Everything was going so well.
I had been consistently running forty miles a week with one speed day and a nice long run on Sundays. Everything felt good, other than a slight, nagging foot pain. A few months ago I started to feel a pain in the bottom of my left foot for a few minutes after getting out of bed each day. A couple years ago I had plantar fasciitis in my right foot, so I was pretty sure I knew what this was. But it only hurt first thing in the morning, so I ignored it.
Over time it gradually got a little worse, tightening up when I sat for any length of time. I started to focus more on ankle mobility and trying to loosen up my left soleus, which has always been tighter than my right. Otherwise I didn’t worry about it too much because it never hurt while I ran.
A couple weeks ago it became extremely hard to step down first thing in the morning. I would be limping for the first ten minutes or so, then it would loosen up and I could walk normally, and thirty minutes later I would be out the door. Remembering how painful it was when I first got up I would think “HOW AM I EVEN RUNNING RIGHT NOW?” but still, it didn’t hurt while I ran and continued to feel good for the rest of the day, so I managed to convince myself that running was actually stretching it out and keeping everything loose.
I doubled down on my stretching and started to roll the bottom of my foot with a golfball every time I sat for an extended period. I tried different sleeping positions and used the dreaded plantar fasciitis sock that pulls your toes up at night, but is so uncomfortable that you can’t sleep well. Funny how we’ll do ANYTHING OTHER than stop running… right?
By the time Sunday rolled around I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a good idea to do a long run. But as my husband said, “That’s never stopped you in the past.” I had a sixteen-mile run on the schedule, a new playlist, this podcast with Jared Ward, and a cold brew coffee-flavored Gu. What could possibly go wrong???
The run was amazing. I started early and ran in the dark for the first hour (remember I live in Florida where it’s still hot and humid) then ran to a nearby park, where I ran on the cross country trail for the middle part of the run while listening to my podcast, then ran home. I felt a few twinges, and a couple times I stopped at a water fountain for about thirty seconds and when I started up again, it hurt. But then the endorphins (and caffeine from my Gu) would kick in to mask the pain and all was well again. I knew I would pay for it later… but it was worth it.
As expected, the rest of the day was horrible. I limped around painfully until I finally found some relief by digging out some old inserts from the last time I had PF, and put them in my old running shoes- at least I could maneuver myself around the house that way. I had a small fear that I had seriously injured my foot, but the next morning all was well again. Meaning, I could barely put any weight on it first thing but then it loosened up for me to walk almost normally again. Almost.
Because I’m not a complete lunatic, I finally called it. I called off running for the week and called my doctor. I’m going to go in for a couple treatments this week and see what happens. Yes, I should have done this a long time ago. To paraphrase (horribly) an old saying, the best time to take care of this would have been four months ago. The second best time is now.
The dreaded “I” word… I’m injured again.
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