My Newest Hill To Conquer

I look up at the hill and take a deep breath.  I have no choice, so I better get going.  I’m trying to go slow and steady, to keep my pace.  I feel a bead of sweat drip down the side of my face.  I look up; not even halfway there.  I put my head down and keep going.  It feels like it’s taking forever, but I finally get to the top.  I stop, wipe the sweat off my face, take another deep breath and keep going.

Nope, I’m not back on my bike, training on the course for the Olympic distance triathlon I have on June 1^st.  I have not hit the part of the course called “the Wall” which requires no explanation beyond its name.  That hill I just climbed is that damned ramp in Grand Central that takes a person up to the exit on 42^nd and Vanderbilt.

I’ve been on crutches for just over two weeks now, with a stress fracture in my left foot.  I have to wear this heavy boot which serves as a cast that can be removed for showers and sleep, but I can’t put any weight on it for 4 weeks.  I’ve been reduced from running half marathons to trying to get myself up ramps at Grand Central Terminal (if it doesn’t sound hard, I invite you to grab some crutches and try it).

Getting around on crutches is an absolute pain in the ass.  No, that’s not true.  It’s an absolute pain in the wrists, forearms, and whatever muscle that is on the diagonal midpoint between a person’s shoulder and “second base”.  I have muscles in my back near my shoulder blades that clearly are not necessary for triathlons, as I appear not to have used them since birth.

Don't worry, that's not me

Let’s talk about my routine.  Every weekday morning I still get up at 4AM, and still catch the 5:15 train from Pelham into the City.  The only difference there is that instead of my tranquil walk on the deserted streets of my town every morning, I now have to drive the measly 0.6 miles to the train station.  I also have to start my workouts at Grand Central, with the warm up consisting of what is currently about a 15 minute walk to my gym on 45^th Street and Lexington Avenue (for you out of towners, that would only take about 7 minutes under the power of two good feet).  I get to the gym and get in the pool for the only workout I am able to do: deep water running.  Every. Damned. Day.  Not that it’s boring, but last Friday the lifeguard fell asleep watching me.  I can’t blame him; I almost fell asleep doing it.

Then I get out of the pool and take a shower, which is practically useless given that by the time I get to work I am such a hot, sweaty mess that I’ve taken to wearing a workout shirt for my walk and changing into an appropriate work shirt about 10 minutes after I’ve arrived, which is how long it takes me to stop sweating from working so hard. 

That walk from the gym to my office is the absolute worst part of my day, as I now I have to travel from 45^th and Lex to 39^th and 5^th.  Again for the out of towners, let’s call it a 12 minute walk for an able bodied person.  My goal next week is to do it in under a half hour.

Once I get to work (and have stopped sweating and can wash up and change in the bathroom), it’s actually all good for the next 8 hours.  If you’re looking for the most conscientious people in New York, just come work for my company.  All my coworkers have been jumping up for me and doing things like getting things out of the printer and offering to go to the basement to heat up my lunch for me.  My “work husband” Ian has done the lion’s share, making and delivering my coffee for me in the morning without me even having to ask (and to my straight husband, Wil, I have to admit that Ian is beginning to make you look bad).  I’ve gotten so spoiled at work that one day I had an appointment in another building and was almost crushed by the door I incorrectly expected the person in front of me to hold open for me when she went through it herself.

After work, it’s another walk back to Grand Central, where my track is the absolutely farthest one possible.  First, though, I have to get through the door.  Doors have become my archnemesis: to paint the picture for you, imagine the most uncoordinated person you’ve ever met, put her on crutches and tell her to hold up one leg in a very heavy boot while trying to hold crutches in her armpits and simultaneously open a door that swings into her.  If you pictured something between comical and just plain ugly, then you’re right on target. 

Once I finally get through the entrance at Grand Central (usually by way of some nice stranger  rescuing me from the clutches of the door and holding it open for me), I have to get to my train on the lower level.  This means that I have to tackle two ramps: the one that I had already fought in the morning but now in reverse, and another huge one to get me downstairs (not that it’s difficult, but there’s a bar about halfway down in case you need a drink).

Once I get home, I have to admit that I ditch the crutches against medical advice, since the doctor who insisted on it likely never tried to make dinner and get two kids into baths, pajamas and bed while hobbling on them.  My foot is broken in the middle, so I walk on my heal, hopefully not inflicting too much damage on it.

Now, I wrote this all out to make you laugh at what my world has temporarily turned into; but, I also wanted to show you something.  I said an important word earlier (no need to go searching for it; I’m about to lay it out for you right here): routine.  I still follow my routine as best I can.  I still get up early every day and go the gym. I haven’t given up or fallen back into old habits of soothing all my wounds – physical and otherwise – at the closest all you can eat buffet.

I’m going to miss that Olympic distance triathlon on June 1^st.  But there are other races, like the New York City Triathlon on July 14^th that I have marked as my comeback triathlon.  I can’t run, bike or swim now (the doctor allowed swimming, but that muscle between my shoulder and “second base” hurts so much that I can’t lift my arm over my head), so I do what I can even if it’s as exciting as watching wet paint dry.  Eventually I’ll be able to do everything again, and I don’t want to have to break in a new routine.  So for now I’ll have to satisfy myself with conquering the ramps at Grand Central.