Middle-aged (body) breakdowns....

So for today's tale, how 'bout we visit the category of "Wow, getting older really sucks"? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm generally pretty healthy and super-grateful for that. (Also pausing to superstitiously knock on wood, because after all, we'll take all the luck we can get, right? Okay, I'm back). However, I feel like--just in the last several years, really--I've reached sort of a...precarious age...when there's always seems to be some body part acting obnoxious and causing me grief.

For example, I just finally bullied my left knee into submission (with lots of trial and error, until at long last one of the string of orthopedists I consulted happened to hit upon the unique set of exercises that magically calmed my intransigent joint). But then, after only a few short, blessed pain-free weeks...my heel started complaining after I finished a run. (Yes, just one, again. Apparently I'm, I don't know, "uneven" or something...)

But seriously, a HEEL? Why does that even happen? Perhaps I should insert, here, that ever since I began jogging at age 15, I've been a forefront-strike kinda girl. As in, the balls of my feet are the only part that actually touches the ground. So obviously this was not only a new and unpleasant development, but also pretty baffling, given the fact that I've been using the same stride without consequences for such a long time. Initially, it honestly wasn't that bad, though--just a bit of achiness that would hobble me for the rest of the evening, but dissipate by the next morning. Therefore I followed my standard operating procedure when faced with a suspected injury: I completely ignored it.

That is, until bootcamp two Sundays ago, which was our interval-type run with exercise stops. I got through it with only a modicum of discomfort...but when we were done, I could barely walk. The situation had abruptly escalated to "bad enough to visit a professional as soon as humanly possible". As it turned out, this would conveniently be the very next morning, at a local orthopedic clinic that allows walk-in patients (or, you know, "limp-in", as it were...).

It took the doctor approximately 30 seconds to hand down a diagnosis of "plantar fasciitis"...a malady I've certainly heard of, and know multiple people who've experienced. Evidently I didn't have a very clear understanding of what caused it or how it presented, though, because that was not at all what I would have guessed was currently plaguing my foot. He prescribed a few specific stretches that target the area, and assured me that if I followed his advice to do them "every hour if you can" I should see improvement in a couple of days, and a return to "normal" (whatever that means at this point) in a matter of weeks.

Huh. Setting aside the frequency recommendation (which we can all agree is ridiculous and unrealistic, yeah?), that sounded like a plan I could put in motion. So I settled into what I felt was a reasonable pattern of completing the 4-minute program twice each in the morning, afternoon, and evening, for six times (totaling 24 minutes) per day. Heck, I even threw in some Ibuprofen and the occasional interlude with an ice pack, just for extra measure. (Why not cover ALL the bases, I always say...)

But imagine my surprise when a golden nugget of wisdom--perhaps even the BEST one--came from an unexpected source...my chiropractor. He always asks if there are any new areas of concern to report, so I enlightened him about my heel issue. Without missing a beat, he held up a finger and said, "Let me show you something that might help!" Hence my introduction to the wonder of RockTape--you know what I'm talking about, the adhesive strips you see pro athletes wearing on their shoulders, or knees, or calves. I always wondered why they did that, and now, thanks to my holistic practitioner-dude, I can tell you that it has something to do with supporting the muscles...reducing fatigue...and preventing or alleviating that old bugger, inflammation.

Well, it certainly seemed worth a try, so I let him apply the stuff (and take pictures, so I'd be able to recreate the trick at home). And...whether it's a placebo effect, the power of positive thinking, or an actual physiological phenomenon...I'd swear it's making a difference. And you know what? It can't hurt me, so my philosophy on these kinds of treatments can best be summed up as "Eh, why not?"

Then, after being rational and patient (I know, right? ME? Strange times, my friends...) and refraining from running for about 10 days to give the healing time to progress, I woke up one morning...feeling pretty much back-to-normal. So, all day I strolled around (still performing the stretches every few hours), wondering if it would be foolish to attempt the evening group-run I sometimes attend. But as the workout hour approached, I made the executive decision...to go for it.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I speculated. "I have to slow down to a walk? The route is familiar, so I won't get lost, I'd just be...the last one back. No biggie!" So yeah, I talked myself into it. And lemme tell ya...it went fine. (Despite the 90-degree lingering heat, which was a whole other challenge...) Sure, I utilized ALL of the tools an old...er runner has at her disposal: the super-special tape...the glamorous compression socks...the pharmaceuticals and cold wraps. Yet, despite some manageable soreness, the foot appears to have made it through its return to pounding the pavement relatively unscathed.

Of course, I have no way to predict how long this particular ailment will stick around, but at least I have an arsenal of information and remedies with which to attack it. And a whole week to rest and recuperate again before I absolutely have to lace up my running sneakers...for a 5K that Riley and I are already signed up to do. Please keep your fingers (and toes?) crossed that the grab-bag of quick-fixes at my disposal continues to do the trick, thankyouverymuch!