Unremarkable

Well, I have never been described as so unremarkable so many times in one report. Ok, maybe I have, but I didn't know it.

I just got the MRI report from Dr. Spears at Sports Performance International...I've been holding my breath. The good news is that I am unremarkable...that is, that section of my foot is. I do not have a stress fracture. Yes! Excellent, but....Oh yes, there it is, the but -- as in the conjunction, not the gluteus maximus.

I have severe edema at the base of the fifth metatarsal. Somehow this is bad. Apparently, it's a pre-stress fracture. And, somehow the punishment is the same. No running. So, I get no sympathy boot cast or something to keep my foot from messing up more, but I can't run either. Aqua-jogging, cycling, elliptical. Did I mention that it's the right foot and it hurts to drive?

I look down at the floor while Dr. Spears is talking to me. First, he's calling me Alice. Alice doesn't live here anymore. I don't want to correct him. His assistant is calling me A-Lish-A, which is not me either. Anyway, I see Peter heading our way with a very determined stride and I figure I'm in the clear -- they will get my name right now and Peter will translate what the Dr. is saying to me.

They both start explaining that it looks like I have trauma to the bone -- multiple trauma. Wait, I don't remember a trauma or a multiple of the trauma. All I said to Lorenzo Blanco was let's do 10 instead of 7. I mean, this was an easy day. I feel like they are talking to someone else.

So, I say, Do the two weeks that I have already put in toward my 6 count? Now I feel like some petty criminal who's negotiating a lighter sentence. Notice how I said 6 at the long side and they said 8. Peter shakes his head and laughs.

Dr. Spears starts talking about how this is normal for runners who are used to a certain exercise level. They need something to replace their threshold of exercise. Ok, now I feel like a junky. For someone unremarkable, I feel like I've already played a lot of roles in this movie. Now I'm in an episode of Intervention on A&E.

Troy comes over now with the very nice assistant. Sorry, I forget her name. She's lovely. Everyone is flocking to the scan. Troy looks at me like I'm 2 and I just squeezed my puppy too hard.

Peter comes back in and kind of gives me the speech. Running hard, not a life long runner, over 40, etc, etc. I look down again, the tears are coming and I'm trying so hard not to cry. I cry at this office a lot. I think they need an on site therapist. Then I could really get a lot work done on all these personalities I have and my basic unremarkableness.

I slink out of the office and dutifully make my appointments. This isn't like the hip. I could run through that pain. But, this foot just won't work right now. It's as stubborn as I am.

I want to call someone from the car, but I don't bother. I don't think anyone will understand how I feel. Running grounds me. I work things out in my head when I run. I release my anger, my stress. I push myself. I'm alone, but I'm with people all at the same time. I had some ideas about this Spring. I just need a minute to accept it. After 2 weeks, my foot really doesn't feel any better at all.

When I get home, I pull out the report and read it. This is where I learn how normal and unremarkable I am. For a second, I start to think they are all wrong and I can lace up and head out tomorrow. Then I stand up and try to walk to the stairs, that I have to climb up and my foot is like a little pink ham in a shoe. I hate my foot!