And so the recovery begins......with a road trip

I woke up Sunday as sore as I have ever been in my life. My swollen feet had thankfully reduced in size but were still tight in my shoes and socks. My biggest concern was my Achilles which was so red and inflamed that my ankles could barely move. Walking was really more of a shuffle mostly because of pain, but also because I feared moving my ankles the wrong way would result in me rupturing something. The agony was enhanced by the fact that the guest bed we were sleeping on was unbelievably uncomfortable. I spent the night slowly tossing and turning trying desperately to find a position that was moderately comfortable.  Honestly, if I could have managed to get up and down on the floor I would have slept there as it would have been far more comfortable than the bed.

Everything on my body hurt, including my nose. I realized after some thought and consideration that it came from my hat pushing my sunglasses into the bridge of my nose.

After breakfast we piled into the VW, me behind the wheel, and began the journey home. I drove about the way I walked, slowly and thoughtfully. The lateral movement of switching from the gas to the brake was painful to say the least so I often had to physically lift my leg in order to move it from one pedal to the other. Realizing this, I decided slow and steady with ample car lengths between myself and other drivers would ensure our save arrival back to Frederick.

Disclaimer: I should add an explanation of why I drove. My mother was tired and frazzled after a stressful morning and Jesi, who is an awesome driver, had never driven with my mom as a passage. Due to the confluence of events it truly was the best solution to have the gimpy marathoner behind the wheel. This was not my first time driving in this condition so I felt safe in attempting the journey. I figured if I could drive the Beltway after a marathon I could drive Route 30.

By the time Jesi and I arrived at the apartment in the early afternoon, I felt for sure that I would never walk properly again. My muscles, despite a lathering of Ben-gay that morning, were tight. My hips would not allow any form of normal walking without the joints separating. My quads seem to pull in unnatural ways every time I moved my legs forward. My ankles seriously felt like they could not bend as a proper ankle should.

[Yes I’m sure you are reading this thinking what in the world is this lunatic thinking and how/why does she derive any pleasure from this marathoning thing? I have no answer.]

As I finally crawled into our incredibly comfortable bed I thought to myself at least it couldn’t get any worse. Note to self and everyone reading this….never, NEVER say that. EVER!! Apparently when I reapplied Ben-gay to my quads, I didn’t realize that my pj pants would redistribute the Ben-gay to other places.

There I was laying in bed, unable to move much less move quickly, trying to figure out how to sit up and get off the bed in order to get to the bathroom. Part of me wishes there was visual documentation of my frantic attempt to get myself into a sitting position and then off the bed only to realize the 400 mile (ok more like 14 feet) trek to the bathroom-my legs were burning in pain as I tried to walk while my personal area just burned.

Thankfully my sense of humor has remained somewhat intact during the healing process. The combination of a sense of humor and finally having a restful night’s sleep in a comfortable bed, was a winning combination in the healing process.. Though I knew, despite thinking it couldn’t get worse, I knew that Monday would be a brutal pain day as the second day usually was the worst healing day. I went to sleep comfortable and with a prayer to the marathon healing gods that they would be gentle on me and my return to work.