In this post, I’m going to cover my foot problem (see, “dog” is slang for foot. I’m really clever!) and then talk about actual dogs (the mammal kind.) Stay tuned!
So…. last Monday went a bit like this: (internal monologue) “Owww, owww, owweeeeee, my foot hurts. Mother f*cker, PLEASE let it not be a stress fracture. Pretty please? OMG what if it’s that plantar whatchamacallit where you can’t run, like, forEVER? Please let it not be that. What if it’s heel spurs? I have no idea what the hell that is, but that sounds bad.”
So I called the office of the sports med doc I’ve seen in the past and asked, sweet as pie, for an appointment. (Side note– is it a rule that doctors’ office receptionists are always angry and rude and generally hate everything?) Anyhow, the woman tersely told me she would call back. I waited about 3 hours… then I called back and sweet as pie, again asked about the status of my appointment.
I miraculously was given one for 3 PM and hobbled out of my office and into the doctor’s waiting room at 3 on the DOT.
….. minutes ticked by
…. hours ticked by
…. this office SUCKS. It’s the longest wait EVER and they have about 3 magazines and CNN on TV. CNN was live-covering the trial of Conrad Murray and it wasn’t that interesting to me.
…. after 5, they FINALLY asked me to come back to the exam room. A mere 2+ hours after my appointment time. No biggie! Then the PA said to me (accusingly) “You didn’t get x-rays?”
“Um, no?” I replied.
“We had you come in at 3 because our x-ray tech leaves at 3:30.”
I was getting angry. I was no longer so sweet as pie. (Even this Ohio girl has got a slight edge.) “I PROMISE YOU,” I said firmly, “I WAS SITTING THERE AT 3 ON THE DOT AND DIDN’T MOVE FOR OVER 2 HOURS.”
So then she realized that it was their screw-up and not mine and scurried out of the room to get the doctor, who said upon entering the room, “I’m just as frustrated as you are with what happened here today.” Mmmkay, I guess the PA warned him that I look sweeter than I am.
Long story boring, he spent about 5 minutes with me and my foot and proclaimed that it seems to be …. drumroll, please… tendonitis! I was elated for about 2 minutes, before I started worrying that he was wrong, because how could it be something so seemingly innocuous? Well, whatever. He suggested I get new shoes. I’m actually hoping the trouble IS my shoes. See, New Balance discontinued the shoes I’ve been running in for years, so I got a different pair of New Balances in August that I was told were the new version of the ones I’ve always run in, but they never felt the same. So getting new shoes would be an easy fix. Anyhow, he also gave me some gel to put on my foot. And he prescribed PT, but I’m gonna go ahead and NOT do that (at least for now) because it’s annoying and time consuming and expensive and I really hope new shoes fix the ish.
So last week I didn’t have time to get new shoes, so I ran in old ones. I only ran Weds, Thurs, and Friday mornings and only 4 miles each time. I’m feeling a little nuts and anxious to get back into a routine, but am trying to be cautious about my foot.
Over the weekend, T and I dog-sat for our friends on Long Island. We had SUCH a good time! It was like a little mini-vacation for us and the weather was beautiful and very fall-like. It would have been perfect running weather, except I didn’t run. But I DID get a new pair of running shoes at the Super Runners Shop. (I was SO stoked they had one in their little town!) So after years and years and years and years of running in New Balances, I have a new, shiny pair of Brooks (Adrenalines.) I really hope these bad boys are the cure to my wonky-a$$ foot.
Things we did other than running shoe shopping included meeting up with some friends for a few drinks, a little outlet shopping, drinking a LOT of beers on the couch with the dogs (we drank beer; the dogs did not) and taking the poochies for walks to the beach, which may have been the highlight of the weekend.
Anyhow, my verdict from the weekend is that I’m not quite ready to be a doggie mommy (though I love them, they are a LOT of work!) It was absolutely perfect for the weekend, though!
Seriously, how could you NOT love these sweet little faces? (Even when they are up in your grill whenever you try and eat ANYTHING, and up in your grill at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and hogging the bed all night)?
Today is my final day of sloth, and then it’s back to regular scheduled programming (running) and praying that my foot recovers in no time! I’ve got another little 26.2 to run in Feb.