.

Meanwhile, my mom offered to drive over to my house to wake up my husband. My brother came, and with the help of those kind strangers got me into his car and drove me to the emergency room. Thankfully, I just so happened to fall right across the street from our city’s trauma hospital.

Once I got checked into the ER, the wait wasn’t long before I was wheeled into a room. The nurses who did my initial checkup seemed optimistic — they couldn’t find any obvious break or muscle tear. There wasn’t much swelling. One of the nurses even reassured me that sometimes a simple sprain or muscle tear can feel even more painful than a break, and that’s probably what it was. The ER doctor came in, did his examination, and was also reassuring that it was probably nothing, but they’d do some X-rays just to be sure.

By that point, my husband had arrived, my brother(s) left (my other brother had driven to the hospital as well. My mom thought I said I couldn’t move my legs, and they were worried I’d been in a more serious accident. Reassured everything would be fine, everyone except my husband went home), and they took me back to another room to wait for a technician. My husband had to run home and let the dogs out, but hurried back.

After the technician came and took X-rays, we sat in that room for what felt like forever. My knee was really starting to hurt, so I agreed to take some ibuprofen (I am very particular about only taking pain medication if I absolutely can’t stand the pain). My husband and I were still convinced it was nothing, and we were making plans about getting home before the OU game (it is football season…), getting my leg propped up with some ice, and whether or not we’d still try to make it to our friends’ wedding reception that evening. It didn’t even cross our minds this could be worse.

So when the ER doctor reappeared and said I actually did manage to break two bones in my leg, I thought he was joking. It wasn’t until he kept talking that I realized he was serious — a fractured tibial plateau and a fractured fibula. He spoke fast about moving me back to the trauma area of the ER to wait to be seen by an orthopedic surgeon – I may need surgery, and soon. I was stunned. My husband was stunned. Even the doctor himself was surprised to see a break on my x-rays. But alas, a simple trip and fall resulted in a broken leg.

We spent a few more hours in the ER that day. Eventually, after being seen by a surgeon resident, I was wrapped up in a brace, given a prescription for pain medication, and told a surgeon’s office would reach out to me in the next few days.

When I think back on that day, I am amazed I kept my spirits so high. I was even contemplating if I could go to work until surgery was scheduled! It’s like the shock hadn’t worn off yet and I wasn’t fully processing just what I was in for.

It wasn’t until I was home and situated, and the days began to drag on, that the reality of my situation set in. I ended up having to reach out to another hospital – one that specializes in orthopedics – in order to get the ball rolling on surgery.

It took a little over a week from my injury to finally have surgery, and it’s been one week and one day since my surgery. It’s been 18 days since my fall. I haven’t been to work in almost three full weeks. And it’s been tough. I have had a lot of moments of utter despair and grief. Pounding my fists into my pillow, plenty of sobs, and plenty of the general “why me?” pity parties. I’ve watched countless hours of television, rewatched all six seasons of Schitt’s Creek, read two full books, done ninety sudoku puzzles, and countless crosswords. I’ve managed to stay pretty caught up on work and grading, and spent hours creating sub plans so my student don’t fall too far behind on account of all of this.

And while it’s been a challenge, I’ve tried to stay positive and remember the good things:

• It could always be worse 🙂 the fracture was minor, easily fixed with two pins, and there was very minimal damage to the cartilage in my knee.
• I’m already healthy and active, which will only help in my recovery efforts.
• My husband is an amazing caregiver. He is so patient with me, never failing to come to my aid when I text him, checking on me constantly, and reassuring me that this is but a temporary setback. He is keeping this house running all on his own and he’s doing a beautiful job.
• My tribe! The amount of people who have texted, sent me messages, sent cards and gift cards, brought food or flowers, or sent me little surprises to brighten my day has reminded me of just how many wonderful people I have in my life.
• My coworkers have been so supportive – printing off sub plans, making copies, handling things I can’t manage since I’m not there, creating a meal train, sending me well wishes, asking how they can help…it’s been never-ending. I’ve always said my workplace is like family, and we really are. In moments like this, I am reminded of that.
• By chance, other than two days, I’ve had the same substitute the entire time I’ve been out, and she’s been amazing at communicating with me and keeping me up to date on what’s happening in my classroom.
• My students have been so sweet and patient with me. Almost every email I get from a student asking a question begins or ends with “we miss you,” “I hope you’re recovering well,” “I hope you’re doing okay,” or some variation. Some of my former students even made me get well cards!
• I’ve had plenty of cuddles from my sweet cat, who barely leaves my side.
• It’s given me time to rest and reflect. Sure, I am having to pivot a lot of goals I set for myself, and this rehab journey will have it’s fair share of challenges. But it’s also allowing me to really take pause and think about what I want for myself, what goals I want to accomplish, and what else could be possible.

There are so many other wonderful things I’m trying to remind myself of and keep in the forefront of my mind. It’s going to be a challenging few months. I’m looking at another six to seven weeks of immobility of my left leg, and it will be another six months to a year before I’m running distances again. But that’s the one thing I keep coming back to – I will run again. This is not the end of the road for me.

I’m not great about keeping up with this blog, but it is my hope that I can document my progress here as I move forward with recovery. I can’t promise consistency, but writing has always been therapeutic for me, and is a great outlet when my mind feels jumbled or when I’m feeling particularly down. Also, who knows? Maybe someday someone will find themselves where I am today, and they’ll go to the giant interwebs looking for reassurance that things get better. I would love to be that reassurance for someone else.

So here’s to a new chapter. And it is just a chapter. One short chapter in the story of my journey. And it’s up to me to write how it ends…