Oh my! FAR too much to do – and worry about! And lots to catch up on…including one success amongst a pretty dire backdrop of illness and injury, and bleak moods and hopelessness.
It’s seems like a long time ago now, that little chirpy success in my training a few weeks ago.
Back at the start of the year, I decided to enter a half-marathon. It wasn’t intended to be integral to my training, I just signed up because I’d done it before and I thought it’d be good to have something to work towards…and yes, I signed up because at that time I was very low and I did my usual desperate “Let’s hope this serves as a graded intervention for m’self…”!
I’d had a few good sessions of running leading up to the half-marathon: nothing amazing, but I was managing to increase my distance (if not my speed). I felt reasonably ok about the event and almost looked forward to it…and then my ankle and little toe plotted revenge and decided to have a meltdown. Bizarre – no tumble, or trip, or stubbedness, no bruising, even…just a painful sensation that was similar to a sprain, and a throbbing li’l pinkie that ballooned in size. Six days before a half-marathon! Aaaargh!
After lots of ice, compression and elevation (of foot, sadly, not my mood), nothing had improved. My inner stubborn donkeyness kicked in and I refused to withdraw from the event.
Ended up running a PB in hefty sunshine, knocking 17 minutes off my previous best. I’d had a sense that I was running well, then I noticed the 5mile sign. I wasn’t checking my watch, and thought that I was up to only around 3 miles. Definitely a psychological boost! I was enjoying the wonderful crowds who’d turned up to support us all, and grinned as various superheroes whizzed past me (how on earth they manage to run at speed, especially in such heat, is beyond me. They have my utmost respect and admiration).
Oh yep, forgot to mention that my grotty tooth had developed into an abscess, and that I’d decided to run partly because I thought the pain of my tooth would cancel out the foot pain. It almost worked..!
At about 7-8 miles, I really started to hurt.
I think I managed such a good time (for me) because I just wanted it all over and done with. I was experiencing a combination of enjoying being able to run and be outside, and panicking inwardly because of all the crowds around me. I really wanted to get away from everyone, even though it was such a great, friendly atmosphere. And the pain from both the upper and lower ends of my bod were beginning to grate and hurt.
By the time I’d crossed the finish line, I was limping quite badly, the abscess had swollen massively, and I looked like a demented hamster with a wonky leg. But I was so chuffed about my time that I really didn’t care about what I looked like!
I saw the dentist the following day, was finally seen and sent away swiftly with antibiotics (Metronidazole) and a promise that the tooth extraction would be rescheduled for an earlier date (er, this hasn’t happened yet…). By now my tooth was black and I was also having problems with swallowing because my mouth was so swollen. But that’s all for another post, as I am definitely not happy with the treatment I’ve received from this dentist.
I then experienced massively horrid side-effects from the antibiotics. I’ve never had problems with other ABs, but these wrecked me: headaches, dry metallic mouth, nausea and sickness, cramps…nothing was staying in my digestive system. I felt as if I’d been in a fight, and ended up being out of action for 14 days. NOT what I wanted with the heavy phase of training looming…I’d been doing so well, and now this.
My mood plummeted too. The combination of foot and ankle agony, tooth pain, daft amounts of painkillers and revolting antibiotics really hit me – along with the panic of having so many days out of training. Depression really settled itself in…