I Hope So

I always do my long training runs on Sundays. So I decided to check my training schedule. It said--

Sunday April 1st. 23 miles. Pace: 7:55.

So, I thought about it and decided I probably wasn't ready today. Instead, I sat on the couch and did physical therapy. Only guess what? Moving your ankle up and down and sometimes in a cirle does NOT get your heart rate up or feel as good as running 23 miles. It also wasn't enough of a distraction from the awful feeling that I should be outside running a long run. I mean, that's what I do on Sundays. No matter what. For the last 3 years.

I decided to go to THE GYM. Going to the gym on one leg is not an easy task, but well worth it.

Things you can do at the gym one legged:

1) One legged leg lifts with ankle weights on your theigh (lay on your back, side, and stomach) Given the fact that I have almost no more musle in my left leg it was actually pretty though

2) Crunches. With the bad leg laying straight ahead

3) What my students call "Push downs" where you lay on your bag and bring your legs up and down

4) Planks (bum leg crossed over your good leg so no weight is on it)

5) A million arm weight exercises sitting down

6) One legged squats, WITH CAUTION.

Now, the stuff that I was doing wasn't really that hard. That wasn't the scary part. It was really all of the people staring at me like I was a crazy person. And hey, I might be right now. I continued on trying to ignore them. Until one man came up to me and said "if I ever feel like I can't train for a day I am going to think of you... talk about determination". And then I realized, some of them were staring at me because i'm alittle wack but others were staring at me because of my crazy drive.

After a long night in the ER my surgeon finally came to see me in the morning right before I went into my first surgery. After he told me again that I had a SEVERE injury and gave me a play by play of the surgery, most of which I didn't understand. Then... I asked the question that I had been anxiously awaiting the answer to.

"If I do everything you tell me to do, will I be able to fully recovery from this and get back to where I was before?" And without even thinking he immediatly responded

"I hope so"

I clearly started to sob. I lied earlier--getting my foot jammed back into place wasn't the worst pain of my life. Hearing him say "I hope" was way more painful. Hope is not what I was looking for. He later told my parents that all he could do was his part and I was going to have to do mine to get he best outcome. Well, Dr.-- Here I am, doing my part. What do you have to say about my 7:55 pace now?