The physiotherapist discharged me today for my back. I’m good to go on that account; just keep my posture as correct as can be. Which isn’t too bad when I stand, but I have a tendency to slump when I sit, so maintaining the hollow of my back is key. I am at least better at keeping my posture when I sit than last year before I sprained the facet joint. I can’t help but wonder whether a disc injury is enough for my sense memory to smack me upside the head and make me sit up straight even more often.
Where does this leave my foot injury? Well, as suggested, resting it would heal it. I was fortunate that the doctor gave me Celebrex, and one capsule per day kept the inflammation down and eliminated the pain 95% of the time. When it did hurt I iced it and napped, and that helped a lot – so far I’ve never had to take painkillers, all the pain was caused by inflammation, and the NSAIDs squashed that almost flat with ice as the chasing steamroller.
I was given permission to run on Sunday, I did the 5k Swan River Run, and pulled up in 31 minutes; which I think is the worst official time I’ve ever run for a 5km flat course since 2012 without having also been parkrun Run Director or stopping for a toilet mid-parkrun. I didn’t race, I just ran, navigating the crowd at the start – it took a kilometre to break free of the mass of walkers – and the whole time I was super conscious of how my foot felt, and it didn’t feel of anything.
I’m going to parkrun this Saturday, with perhaps another lap of the course if I feel OK. It’ll be at Pioneer, which is as opposite a course as I can get to the 5k Swan River Run, so it should be a good test for my foot. The physio showed me precisely where to dig in my thumb on my foot to see if it is still sore. It takes some pressing, and it is sore, just nowhere near to the extent that it was when it was diagnosed.
I’m quietly shitting myself. I’m being irritatingly precious about my injury – which in comparison to the injuries my friends are currently carrying makes me look like a running version of The Princess and the Pea, but I really don’t want to make it worse, and I simultaneously really don’t want to decide in November that I’m undertrained and shouldn’t do Six Inch. Because I really really really want to do that race.
I’m resorting to spreadsheets to calculate distances and percentage increases in volume. Going off the standard of 10% increase in mileage each week; if we say I have a base of 10km, then by the week before Six Inch I should be able to withstand a 95km week, which is far far more per week that I ran last year in training. Indeed, considering last year I was completely exhausted by training and my biggest monthly mileage was October at 173km *logically* I will be fine, training wise. But no matter how I turn it, logic just won’t fit inside my head today.
I’m going to come off the Celebrex soon, I’ll take my final capsule this coming Monday morning, and it should be completely out of my system by next Friday. I’m not parkrunning that Saturday, I’m going to save my energy for a run up in Bickley Brook reservoir with Jeremy on Sunday afternoon. That’s going to be about 10-12km, and is my final test. If it all goes horribly wrong, then I have a final 7 capsules of Celebrex and I’ll have to have a chat with the doctor. I don’t like the idea of running any real distance while using NSAIDs; I’ve read far too many tales of runners hospitalised with kidney failure having run using ibuprofen – god knows what Celebrex could do to you.
I suppose if there’s one good thing about injury (and those are bloody thin on the ground) it does make you realise how much something like a goal race means to you.