I've always wondered just how football players get through an NFL season. They must always be in pain. You just can't play that game the way it's supposed to be played without being dinged up all the time.
I've also always considered myself a tough person. I've prided myself on it actually. Mountaineers have to not only put up with discomfort. They have to sort of like it. We view it as a challenge. Oh, you've scraped up my leg? And thrown cold rain, wind, wet rocks, snow and a 55-degree hill at me? All on my three hours of sleep? Nah, I'm gonna climb you anyway.
And yet, here I am, worried about a pain in my foot.
Yet it is, sort of, justified.
I went to see the doctor about it Friday. He said, after a thorough examination, that I've got a stress reaction in a bone. This doesn't mean I have a stress fracture. But it means it's on the way if I keep pounding my foot by running so much.
So, OK. As a result, I didn't run hardly at all last week - and I know you're rolling your eyes at that, but really, I ran two miles all week - and I'll spend three days this week running maybe two miles at the most, all on soft surfaces, slow, so I don't hurt my eansy-weensy wuttle footsie.
But yeah, a marathon is kind of pounding my feet again, and that's what I'm facing this Sunday.
And it's my first one.
And I have no idea what's going to happen.
Doc even says he will inject my foot before the race if that's what I want. I know what you're all thinking - FTW is probably not far off - but I don't want to numb my foot and run 26 miles on it. I would, quite honestly, rather feel the pain. Think about it. You know how awful your mouth feels after the dentist, right? Would you want to run on that for 26 miles? No. Me either.
Still, my running partner is meeting me at mile 17, and she may - just may - have an injection with her. Maybe. Just to get me through it. Or, you know, if my foot does actually break.
It should be an interesting race.
I ran today for three miles. It felt fine. But here's the real issue. Last week I ran 10. At every mile, the pain got worse, until, in the last mile, I was saying ow, ow, ow with each step.
26 miles is a long way. I'm almost positive I can do it.
But I'm still trying to decide if I'm just being a baby about all this or if all this worry is justified. And the scary thing is I won't know until the race is over.