Luck of the Irish
After spending the day at the Spa City 6 hour mountain bike race last Saturday, my turn to get my race on should have been the following morning. I had planned to arrive at the 3.5 mile Spa City Trail Run on March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, run the course before the event, run the race and then run a lap or possibly even two laps of the 10 mile loop after the race giving me at least 17 miles, hopefully more for the day. During my warm up lap I twisted an ankle at .25 miles. Seriously? What was my malfunction? The trail was loose, I admit it. The bikes from the day before were a little rough on it. But it had to be my clumsiness and inattention because within the next .10 mile, I twisted the OTHER ankle. Hard this time. I went down. I tried to walk it off and eventually started jogging again only to let my concentration break when my eye caught the movement of a hoodie going up over the head of a volunteer setting up a water station. Crap. The really hard turned ankle gave out just a little bit a second time. This is just not my day. But how could this happen? I was wearing my new lucky socks from Pro Compression? I was supposed to be dancing a jig and following the rainbow to my pot o gold, not lying on the dirt crying like a little whiny ass baby.
I decided to get on the road and follow it back to the parking lot since this would be much shorter than taking the trail but in just a few steps I felt better so I hopped back on the trail and made it back in time for the start. I was a little slower than I wanted to be during the race but I didn’t think it had anything to do with the ankle. It felt fine. After the race we were waiting for the official results of the race and the points series. It started to rain. I started to feel a twinge in my ankle. Just uncomfortable, not painful. The Hubs pointed out that it would be ridiculous for me to continue running on that ankle today. I already had 7 miles in, it was raining which would make the trail even more treacherous, and he had planned on riding his mountain bike while I ran and mountain biking in the rain wouldn’t be fun. It was the right call. Between Sunday and Monday, I kind of took care of it. Ice-compression-elevation. Then Tuesday morning I went to a cardio sculpt class, jumped around, and then on top of it wore boots to work all day, stayed in them to cook dinner and go shopping. By the time I took my boots off my ankle looked like this:
Cankle City Baby. So, back to Ice-Compression-Ibuprofen and and elevation when I can. But I’m a glutton. I went to spin class because hey, that isn’t like jumping or running on it. Right? Right? I expect validation where I probably deserve a good reprimand. And then crossfit. And then another crossfit. So I’m not running on it and even the jumping has been kept to a minimum but I haven’t stopped the short workouts. It’s been a week now. The swelling is almost gone. I’m looking forward to getting back to running on it later this week.