Listen Up!

“Ali, you have to learn to listen to your body.”

Other than, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” this is the sentence I’ve heard the most from people over the last 7 weeks.  Those following this blog know that I am still nursing a stress fracture in my left foot, and at this point I am 7 weeks in to what I was told was going to be a 6 week recovery time (I’ll get to that in a minute).  I’ve been running for a bit over 4 years now, and in that time I’ve done what I like to call “pushing the envelope”, but most people would agree that I am actually more stubborn than the indelible marker I couldn’t get off my son’s wall the time he decided to “do some art.”  Even when a body part hurts, I usually train through it on the premise that it will feel better after I warm up.  That really does work for sore muscles, strained ligaments, and even a cold, but the rule doesn’t seem to apply to injured bone.  So, at this point I will put up the white flag and admit that running a half marathon and a 10K race after I knew there was something really wrong with my foot was actually a terrible idea. 

I didn’t listen to my body, and now I’m doing overtime in my boot.  I have to admit that if I was truly listening to my body, I wouldn’t be surprised that I’m still not healed.  About 10 days ago when I was wearing this boot for exactly 6 weeks, I went for my follow up MRI to see if the bone was healed.  It still hurt to walk on it when my boot was off (and sometimes when it’s on and I land right on the exact spot), but I had convinced myself that the pain was all in my head and my foot was 100% better, maybe not ever even broken in the first place.  I should have taken the conversation between myself and the receptionist as a sign of things to come.  My apologies to my Facebook friends who have already read this, but you have to agree that it bears repeating:

Receptionist (looking at computer): "you're here for an MRI of your right foot?"
Me: "No, my left foot."
Her (points to computer): "No, ma'am. It's of your right foot."
Me: "But it's my left foot that's broken."
Her: "No. It says right here that your right foot is broken."
Me: "You can do an MRI on my right foot, but it won't help to determine if my left foot is still broken."
Her: "Your left foot isn't broken. Your right foot is."

After a call to my doctor’s office to confirm that the cast that the receptionist could see I was wearing was on the correct foot (really), I had my MRI.  I hunted down my doctor for 7 days (another bizarre story, but nowhere near as funny as the one with the receptionist) before he finally called me with my results.  Now, not that I’m a recurring patient, but when he called he said, “Hi, Alison.  It’s Michael.” After I stumbled for a second or two as I: a) realized that “Michael” was the first name of my doctor, and b) that I’m such a frequent patient that we are now on a first name basis, I finally said, “Hi!  So, how is it?”  His response: “Well, it’s healing.”  Healing?  Why did he end his word with “ing”, meaning it’s still going on, vs. “ed”, which means that it’s all set, I can ride my bike to the sneaker store to get some new running kicks and get this race season back on track?

“Michael” went on to explain something about how calcium is filling up the broken bone, but the break is still there and apparently has been promoted from “stress fracture” to “fracture”.  I felt my blood boiling as he said that I was going to have to wear that [expletive, ends in “ing” since I’m still thinking it] boot for at least 2 more weeks, and then have a 3^rd MRI to determine if it was better at that point (and my sincere apologies to my insurance company).

The next day was my Weight Watchers meeting day.  I clomped along the hot streets of Manhattan to go to my lunch time meeting, absolutely annoyed with every single human I could see.  During the meeting, my Weight Watchers leader, Maggie, always asks if anyone is bragging about anything. I raised my hand and grumpily announced that I had reached my 4 year anniversary of being at my goal weight.  Maggie pointed to my boot and said, “So how have you done it, especially with your injury?”  I explained that I had learned that when I felt like I “needed” a Snickers (or Peanut Butter Cup, or Milky Way, or Charleston Chew.  I’m really not picky), I’d ask myself why it was that I “needed” it.  Usually the answer was that I was upset (or angry, tired or annoyed.  Again, not picky).  I knew that the candy bar wasn’t going to fix the emotion, so I’d figure out something else to do.  Then I thought and added, “and I also now only eat when I am truly hungry.”  Maggie said, “That’s it!  You’ve learned to listen to your body!  That’s what makes a person successful here.”

 

I’ve been thinking about it.  No, I don’t always listen to my body when it’s physically hurting, but I’ve learned to listen to my stomach, my head and my heart well enough to lose 70 pounds and keep it off for 4 years and counting.

So, I’m learning to listen and I’ve got part of it down.  I have at least 2 more weeks to practice, as my foot tells me that it still isn’t healed and needs to stay in this boot (and the boot is saying that in 90 degree weather it feels like someone has rubbed sand on my leg, wrapped Saran Wrap around it and then left it like that for several hours at a time).  Eventually I will be able to train again, and get back the level of endurance I had before I got hurt.  And I’ll do it carefully this time.  I’m listening.