Sports Injuries in Your Early 30s

“I wonder if I’ve ever cried at this cross street.” I’m leaving the third doctor's office in two days, finally addressing the pain that hasn’t left my foot in ten days. 

I bite my tongue until my eyes dry. 

“Fast girl spring” I joked with my brother last night. Having run hard through the winter, I was moving into the sunnier season feeling strong and feeling hungry. With my fourth marathon—and my first international one—on the calendar, I felt unstoppable. 

“I got through two weeks straight of work travel and never missed a workout. I was doing unhinged 9 mile treadmill runs at 11:00pm and crushing it.”

And then I went for a really long walk and I didn’t stretch and I probably didn’t wear the right shoes and I know all of this. 

I made a cake this weekend and I did everything wrong. To the point of forgetting to put the orange zest in the orange ginger cake until it had already been baking for ten minutes. I did everything wrong but it still turned out excellent. One of my favorites. I’m already planning to make it again. 

Sometimes you do everything wrong and get away with it.  

Other times you make a couple mistakes and it catches up to you. 

My high arches make me susceptible to lots of things. But I’ve been distance running for 2 decades. 

“The thing is I know better.”

When my peroneal tendon was an angry swollen red the day after the walk, I should have gone to the doctor. Or—when the pain didn’t subside—in any of the days that followed, that would have been a good time too. 

When I finally did, he was horrified and sent me for x-rays and a follow up the next day. That’s what I’m leaving now. A follow-up where I found out that it isn’t broken (sometimes we get away with things) but rather a nasty bout of tendonitis with a mandatory full activity pause. 

“I’ve been standing on the escalator this week. It takes FOREVER.” 

I’m not good at being sedentary. I don’t like a pause. I do not remember the last time I was proper sports-injury injured. 

I don’t remember the last time a doctor told me to not run for 4-5 weeks. 

I don’t remember the last time I didn’t run for 4-5 weeks. 

“If you don’t rest, it’ll take longer.”

The doctor has kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He listens as I walk through every detail of the pain. He asks me when my marathon is. 

It’s in 102 days. It feels a sudden impossibility. 

He asks me how often I run and I tell him. He asks me how far I go on those runs which I always find frustrating. “It’s not the same run every day,” I want to say and, because he has been so kind and patient, I do. I say “I do long runs on Saturdays and speed work on Wednesdays and on Mondays and Fridays I typically do between these distances but it also varies and…”

“What are your long runs?”

I tell him. 

“So you aren’t starting from nothing” he says. 

I bite my tongue until my eyes dry. Grateful, this time. 

“No.. I’m not.”

We go over the plan. As minimal walking as possible. That means taking the train to work, not the ferry. Ice and anti-inflammatory medicine. No running. Wear shoes, ideally with my running inserts, in the house. Don’t be barefoot. Lace ankle brace when walking. Be patient; be patient; be patient. 

I get to the train and text my friends an update. Everyone has wanted to know. 

“Please let me know what I can do to make things a little better! Happy to drop off vegan snacks and baked goods“

“Same same! Do you need me to pick up the pharmacy stuff?”

“Oh nooo that’s a bummer. I know you love taking the ferry”

“Let [us] know if you need anything at all!!”

“Shoes in the house gonna kill ya.”

“If you go stir crazy I have all the crafts that I can bring over! Or we can have another cozy reading party!”

“Here if you need me.”

“It will pass.”

“This too shall pass.”

When I don’t know what to do, I run. When I cannot run, I walk. When I cannot walk.. I learn to adjust. 4-5 weeks.

The doctor has me promise I understand that I cannot run and I do. I tell him I am too old to be pushing things. 

“I know better. I know it’s not worth making it worse.” 

And then I make my appointment for three weeks from now and I start to walk in the direction of the train before I pull over and take out my phone because I cannot walk just to walk. I need to get home and I need to do it efficiently and quickly and there is no walking just to walk. There is no skipping a station. And I am standing on the street corner and I am biting my tongue because I know that once I go home, I am just home. And I tip my head back because the day is so beautiful and because spring is my favorite and because I cannot run. And I cannot take the long way home. 

And so I take the first seat I can find on the train. And I text my friends. I let their words lift me for a moment. And then I do the only other thing I know to do. I open my notebook, and I write.