Motorcycle Marathon

I love dreams. I may sound a little weird, but I firmly believe that your dreams are a subconscious way of communicating with yourself. I always wake up from a dream and try to figure out exactly what I am trying to tell myself. Okay - this is where I need to quit talking and just tell the story before someone notifies the authorities and has me committed.

Last night, I dreamed that it was the day of a marathon, and I was scheduled to run. I had not trained for it, and I kept thinking, "The farthest I have ever run is only three miles. How am I gonna do this???!!" And then my running friend shows up and informs me that we will be running in our bathing suits. What the?!? So, we are literally in the street somewhere waiting on the race to begin, and I fretfully go from store to store looking for a bathing suit to wear while running my first marathon for which I have not trained. And then my friend adds another element to the mix - that we will not be running, but actually we will be riding motorcycles. You would think this would have made me feel better since I wouldn't have to run the 26.2. But it just stressed me out even more because I had never ridden a motorcycle before. Running - know how to do that. Motorcycle - not so much.

I woke up shortly after that. It was time to begin the day. Of course, the dream has been running through my mind ever since. And the weirdo in me is trying to figure out what it all means... trying to make sense of the craziness in my head (good luck to me!!). I think what I can figure out is that deep down inside, I am terrified to both run and ride a motorcycle in my bathing suit. I think that sums it all up.

On another note, I am officially retiring this site. I have been maintaining two blogs now for several months. When I began running and was so excited I could nearly spew, and I had to have a separate place to talk about running and chronicle my progress. But now that I know I won't be running, I think it is time to scale back and stick to the one blog, lovingly and accurately titled Crazy Mama. Because that's really who I am. It is the same kind of stories and musings of my life - the thrills and spills of me. Sarcastically spit out at you. Mixed in from time to time with surprisingly deep thoughts from a mom who can barely complete a sentence these days. So check me out if you wish. Thanks to all the fellow running bloggers out there who have had encouraging words to offer along with advice. I will still be checking in and envying your running triumphs! And to those of you who truly are runners - happy running!!!

Bunions, Bunions, and More Bunions

My mother and I discussed bunions today. The orthotics guy said that generally you can point to a specific person in your family and say, "Aha!! You are to blame for my bunions!!" I figured it was my grandmother's fault since she wears a size ten shoe (I wear a nine). Surely as big as her feet are she must have some big ole' honking bunions. My mother says she looked at her feet, and she really didn't see that she has bunions. The my mom asks, "But what are bunions? I mean, what do they look like?"

So, if she doesn't know what they look like, then how does she know my grandmother doesn't have them?

Because I pride myself on being informative (not really - I pride myself on being as sarcastic as I can without someone shooting me with a hunting rifle), please see here for all the info you have never wanted on bunions. And no, my feet do not look as bad as those pictured. Perhaps I will take a picture of my feet in the freshly painted orange bathroom so that all of my thousands of readers can see both.

Oh, and Terri, it is not a goo that you step in. Rather it is a strange foam that is dry and almost fluffy. Very soft. And blue. Your foot just sinks into it. But you don't stand on it. The guy presses your foot down for you. And then commences to tell you that you will probably need a size up in any shoe you want to wear them in. Great. Now I will be buying a size ten in everything I can fit the orthotics in.

Eat My Bunions

The title of this blog is officially being changed to "Eat My Bunions" in light of my appointment with the orthopedic doctor today. What I thought would be a cut and dry x-ray and diagnosis of a stress fracture quickly turned into a discussion of my bunions and pronation. Goodness gracious alive. I can only think of a handful of words that sound as disgusting as the term bunion. I will spare us all by not writing them.

The verdict: no apparent stress fracture of the shin bone. There is tenderness (a lot of tenderness) and warmth in the area, but the x-ray does not reveal a fracture. He wants me to take an anti-inflammatory for three weeks and not do any stressful activity (no running or walking) and come back to see him. If at that time I am not better, he may order a bone scan. But I think he leans more to the side of it being an acute case of tendonitis.

So the doctor asks me, "Is our goal to return to running as soon as possible?" And that's the question I knew I would have to answer today and one I have thought about for two weeks now. My answer? "No. Not at all."

I was not made to be a runner. I have the spirit and the desire. I could do it if I wanted to be in and out of the doctor every other month with some new injury. But I really don't have the time or money for all of that. And when he looked at my feet and started explaining how they work when you run and the probable reasons I am hurting so bad in my shin, I just feel certain that these feet weren't meant to run. They have served me well doing many things for these thirty-one years. But they are letting me know, in more ways than one, that they do not desire to carry me through 26 consecutive miles of anything. Not these feet - not in this lifetime.

Doc suggested I speak to their in house orthotics guy. He suggested that being fitted now, even if I didn't plan to run anymore, could prevent the bunions from becoming any worse. And I would imagine that it would be beneficial in walking or whatever. Because my feet are large. They have hurt for years and will continue to get worse if I don't so anything about it. So I stepped in this weird substance and made an impression of my feet. And they will call me in a few days to tell me how much my insurance is willing to pay for them. This is where running has actually served me well over the past few months... All my copays paid to the chiropractor will count toward the same deductible that the orthotics fall under. So that's a plus.

Anyway. To recap - I am not a runner, nor will I pretend to be anymore. Well, I may still wear my running shorts all over town because they are so comfortable. Hope that's okay. And I have bunions.

Fay, Fay, go away!!

Just listening to the rain today. Lots and lots and lots of rain. I would say too much rain, but we have been in such a state of drought in Alabama for so many years that I don't think it possible to receive too much. But it does make me oh so sleepy. And I have oh so much to do!!

I have been prepping my downstairs bathroom for painting tomorrow. My daughter starts preschool in the morning which means I will have four whole hours without any kids in the house!!!! I am ecstatic! Just to be able to do something uninterrupted sounds fabulous. I do love to do stuff in my house. So tomorrow paint - an awesome shade of orange I have already used in my son's room. I know. Orange sounds a little strange. But here in Alabama, college football is the breath of life, and we are HUGE Auburn fans around here. Our entire basement is an homage to Auburn football, and my son's room is as well. Their colors are navy blue and orange, hence the orange bathroom. It will be beautiful, my navy and white striped shower curtain with the orange walls around it. I can't wait to get it done. And then I plan on cleaning out two closets with my other two days this week. Much to do. Much to do.

It feels weird to say that I really don't miss running. In fact, I feel a bit relieved. My shin is really starting to improve. I can tell a big difference. This morning, I ran from the back door to the back of the yard to do something at the pool pump with minimal pain. It does not hurt now unless it has pressure of some kind on it. So, I feel that if it is break, it is already beginning to heal. Anyway... Still working on my core strength and enjoying that. And just taking this time to not pressure myself to do anything at all. I am really enjoying my life right now.

The Big Ball

I used to love working out on the stability ball. I bought a beginner's kit from some program (I think it was called Core Secrets) at Bed, Bath and Beyond of all places several years ago. It came with a ball, a DVD, and these cards with tons of exercises to do on and with the ball. The original ball I bought years before that came with a large sheet of exercises, but they were nothing in comparison to what was included in this kit. Some of the new exercises I literally could not do because my core wasn't strong enough.

Two days ago, I decided to get the ball down from its happy little home and actually use it. It sits wedged in the seat of the thirty-one year old rocking chair my mother received for her birthday shortly before my birth. That's the thing about the big ball. It is so large that I just can't ever really find a great place for it that I am not constantly moving it around or out of my way. So, I stuck it in the chair and it really fits snugly enough that it makes a noise when little hands are trying to pry it out. Like a little stability ball alarm. Because I don't know about anyone else's kids, but mine sure do love to pull out the big ball and try to do tricks on it. And looking at that through the eyes of a mother is horrifying. I would swear that one of them will surely break their neck somehow. I won't even get into the kind of tricks my husband wanted to do on the ball the first time I inflated it in the house - it was dirty, and I assure you impossible. And he was quickly put in his place. I digress...

Back to the other day. I did several of my old favorites for the legs. Because despite the fact I never lost any weight while running, I did firm up quite a bit in my legs. Not so much in the gut, but in the legs definitely, and I certainly don't want all that is somewhat firm to turn back to jiggling lard. Nice thought. I also did some push ups on the ball, which happens to be the only way I can do a push up. And I rounded off the workout with some ab work. I felt good. Felt like I had done something. Did not break a sweat. Did not elevate the heart rate really. But at least I worked the muscles and without any strain on the bones.

Yesterday, I woke up with this odd feeling. Something I had not felt in such a long time. Soreness. Good ole' stretch it out kind of soreness. It is a totally different kind of soreness than that rendered from running. And it is one I simply had not experienced in a while. So, since my son's Jamboree football game was cancelled due to rain, I heading up to my bedroom and pull out the big ball and turn some tricks on it. I need to do this a few days a week for right now until I get my official diagnosis. I am scared to even try to walk right now, and I figure really I don't need any unnecessary impact. So this will be a way for me to work the muscles while resting the bone. And I had forgotten how much I really like this sort of thing. It is incredibly challenging, and that is what keeps me going.

Fall

Though it is still a complete calendar month away, I can feel Fall moving in. I love Fall. It is my favorite season. The leaves and the colors and the crisp nights and blue jeans. And I can tell it is drawing nigh... I cut the grass today (cause, you know, I never do that), and its growth is finally starting to slow down. It is not as thick, and certainly not as hard to cut. I actually enjoyed cutting the grass today. Dare I say that I enjoyed it? It wasn't oppressively hot. It was a wee bit breezy. It was relaxing.

If there was a doubt of having a fracture, it is gone now. I have not run in a week now, and it hurts more than ever. And my daughter accidentally kicked it last night, and I thought I would die. So, now it is just a matter of how to make it better, which I know is little more than resting it. I have some calcium with vitamin D in the cabinet, and I think I will start taking it today. It is something I should be taking everyday anyway, so it certainly won't hurt.

Anyway... I feel much like I did when I first began exhibiting symptoms of fibromyalgia. It was exactly five years ago. My son was two, and I had whipped myself into shape like never before. I worked out five days a week, and I was toned and tight from head to toe. All the sudden, I began to feel short of breath - first during my workouts, which I easily dismissed as pushing myself too hard, and then while walking through a parking lot or even at rest. It was so frustrating. I had finally gotten my body the way I wanted it, and I found myself feeling limited and exhausted. Quite the opposite than I thought I should feel being as in shape as I was. I started a two year quest to discover what was wrong. From doctor to doctor I went checking every possible thing... heart, lungs, legs for blood clots, nerve tests, blood tests. No diagnosis. No magic pill I could take to make it better or make it go away. I will never forget the day when the rheumatologist asked me if I had heard of fibromyalgia. My initial thought (which I am embarrassed to say) was, "There's no way I have that. That's something crazy people have."

The more I looked into it, the more I knew I had fibromyalgia. I bought a book, and when I read the first chapter, I cried. I finally had read something that made sense to me, something that completely explained everything I had felt for so long. And it was then that I made a promise to myself to live as balanced a life as possible. But to try not to ever let some crazy, random, unexplained condition change or altar my life. But that's nearly impossible. It already had. I would just have to live around the problems.

I seem to be rambling today. Just sorting through my thoughts, I guess. I always feel like everything serves a grand purpose in your life - the good, the bad, the frustrating. I always feel I can learn valuable lessons during times like these. I feel like God wants me to be still right now. I remember thinking the same thing when I finally gave up my gym membership five years ago in the midst of medical issues. And if I have to be still to listen to what he is trying to say to me, then that is just what I'll do.

Of course, the grass will still have to be cut. But much less in the Fall.

It's not you; It's me.

Dear Running,
I don't know how to say this really. It is something that has tugged at my heart for a while. This feeling that something isn't quite right. This feeling that our relationship just isn't working. I think we just need to take a break. A major break. A trial separation. Some time to re-evaluate our goals and needs and see if we can fulfill one another. It has been a hard road between the two of us, and I am just not sure that I can go through the day to day pain you cause. I promise to make a decision soon. Until then...

I made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor yesterday. September 2nd. I am so ready to go and find out what is going on with this shin. I know it is one of two things: tendonitis or stress fracture. It seems nearly impossible to think that I could have a stress fracture after the minute amount I have run in the past several months. As I think back over my first few months of running, I realize that I spent more time not being able to run than actually running.

First, it was the bursitis in my heels due to the wrong shoes. So I had to sit out for three weeks icing and resting and elevating to heal that injury. Then, after visiting the best running store in our area and purchasing new footwear, I jammed my back. So that was another four weeks I couldn't run. My shin actually began to hurt in early May. It completely quit hurting while resting and healing my back for that four weeks, but the pain emerged again on my first run after cleared by the chiropractor. It has gradually gotten worse. It hurts when I climb or descend the stairs. It hurts if you tap on it. It hurts sometimes when I am just standing at the sink washing dishes. I think it is a stress fracture now that I have really sat down and read about the specific area that bothers me and talked it over with friends. I cannot believe this.

So I have a decision to make. I know that running, like any other form of intense exercise, will have its fair amount of pain to endure. But is this the way I want to live my life? I don't have to run. I have not reached that point of addiction that I hear so many other people talk about. I don't have to run a marathon. Yes, I was so moved by watching others do it and wanted so desperately to have the experience for myself. But for me, I have to draw my line somewhere. So in this two weeks that I wait for this appointment, I have to determine how much I am willing to endure and at what point I stop. Like my husband said last night, "Maybe you just really aren't a runner." And maybe I am not. There are lots of people out there that just can't run. And I might be one of them.

I am sad. But in a way, I am glad to have two weeks of not battling the guilt and feelings of failure when I don't run. Here lately, I have truly avoided running to avoid the pain. Running itself hasn't brought me much positivity in the past few weeks. I worked so hard and made such strides in the beginning, but it just seemed to stop abruptly and go downhill. We'll see what happens. We'll see what the doctor says, and what my heart says as well.