Here’s this week’s Past Deadline, published in The Perth Courier on Feb. 14/13.
High fives and wahoos all ’round
Back in July 2009, I revealed in this here space that I had embarked upon a new exercising adventure, thanks to my good friend Heather, who lives in Calgary.
That was the dawn of my indoctrination into The Cult of Running™, which was a brief and torrid affair.
See, Heather and I share some motivational issues when it comes to staying on the healthy diet and exercise bandwagon. She’s a great one for encouragement, though.
She had posted a “Super Beginner Learn to Run Plan” on her blog back in 2009. I lamented that I wished I, too, could be one of those graceful, calorie-burning runner types.
I was never a good runner as a kid. Long-legged and lanky (yes, there was a day when I looked as if I truly needed many cookies to sustain me), I never mastered my breath. I looked like a windmill and generated a lot of puff.
Heather encouraged me. She urged me to get some good shoes and, when she came to Ontario to visit family that July, we took my inaugural run.
The beginner plan is a walk-a-minute-run-a-minute scenario. Those first 18 minutes led to many more runs over the next two years.
Then, in August 2011, my right foot had a nervous breakdown. For many months, walking, never mind running, was a painful thing. Apparently I have silly feet. Orthotics have helped, but I still can’t push it.
I have struggled to find a way to replace running, which I found to be the Best! Stress! Reliever! Ever! Y’all may recall how I lamented about my lack of enthusiasm for cycling (“I’m gonna die!) and I may have offered up lame-ish excuses about scheduling swimming and disliking gym, and blah blah blah.
Heather of Calgary to the rescue with her enthusiasm! Two months ago she started a private fitness group on Facebook and invited a bunch of her friends to join. The aim is to post a message in the group about our “daily” fitness activities. (So far they haven’t kicked me out of the group for not fitnessing daily.)
One of the things I liked about running was going off on my own and trying to beat my own bests while listening to my “Run Forrest Run” playlist. (Say – has anyone seen my iPod? I think my desk ate it.)
Solitary running was good, but chatting with others about exercise is great. Plus I am very vain and I like to talk about myself. No really!
There are some very active people in the group, which is inspiring. Fortunately, I am comfortable enough with my lethargy to not feel intimidated.
Meanwhile, Heather is awesome at prodding and prompting, too. If you have shown no sign of movement after a few days, she’ll ask you what you’re up to before calling 911.
The best thing is that this group is really supportive. When I post something saying the only exercise I did all week is shoveling, I get cyber high-fives and wahoos, which makes me want to try harder.
So let it snow! (Okay…maybe not.)
Actually, as exciting as shoveling is, I am much more enthused about the fact my foot is tolerating power walks. Apparently my long arch appreciates the fact my ample weight is not crashing down upon it with every running step. Walking is gentler.
I’m walking farther and faster these days (High fives! Wahoos!), so there is hope for me yet. Maybe, if I am careful, I could work up to the Kilt Run this summer. Or maybe a Kilt Run/Walk. Or just a random walk while wearing a kilt.
Whatever! Exercise is good! Let’s shovel!
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Past Deadline: The Rareness of Water
Sometimes it rains, but mostly it doesn’t. Lately. You may have noticed.
When it does rain and I step out into the subsequent sauna-like heat, I am overwhelmed by the sense that nature has exhaled – leaving a grateful breath behind.
I think we could probably count the number of decent rain showers this summer on one hand. Maybe two. After one such rain, I headed out for a run. (This on its own is a Big Event as I don’t really run much anymore thanks to Stupid Foot™ – it’s more of an occasional treat. Like lobster.)
Anyway, around suppertime it had rained and stormed and the wind had torn apart other parts of eastern Ontario. In the evening I slowly plodded around town and soaked in the scents – the fragrant flowers, the moist earth, the wet pavement. There was a palpable relief – albeit short lived.
Rains like that may be enough to make some flowers and random patches of grass happy, but it does little for crops and trees. The earth is truly cracking open in some places – gasping for water.
As we drove along a highway recently I marvelled at the grass that was not merely yellow, but crispy brown, and the crops that, in some cases, were green, but way too short. Some trees are changing colour already, but instead of rich reds and oranges they are a disturbingly burnt brown.
I frequently travel past swamps and creeks that are usually lush with greenery and, presumably, wildlife – frogs, turtles, fish and fish-loving birds. Those same oases are now drying up – with large wetlands reduced to a tiny ribbon of ever-shrinking water and some creek beds as barren as roadways.
I get the sense that if I were to even look at the countryside the wrong way it would catch fire.
It is alarming.
When the infrequent rain does come, it tends to be preceded by warnings and arrive with thunder and lightning and squall lines and microbursts and tornadoes, which I daresay is not helpful.
There has been a flurry of articles recently about heat waves and drought being one symptom of climate change. The one good thing about this strange summer has been the absence of people mocking “global warming,” at least around here. With no significant number of cool, wet days, there isn’t as much of an opportunity to say, “So much for global warming.”
It’s little comfort, though, in the face of climate change. Extreme weather across the country. Drought here. It takes a long time to change a climate, but we’re doing a bang-up job.
Even if someone doesn’t “believe” in climate change, it seems to me that changing our ways and reducing the amount of carbon-burning fuels released into the atmosphere isn’t really a bad thing. Unless you are in the oil and gas business.
Undoubtedly, lots of millionaires and billionaires could be created by switching to new technologies and cleaner forms of energy. Cleaner air and water is good! We have the know-how; we just don’t seem to have the will to change and cut the shackles.
Someone told me recently they had encountered a person from a country on the other side of the world who was amazed/appalled that we do our bathroom business in clean water. It IS pretty dumb when you think about it. There are ways to set up systems in our buildings that use “grey” or untreated water for such things, but it’s costly.
I wish it were easier. People need incentives. As time passes, however, I can’t imagine that we’re not going to have to change our ways significantly.
Be careful, folks, and use the water wisely.
Published in The Perth Courier, Aug. 9/12
When it does rain and I step out into the subsequent sauna-like heat, I am overwhelmed by the sense that nature has exhaled – leaving a grateful breath behind.
I think we could probably count the number of decent rain showers this summer on one hand. Maybe two. After one such rain, I headed out for a run. (This on its own is a Big Event as I don’t really run much anymore thanks to Stupid Foot™ – it’s more of an occasional treat. Like lobster.)
Anyway, around suppertime it had rained and stormed and the wind had torn apart other parts of eastern Ontario. In the evening I slowly plodded around town and soaked in the scents – the fragrant flowers, the moist earth, the wet pavement. There was a palpable relief – albeit short lived.
Rains like that may be enough to make some flowers and random patches of grass happy, but it does little for crops and trees. The earth is truly cracking open in some places – gasping for water.
As we drove along a highway recently I marvelled at the grass that was not merely yellow, but crispy brown, and the crops that, in some cases, were green, but way too short. Some trees are changing colour already, but instead of rich reds and oranges they are a disturbingly burnt brown.
I frequently travel past swamps and creeks that are usually lush with greenery and, presumably, wildlife – frogs, turtles, fish and fish-loving birds. Those same oases are now drying up – with large wetlands reduced to a tiny ribbon of ever-shrinking water and some creek beds as barren as roadways.
I get the sense that if I were to even look at the countryside the wrong way it would catch fire.
It is alarming.
When the infrequent rain does come, it tends to be preceded by warnings and arrive with thunder and lightning and squall lines and microbursts and tornadoes, which I daresay is not helpful.
There has been a flurry of articles recently about heat waves and drought being one symptom of climate change. The one good thing about this strange summer has been the absence of people mocking “global warming,” at least around here. With no significant number of cool, wet days, there isn’t as much of an opportunity to say, “So much for global warming.”
It’s little comfort, though, in the face of climate change. Extreme weather across the country. Drought here. It takes a long time to change a climate, but we’re doing a bang-up job.
Even if someone doesn’t “believe” in climate change, it seems to me that changing our ways and reducing the amount of carbon-burning fuels released into the atmosphere isn’t really a bad thing. Unless you are in the oil and gas business.
Undoubtedly, lots of millionaires and billionaires could be created by switching to new technologies and cleaner forms of energy. Cleaner air and water is good! We have the know-how; we just don’t seem to have the will to change and cut the shackles.
Someone told me recently they had encountered a person from a country on the other side of the world who was amazed/appalled that we do our bathroom business in clean water. It IS pretty dumb when you think about it. There are ways to set up systems in our buildings that use “grey” or untreated water for such things, but it’s costly.
I wish it were easier. People need incentives. As time passes, however, I can’t imagine that we’re not going to have to change our ways significantly.
Be careful, folks, and use the water wisely.
Published in The Perth Courier, Aug. 9/12
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Past Deadline: A Comeback?
I know you have all been dying to know how my Stupid Foot™ is doing.
I mean, after all, aside from periodic nasty references to this disagreeable appendage of mine, I haven’t written about my collapsed foot in earnest since January.
I figured with the Perth Kilt Run coming up this Saturday, it was a suitable time to offer a progress report. I won’t be running this year, unfortunately, but I have made some strides, which I am now going to blow all to heck by mentioning it in this here newspaper.
For new readers and for those of you who had pleasantly forgotten, last August I developed a darling case of tendonitis (read: burning, gripping, horrible agony 24/7) in my right foot. When the searing pain did not subside, I ventured to the doctor who sent me to physiotherapy.
Physiotherapy became my happy place. They made the tendonitis go away. They also diagnosed what I had been calling “a wonky foot” as “severe biomechanical failure” with the “long arch collapsing onto the tendon” and something about “posterior tibial tendon dysfunction.”
They tell me I was born this way, and it caught up with me. (Three cheers for turning 40.)
I was fitted for orthotics. They were lovely for a while, but new symptoms began to appear. I went back to visit my orthotics guy.
The next set of orthotics arrived in early April, which coincided with the fact I had been walking less because our family got a second car. (I had some work in Smiths Falls – it’s a really long walk.)
The combination of less walking and altered orthotics seemed to be working. As I eased into more walking, the pain stayed under control.
I am more than two months into the new set and there are many days that I don’t even think about my foot.
Progress!
Sometimes, as I strapped on my Rocket Shoes and blasted my iPod and increased my walking program, I would sneak in a jog for a block or so.
I didn’t die.
In fact, the foot felt good. The hip complained, but this has improved, too.
I have missed running. More than anything else it clears my head.
Last Tuesday evening I attended a particularly long (four hours) and stressful Perth council committee of the whole meeting about police costing. Maybe you’ve heard about it?
I won’t get into the details here as I am certain you can read about it in other parts of this newspaper.
Anyway, after sitting for so long and needing to digest the results of the meeting, I set out for a walk.
Actually, to be perfectly honest, I knew I needed to go for a run (don’t tell my physiotherapist, please) to prevent my head from blasting into orbit.
It was a modest, slow run. It was less than four kilometers and interspersed with stretches of walking.
Oh. My. God. It felt good.
The foot was fine. The hip was quiet. Best of all my head is still on my shoulders.
In fact, the thing I had the most trouble with was my breathing – getting into that running rhythm again for the first time since last July.
Two days later my legs hurt, but it was from exercising dormant muscles. It felt good!
I am not going to push this. I am going to treat my foot with the utmost of patience and care. But it sure is nice to know that my favourite stress releaser may not be gone forever. I suspect I may need it again.
Good luck to all of our Kilt Runners this Saturday! Break that record! And maybe someday I’ll be able to help out again.
Published in The Perth Courier, June 21/12
I mean, after all, aside from periodic nasty references to this disagreeable appendage of mine, I haven’t written about my collapsed foot in earnest since January.
I figured with the Perth Kilt Run coming up this Saturday, it was a suitable time to offer a progress report. I won’t be running this year, unfortunately, but I have made some strides, which I am now going to blow all to heck by mentioning it in this here newspaper.
For new readers and for those of you who had pleasantly forgotten, last August I developed a darling case of tendonitis (read: burning, gripping, horrible agony 24/7) in my right foot. When the searing pain did not subside, I ventured to the doctor who sent me to physiotherapy.
Physiotherapy became my happy place. They made the tendonitis go away. They also diagnosed what I had been calling “a wonky foot” as “severe biomechanical failure” with the “long arch collapsing onto the tendon” and something about “posterior tibial tendon dysfunction.”
They tell me I was born this way, and it caught up with me. (Three cheers for turning 40.)
I was fitted for orthotics. They were lovely for a while, but new symptoms began to appear. I went back to visit my orthotics guy.
The next set of orthotics arrived in early April, which coincided with the fact I had been walking less because our family got a second car. (I had some work in Smiths Falls – it’s a really long walk.)
The combination of less walking and altered orthotics seemed to be working. As I eased into more walking, the pain stayed under control.
I am more than two months into the new set and there are many days that I don’t even think about my foot.
Progress!
Sometimes, as I strapped on my Rocket Shoes and blasted my iPod and increased my walking program, I would sneak in a jog for a block or so.
I didn’t die.
In fact, the foot felt good. The hip complained, but this has improved, too.
I have missed running. More than anything else it clears my head.
Last Tuesday evening I attended a particularly long (four hours) and stressful Perth council committee of the whole meeting about police costing. Maybe you’ve heard about it?
I won’t get into the details here as I am certain you can read about it in other parts of this newspaper.
Anyway, after sitting for so long and needing to digest the results of the meeting, I set out for a walk.
Actually, to be perfectly honest, I knew I needed to go for a run (don’t tell my physiotherapist, please) to prevent my head from blasting into orbit.
It was a modest, slow run. It was less than four kilometers and interspersed with stretches of walking.
Oh. My. God. It felt good.
The foot was fine. The hip was quiet. Best of all my head is still on my shoulders.
In fact, the thing I had the most trouble with was my breathing – getting into that running rhythm again for the first time since last July.
Two days later my legs hurt, but it was from exercising dormant muscles. It felt good!
I am not going to push this. I am going to treat my foot with the utmost of patience and care. But it sure is nice to know that my favourite stress releaser may not be gone forever. I suspect I may need it again.
Good luck to all of our Kilt Runners this Saturday! Break that record! And maybe someday I’ll be able to help out again.
Published in The Perth Courier, June 21/12
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Past Deadline: Ye Olde New Year's Revolutions
Here we are on the brink of 2012 and it’s time to reflect upon the year and pledge some sort of allegiance to revolutionizing life and making lists of promises that may or may not be broken, etc.
As I have reflected in the past, it all depends upon the type of list you make, right?
Last year, after eons of making grand lists that promised everything from the standard eating better and exercising more to the more aggressive saving of the world, I decided to aim for an achievable goal that was, nevertheless challenging. So I pledged to complain less or, at least, to use my inside voice when I do it.
How did I do? (Hahaha.)
This year, I think I might go back to some of the old standards, particularly that exercise one. THAT has definitely been more challenging since August, when ye olde right foot collapsed.
Stupid, stupid foot.
Last year I was quite pleased with my activity level. Although my running “program” had its ups and downs, I was doing it. I completed the Kilt Run (8K) and survived! Even better, because our family has been attempting to make do with one vehicle as Groom-boy commutes to Ottawa, my hoofing it about town resulted in the loss of a few pounds.
All that came to a crashing halt with the foot crisis. Walking became difficult; running is currently impossible. And while foot-related exercise may again be possible someday, I need to consider some alternate way to get the lead out.
It’s funny, a couple of years ago in this space at around this time of season I rambled (Me? Ramble?) about how I thought 2010 was going to be a nasty year because I was turning 40 and, well, you know what that means!
At the time I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but maybe the rumour is true – maybe your body really does start to fall apart once you hit that grand decade.
Within the last several months I have noticed my grey hairs are turning white, too. Yeesh. If I do not persist with my aggressive Hair Maintenance Program™, it looks as if I have pressed my forehead up against something painted white. This might be acceptable in 10 years or so, but I’m not ready yet.
Yes, 2011 brought a few physical changes to be sure.
In fact, that could be an underlying theme for the year – change. The remarkable thing (for me) is that I think I am maybe kinda sorta learning to accept the constancy of change. (That doesn’t mean I have to like it.)
In addition to my stupid foot throwing off my beloved routines, there have been many work-related changes this year, too. Some of these have been a bit unnerving for Type-A girl over here. (I like to eat my supper at a certain time, so don’t dare come to my door and ask to see my furnace, thanks.)
While I understand that change happens and can even translate into exciting new opportunities, sometimes it is just, well, difficult and unwanted.
It’s easy to immediately panic when facing an unwanted change, but that doesn’t help. I can’t tell you how many times I have said to my children or to students in my classes who are facing an unpleasant prospect: “Don’t panic.”
Now that I am firmly ensconced in my 40s I suppose the time has come to do the grown-up thing and practise what I preach. Take a deep breath, make yourself a cup of Calm The Heck Down™ tea (usually containing chamomile) and just deal with it.
So, to recap: Resolution 1: Get more exercise, even if it means not using your feet. Resolution 2: Continue aggressive Hair Management Program™. Resolution 3: Don’t freak out in the face of change (which also applies to white hair). Resolution 4: Save the world.
Had to throw that last one in just to make it interesting. Wish me luck.
(I would like to extend my very best wishes to long-time Perth Courier colleagues/friends who are about to embark on new adventures. All the best as you embrace your own changes. It has been wonderful working with you for all these many years!)
Published in The Perth Courier, Dec. 29/11
As I have reflected in the past, it all depends upon the type of list you make, right?
Last year, after eons of making grand lists that promised everything from the standard eating better and exercising more to the more aggressive saving of the world, I decided to aim for an achievable goal that was, nevertheless challenging. So I pledged to complain less or, at least, to use my inside voice when I do it.
How did I do? (Hahaha.)
This year, I think I might go back to some of the old standards, particularly that exercise one. THAT has definitely been more challenging since August, when ye olde right foot collapsed.
Stupid, stupid foot.
Last year I was quite pleased with my activity level. Although my running “program” had its ups and downs, I was doing it. I completed the Kilt Run (8K) and survived! Even better, because our family has been attempting to make do with one vehicle as Groom-boy commutes to Ottawa, my hoofing it about town resulted in the loss of a few pounds.
All that came to a crashing halt with the foot crisis. Walking became difficult; running is currently impossible. And while foot-related exercise may again be possible someday, I need to consider some alternate way to get the lead out.
It’s funny, a couple of years ago in this space at around this time of season I rambled (Me? Ramble?) about how I thought 2010 was going to be a nasty year because I was turning 40 and, well, you know what that means!
At the time I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but maybe the rumour is true – maybe your body really does start to fall apart once you hit that grand decade.
Within the last several months I have noticed my grey hairs are turning white, too. Yeesh. If I do not persist with my aggressive Hair Maintenance Program™, it looks as if I have pressed my forehead up against something painted white. This might be acceptable in 10 years or so, but I’m not ready yet.
Yes, 2011 brought a few physical changes to be sure.
In fact, that could be an underlying theme for the year – change. The remarkable thing (for me) is that I think I am maybe kinda sorta learning to accept the constancy of change. (That doesn’t mean I have to like it.)
In addition to my stupid foot throwing off my beloved routines, there have been many work-related changes this year, too. Some of these have been a bit unnerving for Type-A girl over here. (I like to eat my supper at a certain time, so don’t dare come to my door and ask to see my furnace, thanks.)
While I understand that change happens and can even translate into exciting new opportunities, sometimes it is just, well, difficult and unwanted.
It’s easy to immediately panic when facing an unwanted change, but that doesn’t help. I can’t tell you how many times I have said to my children or to students in my classes who are facing an unpleasant prospect: “Don’t panic.”
Now that I am firmly ensconced in my 40s I suppose the time has come to do the grown-up thing and practise what I preach. Take a deep breath, make yourself a cup of Calm The Heck Down™ tea (usually containing chamomile) and just deal with it.
So, to recap: Resolution 1: Get more exercise, even if it means not using your feet. Resolution 2: Continue aggressive Hair Management Program™. Resolution 3: Don’t freak out in the face of change (which also applies to white hair). Resolution 4: Save the world.
Had to throw that last one in just to make it interesting. Wish me luck.
(I would like to extend my very best wishes to long-time Perth Courier colleagues/friends who are about to embark on new adventures. All the best as you embrace your own changes. It has been wonderful working with you for all these many years!)
Published in The Perth Courier, Dec. 29/11
Friday, December 23, 2011
Past Deadline: Striving To Be the Rare Uncollapsed
You may have heard I have a sore foot. Possibly I have whined and complained somewhat incessantly about it.
Things are muuuuuuch better than they were. In August, I was basically lame. Now, after physiotherapy fixed a raging case of tendonitis and orthotics are teaching my feet how to be normal, there are lots of times when I can walk pain free.
To quickly recap, I developed a weird pain in my right foot in August. This led me to my doctor, then to a physiotherapist who determined I had a rather nasty case of posterior tibialis tendonitis brought about because the long arch was collapsing onto the tendon. It appears I have “severe biomechanical failure” in both feet, although the left one hasn’t gotten as angry as the right one. Yet.
As interesting as this all sounds (stop yawning), a collapsed foot is much more fun to talk about than it is to walk upon. So you can imagine how much fun that must be!
Anyway, physio helped tremendously and the orthotics are starting to make a difference. Still, the progress is slow. Even though it has been suggested that someday I may be able to get back into running, I am starting to have serious doubts.
At a recent event a couple of us were lamenting how much fun we were having (ha) now that we have entered our forties. One woman reported having hot flashes. I chimed in with the fact I now sport orthotics.
“I am starting to think that collapsed feet don’t actually get better,” I said.
A nurse was standing beside me. “No, no they don’t,” she said matter-of-factly.
Possibly a look passed over my face because she added the word “rarely.”
I have avoided checking Dr. Google on this matter because I am not sure I am ready to hear for certain that the jig is up – that my aspirations to be a prima ballerina are kaput and my dream of being a foot model for anything other than a medical journal is done.
Besides, I should put that week into context.
I am not terribly athletic. I continue to be amazed that I took up running at all. It is hard. I am not a glamorous runner. Sometimes it hurts. (Ironically, it usually wasn’t the feet that were sore, but I now know that the feet are connected to, well, everything.)
Anyway, the best thing about running for me is the fact it clears my head and makes me feel happy. All I need is 5K a couple of times a week to accomplish this. I also love running because I can go when my schedule allows it, which can be tricky.
The fact I haven’t run since July 24 – or even had a decent power walk – makes me cranky.
So on the evening of Nov. 27 I went on a super-fast, long-strided, loud-music-playing, orthotics-wearing, heart-pumping, 2.7K walk.
It felt sooooo good.
Even though I iced my foot as soon as I came home, I paid for it, as I knew I would. I don’t regret it, though. Besides, it was a new and different kind of pain, which was intriguing (when you are obsessed with your foot).
I was still paying for it when I had the conversation with my nurse friend.
I bounced back from that discouragement after chatting with my lovely physiotherapist a week later. I admitted to her that I had probably pushed the boundaries a bit with my mentally-therapeutic-but- pedalianly-abusive power walk.
She was undaunted, however, and has encouraged me to start a walking program – but to ease into it. (Duh.) I am also working harder on my exercises. These include such exciting things as standing on tiptoes while squeezing a small ball between my feet, as well as toe push-ups, which are harder than they might sound.
Most importantly, I am going to try to be more patient. My orthotics guy told me it could take several months before the bad days diminish. I am only about halfway into “several.”
With patience and a lot more toe push-ups, maybe I will be lucky enough to be one of the “rarelys.”
Published in The Perth Courier, Dec. 15/11
Things are muuuuuuch better than they were. In August, I was basically lame. Now, after physiotherapy fixed a raging case of tendonitis and orthotics are teaching my feet how to be normal, there are lots of times when I can walk pain free.
To quickly recap, I developed a weird pain in my right foot in August. This led me to my doctor, then to a physiotherapist who determined I had a rather nasty case of posterior tibialis tendonitis brought about because the long arch was collapsing onto the tendon. It appears I have “severe biomechanical failure” in both feet, although the left one hasn’t gotten as angry as the right one. Yet.
As interesting as this all sounds (stop yawning), a collapsed foot is much more fun to talk about than it is to walk upon. So you can imagine how much fun that must be!
Anyway, physio helped tremendously and the orthotics are starting to make a difference. Still, the progress is slow. Even though it has been suggested that someday I may be able to get back into running, I am starting to have serious doubts.
At a recent event a couple of us were lamenting how much fun we were having (ha) now that we have entered our forties. One woman reported having hot flashes. I chimed in with the fact I now sport orthotics.
“I am starting to think that collapsed feet don’t actually get better,” I said.
A nurse was standing beside me. “No, no they don’t,” she said matter-of-factly.
Possibly a look passed over my face because she added the word “rarely.”
I have avoided checking Dr. Google on this matter because I am not sure I am ready to hear for certain that the jig is up – that my aspirations to be a prima ballerina are kaput and my dream of being a foot model for anything other than a medical journal is done.
Besides, I should put that week into context.
I am not terribly athletic. I continue to be amazed that I took up running at all. It is hard. I am not a glamorous runner. Sometimes it hurts. (Ironically, it usually wasn’t the feet that were sore, but I now know that the feet are connected to, well, everything.)
Anyway, the best thing about running for me is the fact it clears my head and makes me feel happy. All I need is 5K a couple of times a week to accomplish this. I also love running because I can go when my schedule allows it, which can be tricky.
The fact I haven’t run since July 24 – or even had a decent power walk – makes me cranky.
So on the evening of Nov. 27 I went on a super-fast, long-strided, loud-music-playing, orthotics-wearing, heart-pumping, 2.7K walk.
It felt sooooo good.
Even though I iced my foot as soon as I came home, I paid for it, as I knew I would. I don’t regret it, though. Besides, it was a new and different kind of pain, which was intriguing (when you are obsessed with your foot).
I was still paying for it when I had the conversation with my nurse friend.
I bounced back from that discouragement after chatting with my lovely physiotherapist a week later. I admitted to her that I had probably pushed the boundaries a bit with my mentally-therapeutic-but- pedalianly-abusive power walk.
She was undaunted, however, and has encouraged me to start a walking program – but to ease into it. (Duh.) I am also working harder on my exercises. These include such exciting things as standing on tiptoes while squeezing a small ball between my feet, as well as toe push-ups, which are harder than they might sound.
Most importantly, I am going to try to be more patient. My orthotics guy told me it could take several months before the bad days diminish. I am only about halfway into “several.”
With patience and a lot more toe push-ups, maybe I will be lucky enough to be one of the “rarelys.”
Published in The Perth Courier, Dec. 15/11
Monday, December 5, 2011
Past Deadline: Retraining Wonky Ankles
The good news is I no longer feel compelled to cut off my right foot.
The bad news is I still spend way more time thinking about my feet than I would like.
Back in September, I wrote about how my right ankle had basically given up on me.
It all started with nagging pain in August. Over a period of several weeks, despite rest, ice, tensor bandages and elevation, it grew progressively worse. It burned and twinged and throbbed and felt as if someone were squeezing it with a vice. That was when I was sitting down – standing and walking were much less fun. Even swimming was painful.
My doctor referred me to physiotherapy, which became my happy place. My physiotherapist took my poor, swollen, red-hot appendage and, over a few weeks, got it back on speaking terms with the rest of my body.
“Baby, you were born this way,” she said with a smile, while marveling over the fact I actually ran on those feet. I credit good shoes.
Turns out I had posterior tibialis tendonitis in the right foot, which is a fancy way of saying my tendon was very angry. My arch had collapsed onto said tendon, which is as painful as it sounds. The ligaments were none too pleased about the situation, either.
Inflammation, much? Ice became my best friend.
My physiotherapist explained I have “severe biomechanical failure” in my feet. My ankles tilt in. Things aren’t lined up properly and probably never were. It seems it is a miracle I have not had foot problems before now.
How do we fix these wonky ankles? Custom orthotics!
I am now the proud owner of an expensive set of casts that not only produced inserts for my shoes, but can also be used as weapons or a dandy set of paperweights.
The inserts are now busily retraining my feet. Although I have been told by many that orthotics are just the bestest most awesomest things ever (or as my son would say, “epic!”), I have also been suitably forewarned they take some getting used to.
Indeed.
Basically, orthotics position your feet so they work the way they should, which feels weird when you’ve been walking on them the wonky way for 40 years.
The process makes your feet a whole new kind of tired as you find all sorts of little muscles that may never have been used properly before.
In fact, when my orthotics specialist explained how to ease into the wearing of them, he said I would need double the normal time. I am just that special.
So instead of wearing them for one hour in the morning and one in the afternoon on the first day, then two and two on the second, etc., I had to do each increment over two days.
How could I have lived so long with such crazy feet without knowing it? It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about myself. (I know about the crazy hair, at least.)
After a couple of weeks I am pleased to report that, despite the onerous process, I think I am starting to notice a difference.
My ankle still yells at me sometimes, but it’s not as violently angry. Both feet get tired, but that matches the rest of me.
My orthotics guy said that after a few months I will suddenly realize the bad days are much further and farther between. I look forward to it.
Not only that, but both he and my physiotherapist have suggested I may be able to run again – someday – as long as I don’t rush it. No worries. I am happy that I can sometimes walk without pain now, so I have no plans to hinder progress.
Oh, but I sure miss my head-clearing runs.
Even though I embraced cycling as a means to get around town without having to put weight on my foot, I have had a hard time getting past the “I am going to die” feeling that set in after I flipped off my bike in Grade 12 and landed in the hospital.
I’ll keep working at it, but so far biking doesn’t do much to clear my head – and concussions don’t count.
Published in The Perth Courier, Nov. 10/11
The bad news is I still spend way more time thinking about my feet than I would like.
Back in September, I wrote about how my right ankle had basically given up on me.
It all started with nagging pain in August. Over a period of several weeks, despite rest, ice, tensor bandages and elevation, it grew progressively worse. It burned and twinged and throbbed and felt as if someone were squeezing it with a vice. That was when I was sitting down – standing and walking were much less fun. Even swimming was painful.
My doctor referred me to physiotherapy, which became my happy place. My physiotherapist took my poor, swollen, red-hot appendage and, over a few weeks, got it back on speaking terms with the rest of my body.
“Baby, you were born this way,” she said with a smile, while marveling over the fact I actually ran on those feet. I credit good shoes.
Turns out I had posterior tibialis tendonitis in the right foot, which is a fancy way of saying my tendon was very angry. My arch had collapsed onto said tendon, which is as painful as it sounds. The ligaments were none too pleased about the situation, either.
Inflammation, much? Ice became my best friend.
My physiotherapist explained I have “severe biomechanical failure” in my feet. My ankles tilt in. Things aren’t lined up properly and probably never were. It seems it is a miracle I have not had foot problems before now.
How do we fix these wonky ankles? Custom orthotics!
I am now the proud owner of an expensive set of casts that not only produced inserts for my shoes, but can also be used as weapons or a dandy set of paperweights.
The inserts are now busily retraining my feet. Although I have been told by many that orthotics are just the bestest most awesomest things ever (or as my son would say, “epic!”), I have also been suitably forewarned they take some getting used to.
Indeed.
Basically, orthotics position your feet so they work the way they should, which feels weird when you’ve been walking on them the wonky way for 40 years.
The process makes your feet a whole new kind of tired as you find all sorts of little muscles that may never have been used properly before.
In fact, when my orthotics specialist explained how to ease into the wearing of them, he said I would need double the normal time. I am just that special.
So instead of wearing them for one hour in the morning and one in the afternoon on the first day, then two and two on the second, etc., I had to do each increment over two days.
How could I have lived so long with such crazy feet without knowing it? It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about myself. (I know about the crazy hair, at least.)
After a couple of weeks I am pleased to report that, despite the onerous process, I think I am starting to notice a difference.
My ankle still yells at me sometimes, but it’s not as violently angry. Both feet get tired, but that matches the rest of me.
My orthotics guy said that after a few months I will suddenly realize the bad days are much further and farther between. I look forward to it.
Not only that, but both he and my physiotherapist have suggested I may be able to run again – someday – as long as I don’t rush it. No worries. I am happy that I can sometimes walk without pain now, so I have no plans to hinder progress.
Oh, but I sure miss my head-clearing runs.
Even though I embraced cycling as a means to get around town without having to put weight on my foot, I have had a hard time getting past the “I am going to die” feeling that set in after I flipped off my bike in Grade 12 and landed in the hospital.
I’ll keep working at it, but so far biking doesn’t do much to clear my head – and concussions don’t count.
Published in The Perth Courier, Nov. 10/11
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Past Deadline: Epic Appendage Malfunction
I am getting a crash course about ankles because one of my ankles has, well, crashed.
Sometime in early August I began to notice pain in my right ankle. I couldn’t pinpoint it to a particular incident, and I wasn’t too concerned because I have always had what I affectionately call “wonky ankles.”
I used to go over on them a lot as a kid. One time, in the early days of courtship, an ankle buckled as I walked across a downtown street with Groom-boy. So graceful. “What are you doing?” he laughed. (Not: “Are you okay?”)
Throughout August the pain got worse. Ice, heat and ibuprofen didn’t help. I couldn’t walk without pain and certainly couldn’t run. Even at rest it twinged and ached and burned and it sometimes felt as if someone was tightening a vice around my lower calf. It even hurt to the touch.
While on vacation I spent some time consulting Dr. Google. My symptoms did not sound like a sprain, but more like a tendon problem. So I followed the RICE advice: Rest, Ice, Compression (tensor) and Elevate.
It still felt awful, so as soon as we got home I finally (stubborn, much?) made a doctor’s appointment.
“Get ye to a physiotherapist!” he said. Okay, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but physio was one of several courses of action he initiated.
The physiotherapist, meanwhile, took one look at my appendages and said, “You have been RUNNING on those feet?”
She set to work on my poor bedraggled right ankle to reduce the swelling and inflammation, and she took some measurements that, in layman’s terms, indicated my left foot is wonky and my right foot is almost twice as bad.
The working theory at this point is that my right ankle is afflicted with posterior tibialis tendonitis (fancy, eh?) and the long arch is collapsing onto the tendon. The tendon is angry and it is annoying the ligaments, too.
Sounds painful.
This has all been brought on by a “severe biomechanical failure” in my feet, which is fancy talk for the aforementioned “wonky ankles.”
Thing is, other than the occasional awkward moment on downtown streets, I have never really had any trouble with them.
It was, apparently, only a matter of time, which is one more reason why turning 40 has been So Much Fun.
A couple of years ago when I became interested in running, right off the bat I got a good pair of shoes. As I walked across the floor at the shop to have my gait assessed, I was asked, “Has anyone ever talked to you about orthotics?”
No one had, until that day. Perhaps I should have taken that as a hint, but when I put on those wonderful silver and red shoes – my “Rocket Shoes” (I name most inanimate objects) – it felt as if I were walking on clouds, so I didn’t really give it much thought after that. (Thank you, Mary!)
I’m sorry, ankles. I am a moron.
My physiotherapist (who still can’t believe I ever ran) tells me I probably would have been there two years sooner if it weren’t for those shoes.
I am afraid to ask her if I will ever run again.
It turns out my Google research wasn’t far off. I was on the right track with RICE, but needed to turn up the volume, especially with the ice. Now that I know this, it seems to be helping.
The swelling has gone down a bit, so now if I look at my feet in a mirror I can actually see how my right ankle sags. It looks depressed.
It definitely hates me.
I’m hoping orthotics will work like flowers and candy so that we can be friends again.
In the meantime, I am trying to find ways to stay off my feet without becoming sedentary.
For starters, I have pumped up my bicycle’s tires so that I can get around without actually, you know, walking.
I am not an avid cyclist, so I feel awkward. Whenever I ride my bike the “Miss Gulch” theme from The Wizard of Oz runs through my head. Does that make me a witch?
My ankles probably think so, my pretties.
Published in The Perth Courier, Sept. 22/11
Sometime in early August I began to notice pain in my right ankle. I couldn’t pinpoint it to a particular incident, and I wasn’t too concerned because I have always had what I affectionately call “wonky ankles.”
I used to go over on them a lot as a kid. One time, in the early days of courtship, an ankle buckled as I walked across a downtown street with Groom-boy. So graceful. “What are you doing?” he laughed. (Not: “Are you okay?”)
Throughout August the pain got worse. Ice, heat and ibuprofen didn’t help. I couldn’t walk without pain and certainly couldn’t run. Even at rest it twinged and ached and burned and it sometimes felt as if someone was tightening a vice around my lower calf. It even hurt to the touch.
While on vacation I spent some time consulting Dr. Google. My symptoms did not sound like a sprain, but more like a tendon problem. So I followed the RICE advice: Rest, Ice, Compression (tensor) and Elevate.
It still felt awful, so as soon as we got home I finally (stubborn, much?) made a doctor’s appointment.
“Get ye to a physiotherapist!” he said. Okay, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but physio was one of several courses of action he initiated.
The physiotherapist, meanwhile, took one look at my appendages and said, “You have been RUNNING on those feet?”
She set to work on my poor bedraggled right ankle to reduce the swelling and inflammation, and she took some measurements that, in layman’s terms, indicated my left foot is wonky and my right foot is almost twice as bad.
The working theory at this point is that my right ankle is afflicted with posterior tibialis tendonitis (fancy, eh?) and the long arch is collapsing onto the tendon. The tendon is angry and it is annoying the ligaments, too.
Sounds painful.
This has all been brought on by a “severe biomechanical failure” in my feet, which is fancy talk for the aforementioned “wonky ankles.”
Thing is, other than the occasional awkward moment on downtown streets, I have never really had any trouble with them.
It was, apparently, only a matter of time, which is one more reason why turning 40 has been So Much Fun.
A couple of years ago when I became interested in running, right off the bat I got a good pair of shoes. As I walked across the floor at the shop to have my gait assessed, I was asked, “Has anyone ever talked to you about orthotics?”
No one had, until that day. Perhaps I should have taken that as a hint, but when I put on those wonderful silver and red shoes – my “Rocket Shoes” (I name most inanimate objects) – it felt as if I were walking on clouds, so I didn’t really give it much thought after that. (Thank you, Mary!)
I’m sorry, ankles. I am a moron.
My physiotherapist (who still can’t believe I ever ran) tells me I probably would have been there two years sooner if it weren’t for those shoes.
I am afraid to ask her if I will ever run again.
It turns out my Google research wasn’t far off. I was on the right track with RICE, but needed to turn up the volume, especially with the ice. Now that I know this, it seems to be helping.
The swelling has gone down a bit, so now if I look at my feet in a mirror I can actually see how my right ankle sags. It looks depressed.
It definitely hates me.
I’m hoping orthotics will work like flowers and candy so that we can be friends again.
In the meantime, I am trying to find ways to stay off my feet without becoming sedentary.
For starters, I have pumped up my bicycle’s tires so that I can get around without actually, you know, walking.
I am not an avid cyclist, so I feel awkward. Whenever I ride my bike the “Miss Gulch” theme from The Wizard of Oz runs through my head. Does that make me a witch?
My ankles probably think so, my pretties.
Published in The Perth Courier, Sept. 22/11
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Past Deadline: You're Running? Where's the Emergency?
I do run run run. I do run run. It's even in the paper - Tuesday, July 21/09.
You’re running? Where’s the emergency?
I’m probably going to regret this.
Part of me thinks putting this in print (in the NEWSpaper, no less) will guilt me/spur me/commit me to completing the task. The other part thinks I’m just glad to have a topic idea for the column, no matter how premature it is. A wise woman would give it a minute to see if there’s any hope for success, possibly. On the other hand, what better way to begin than by beginning?
What AM I talking about?
So here’s the thing. I am half expecting a group of people donning long cloaks and muttering Gregorian-type chants to come out and surround me in some sort of weird ritual as I pledge my allegiance to the Cult of Running. Yes, boys and girls, pass the Kool Aid™, I’m going to give this a try. (Shh! I don’t want to say it too loudly yet.)
A couple of years ago I was given a pretty good health incentive to smarten up and improve my diet and get more exercise. For a while, I was so totally on the wagon I could have taught a class. Then came the thing that never fails to derail me – A Change In Routine. After many successful months, all the weight I had lost and muscle tone I had gained was for naught. Bad habits again prevailed and, steadily, I have maintained this trend – developing quite a lovely muffin top around the middle and an increasing propensity for lethargy (Shh! Don’t tell my doctor!).
People who say you get lots of exercise when you have little kids are full of beans, especially when it comes to those of us who also work from home and maintain odd hours. All it means is that when I’m not jumping up to fetch something, I’m firmly planted in a chair in front of the computer trying to stay caught up. There is a distinct lack of cardio in my day.
Lately I have been feeling quite melancholy about the whole thing. My clothes pinch and bunch. Shorts that used to sag are tight. Cute summer things that fit last season now vacation in my closet. We won’t even talk about bathing suits. All I really want is to feel right in my own skin again. Enough of this flab and lethargy – bring on muscle tone!
My good friend Heather, who lives in Calgary, is a runner with some motivational issues of late. A while ago she posted a “Super Beginner Learn to Run Plan” on her blog. I printed it off and stared at it woefully on a daily basis.
See, I have long had a personal policy against running (unless in an emergency). I’m a great walker, but I run like a windmill. I’m easily winded (just like a windmill) and I’m all arms and legs.
Heather and I were lamenting our flabby, unmotivated lots by e-mail. She said, “Get ye some good shoes and we will do your first run together.” So I got me some good shoes that support my saggy old feet. They are silver and red, so I have officially dubbed them my Brand New FancyPants Rocket Shoes™.
Heather stopped in Perth last week en route to a family reunion. I showed her my Rocket Shoes™, but I wasn’t going to suggest actually running in them – after all, “Lethargic” is my middle name. But, bless her, she said, “So are we going on this run or what?”
Man, it was the best 18 minutes I’ve spent all week, all month and possibly all year! We’ve pledged to harass – I mean encourage – each other online to stick to the plan.
So far I’ve learned that when I’ve tried to run in the past I’ve pushed too hard too fast instead of building up to it in order to avoid injury, breathlessness and, worst of all, discouragement.
So. There you have it. I’ve put it in print, galldernit!
It may be too late for bathing suit season this year (not that it has been warm enough to want to wear one anyway), but maybe, just maybe, I’ll be flabless and fancy free for next season. Stay tuned – I’m guessing there will be more on this.
You’re running? Where’s the emergency?
I’m probably going to regret this.
Part of me thinks putting this in print (in the NEWSpaper, no less) will guilt me/spur me/commit me to completing the task. The other part thinks I’m just glad to have a topic idea for the column, no matter how premature it is. A wise woman would give it a minute to see if there’s any hope for success, possibly. On the other hand, what better way to begin than by beginning?
What AM I talking about?
So here’s the thing. I am half expecting a group of people donning long cloaks and muttering Gregorian-type chants to come out and surround me in some sort of weird ritual as I pledge my allegiance to the Cult of Running. Yes, boys and girls, pass the Kool Aid™, I’m going to give this a try. (Shh! I don’t want to say it too loudly yet.)
A couple of years ago I was given a pretty good health incentive to smarten up and improve my diet and get more exercise. For a while, I was so totally on the wagon I could have taught a class. Then came the thing that never fails to derail me – A Change In Routine. After many successful months, all the weight I had lost and muscle tone I had gained was for naught. Bad habits again prevailed and, steadily, I have maintained this trend – developing quite a lovely muffin top around the middle and an increasing propensity for lethargy (Shh! Don’t tell my doctor!).
People who say you get lots of exercise when you have little kids are full of beans, especially when it comes to those of us who also work from home and maintain odd hours. All it means is that when I’m not jumping up to fetch something, I’m firmly planted in a chair in front of the computer trying to stay caught up. There is a distinct lack of cardio in my day.
Lately I have been feeling quite melancholy about the whole thing. My clothes pinch and bunch. Shorts that used to sag are tight. Cute summer things that fit last season now vacation in my closet. We won’t even talk about bathing suits. All I really want is to feel right in my own skin again. Enough of this flab and lethargy – bring on muscle tone!
My good friend Heather, who lives in Calgary, is a runner with some motivational issues of late. A while ago she posted a “Super Beginner Learn to Run Plan” on her blog. I printed it off and stared at it woefully on a daily basis.
See, I have long had a personal policy against running (unless in an emergency). I’m a great walker, but I run like a windmill. I’m easily winded (just like a windmill) and I’m all arms and legs.
Heather and I were lamenting our flabby, unmotivated lots by e-mail. She said, “Get ye some good shoes and we will do your first run together.” So I got me some good shoes that support my saggy old feet. They are silver and red, so I have officially dubbed them my Brand New FancyPants Rocket Shoes™.
Heather stopped in Perth last week en route to a family reunion. I showed her my Rocket Shoes™, but I wasn’t going to suggest actually running in them – after all, “Lethargic” is my middle name. But, bless her, she said, “So are we going on this run or what?”
Man, it was the best 18 minutes I’ve spent all week, all month and possibly all year! We’ve pledged to harass – I mean encourage – each other online to stick to the plan.
So far I’ve learned that when I’ve tried to run in the past I’ve pushed too hard too fast instead of building up to it in order to avoid injury, breathlessness and, worst of all, discouragement.
So. There you have it. I’ve put it in print, galldernit!
It may be too late for bathing suit season this year (not that it has been warm enough to want to wear one anyway), but maybe, just maybe, I’ll be flabless and fancy free for next season. Stay tuned – I’m guessing there will be more on this.
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