Today, I Swallowed A Bug

June 15th, 2015: a date I will never forget. Probably one of the weirdest, scariest, dumbest mornings I’ve had in a while, and a day I hope to never replicate. I’ll give you a break down, though you can read more about it HERE.

Short version: I went for a jog and rather severely sprained my ankle on both sides, bruised all of the bones in my foot, and chipped a piece of bone off of my medial malleolus (aka base of the tibia that makes your ankle all sticky-outtie).

Sounds cringe-worthy, right? Trust me, it felt pretty not great.

I couldn’t walk much for about a month, couldn’t walk right for about 6 more, occasionally have a limp which might last for a while, and walk even more so on the outside of my foot than I did previously. It’s been a tricky recovery. But. It’s been a recovery, and for that I’m truly grateful.

I’m an impatient person, and I am a “just push through the pain and you’ll be fine!” person when it comes to me. When it comes to everyone else I’m the “YOU NEED TO SEE A DOCTOR! WHY ARE YOU PUTTING IT OFF!? DON’T MAKE IT WORSE! I KNOW THESE THINGS BECAUSE I KNOW THINGS ABOUT MEDICAL THINGS!” person. But me? Pfffft. I’ll be fine! Which is why I didn’t give in to the fact that I’d messed up my ankle worse than usual (I’m a repeat sprainer and hey, the ER doctor said it was just a simple sprain even though I have basically sprained my ankle at least 10 (probably more, tbh) times and I know how sprains normally feel and this one felt like someone took a sledge hammer to my ankle about 5 times) until after a month of barely being able to stumble to my bathroom, which is a whopping 2 feet from my room.

(June, 2015) I used to load up my backpack if I decided to trade my room for the living room, just in case I needed anything

I fell into a pretty seriously depression. As much as I wanted to stay positive, I’d lost the one thing that I could do to make my brain shut up for a second and re-focus. Jogging was my meditation, a moment to reconnect with the world and stop thinking about the little things. Without the ability to jog or wander around and absorb something else to chill me out, I sort of shut down, socially. I gained a bunch of weight. I just kinda stopped caring about anything that wasn’t work or work-related.

Something snapped in a positive way around Christmas, and I decided that it was time to get back to being me. I started eating correctly (ie: no more all-candy dinners) and saw a shift in my emotions pretty fast, which was nice. I started going out for little walks and wore supportive sneakers to ensure I didn’t stress my ankle. And when I felt like I was ready to try jogging again, I waited one more month, just in case. And ordered every compression sleeve/ankle guard/support strap under the freakin’ sun.

Crankle Squad: My intricate but supportive…uh…supports.

On April 30th, 2016 (so dramatic with these dates, jfc), I jogged my first mile since the accident. It was a chilly and grey Saturday, perfect jogging weather. I told myself, just try to go for a half mile and don’t worry about what happens. Regardless of how far or how fast, I was determined. Honestly, (dramatic moment #6million over here), I’d spent the past 10.5 months thinking I likely wouldn’t be able to jog again for a long time. Even if I only jogged .25 miles, it didn’t matter! I was doing something that was, for me, incredible. I thought back to the first day, maybe about 4 months ago, that I realized I could tackle running upstairs. It was a weekend morning and I was going to check in on some cats. I moseyed up the steps to the Wellington Brownline platform and felt like a superhero. That memory made my heart race (but in a good way) and I set off on my first jog, to recapture that feeling. Slowly but surely, I jogged my first mile. And then I cried like a baby, because I was so proud.

I’ve been going out every other day since then, increasing my milage bit by bit, and inadvertently increasing my speed. It feels great to know that my goal of running a 5k in October is attainable.

I used to be so concerned about being slow and the possibility of people judging me as I jog through my neighborhood, but I honestly don’t care anymore, because I CAN JOG THROUGH MY NEIGHBORHOOD. It’s not like I’m out there with a big ol’ smile on my face and bluebird on my shoulder – I definitely choked on a bug today and it’s still kinda tough in general because hey, I haven’t done this in almost a year! Being able to jog a mile straight in the first week since I’ve been back to it still blows my mind because I remember, when I jogged before, how long it took me to get to that point. But I feel complete again. I feel like everything I’ve been working on since Christmas has helped me back on my path to be a better me. it’s not always the easiest, but it’s definitely worth it in the grand scheme of things.

It’s really good to be back.

For the Record, I Am Also Pretty Tired of Hearing About My Ankle

I’d like to believe that, were I trapped in a truly terrifying scenario straight out of a horror film, I would survive. Or at second-best, perhaps I’d be one of the last people to die. I feel that my general love of horror, my crisis-situation skills, and my improv and acting background would take me pretty far, should a maniac be on the loose and taking people out one by one within a close proximity to me. I will mourn you, my friends, but I will avenge you! Mark my words! Unless at some point I must run through the woods with the maniac behind me. Then, I’m completely screwed because I bet you all the candy in the world that I would sprain my right ankle.

As the maniac looms over me wielding his, her, or their weapon of choice, ready to either drag me back to their house of horrors for tortures my mind couldn’t even fathom, or just maim me right there in the woods, I wouldn’t reason with them. I don’t know that I would scream. I would think to myself “Of course. I knew this would happen. Luckily I’ll be dead soon and won’t have to deal with this unspeakable pain and also how the fuck did I get myself into this?”

On Monday, June 15th, I went for a jog. I’d been doing this pretty much every morning since June 1st. It was tough at first, but I pushed myself to keep going. I used to jog all the time, but stopped for a multitude of reasons. When I took a new job at the end of May, I made a deal with myself that morning jogs would become a regular part of my routine again. I would jog to pet-sitting gigs in the morning at first. That helped. I needed to feed the cats every day, and I needed to get to them somehow, so why not jog? The pet sitting gigs were between .6 and 2.7 miles from my apartment, so it wasn’t too far of a distance. It would save me money by not taking the bus and it would be a fun way to explore Chicago. What a great idea, Jessica!

Everything was going so well until the wee hours of June 15th. Not even in a mile into my jog, I saw a guy walking up ahead of me and knew I’d need to pass him by jogging briefly in a grassy patch next to the sidewalk. I’d switched up my route for the first time in two weeks and was on my way to jog by the lake, something I’d not been entirely confident in doing until that point. I began to maneuver my way around the walking man and suddenly noticed a pot hole and a surfacing root slightly obscured by the grassy patch in which my foot was about to land, and my brain shouted “WAAAAAAAAIT!” As I’ve yet to master stopping mid-air like a cartoon, my right foot landed somewhere between the pot hole and the root, and, losing my footing and suddenly finding myself in immense pain, I tumbled to the sidewalk.

The good news is that the guy who was walking stopped to help me even though my only responses to any of his questions were riddled with expletives. My eventual attempt at levity was to make a joke about how this was all his fault (sorry, helpful stranger!). The bad news is that I ended up in the hospital being stared incredulously at by a doctor who kept saying “It’s not broken. I don’t know how, but it’s not broken,” whilst I tried to remain calm and not to vomit from the severe pain (spoiler alert – I lost that fight after a long and ungracious struggle).

My ankle whoas are nothing new.  The first time I sprained my ankle, I was six years old, running on the linoleum floor with no socks on. I tripped in the kitchen and twisted my ankle very badly. I still remember the stinging pain, and of course, the yelling (shouldn’t have been running in the house). Since then I’ve sprained my ankle sleeping walking, being tripped by a childhood bully in gym class, falling up stairs (a specialty of mine) in college, tripping over a curb, slipping off a pipe (that was a work-related one and resulted in a fracture), drunkenly running from a bar and missing the “watch your step” sign (that was kinda funny, tbh) standing perfectly still (that one was terrifying!), whilst running through a corn maze (so. embarrassing.), walking in ice and snow in Converse, and of course, a few weeks ago whilst jogging.

The worst part about a sprained ankle, aside from the ridiculous pain, is how quickly I become a recluse. There’s not much point in attempting to go out unless there’s a car involved, or lots of sitting. It’s also just frustrating not being able to move at a normal pace when you’re the type of person who weaves through crowds of slower walkers like the ghost in the intro of the Real Ghostbusters cartoon avoiding inanimate objects even though it should be able to walk THROUGH them, shouldn’t it??? Ugh, glad I got that off my chest.

You’re bad at being a ghost and you should feel bad

I know it could be worse, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It might not be as big of a blow to my emotions if Chicago didn’t only have about 3 months of nice weather, and if my estimated complete healing time wasn’t in about 3 months. This isn’t just a twisted ankle – this is bruised ligaments and tendons. This is grosssssssss. This is going to involve me being a grown up and going for PT.  And this is going to take time, something I received a painful reminder of this morning upon standing up for the the first time, after an evening of being on my feet for about 6 hours. Huge mistake. Terribly painful mistake. Kinda worth it, though, to be able to go out to a public space, have a few drinks, and spend some time with my pals.

The physical pain and deficit is crappy enough, but not being able to be social in most ways is so tough. I’m definitely a loner, Dottie. A rebel. But even I enjoy venturing out of my natural habitat and being in the company of other socially uncomfortable nerds. My people. Aaaah. I have been fortunate to have a few visits from friends, but being stuck indoors when you want to go play outside with everyone else, yeah. It takes its toll. And once you get outside, the world doesn’t hold all of the doors for you and or quit pushing past you just because you have the gait of a zombie. No. It pisses people off. I’ve become the object that everyone else now needs to maneuver around. And some people make comments, which is so unnecessary. And then you’re crying in public because it’s kind of just too overwhelming. All you want is for that sharp object-wielding maniac to put you out of your misery even though you were so close to the sun coming up and making it through. But then he/she/they stop. Maybe you make eye contact. Maybe not. But they drop that sharp object and tromp back through the woods, heading to the bloody hellscape from which they came.

This isn’t permanent. This isn’t forever. Sure, it’s exhausting and dumb, and it will definitely happen again because there’s no way to avoid it if you’re a generally clumsy human such as myself. But this isn’t the end of the fight. It sucks. Ooooh, how it sucks. But I’ll make it out alive.

Nothing’s Gonna Break My Stride

This week has been a pretty great week in terms of superhero training, with a great final day (5 on/1 off this week) of today’s session with my personal trainer. We only have two sessions left, so I’m spacing them out like crazy. I won’t meet with him for two weeks, and so as long as I keep up the motivation I’ve had this week, I’ll be golden.

This week, I went to the gym every morning from Tuesday to Saturday. I varied my days accordingly, but after today’s training, I’ve got new stuff to add into the mix now! Every exercise I learned today hurt like a bitch and was incredibly tough. The best part about all of them is that after today, they’ll all be easier.

Let me back-track for a second, though.

I first met with my trainer (btw I’m likely never going to be able to afford to consistently see a trainer but the gym was running a special…trust me I am not made of money and this purchase was a freak thing but I highly recommend it because getting started at a gym can be rough but back to the point omfg what even) last week, and he had me do a few two-minute assessments on various things, like push ups, burpees, squats, and flutterkicks (as many as I could for two minutes each). All of which, I kinda really sucked at a lot but I tried hard. He gave me homework, which was 25 pushups and flutterkicks every morning and night (so 50 of each daily), because I literally have never correctly done a push up in my life. Every morning and night for the past two weeks, though, I’ve been busting my ass doing these damn things. They’ve both gotten a lot easier and I’m actually really impressed at the difference one week has made. I am actually going to be able to do a real push up if I keep this up! I might be the only person in the whole world who is excited about the prospect of being able to do a push up!

He also said that I should keep a notebook tracking all of the exercise I’m doing, and that has been phenomenally helpful. Every day I track my progress, and at the bottom of each page I leave myself an encouraging note. Accountability and continuity (and self-acceptance and love)!

My handwriting is terrible when I can’t feel my arms! Also, not quite done with Saturday…still have my PM business.

My biggest milestone this week though, which may not seem like a huge deal to some, is that I continuously jogged 2 miles. Not just once…but twice. At first I thought it was a weird fluke: I woke up on Wednesday completely not feeling like going to the gym, but magically I found myself there (auto-pilot mornings, ya dig?), but realized when I got on the train that I left my headphones at home. No music?! No Zombies, Run? Already feeling like this is going to suck hard? Not the best combination for a 5am gym-goer.

I hopped on the treadmill next to Melanie, my friend and seriously champion in this whole gym endeavor, and suddenly my brain flipped the encouragement switch on. Two miles later I felt like I was made of magic. I registered for the 7k after that, because I knew I’d be more than ready by March.

Friday morning, almost the same thing happened but this time I had my headphones and Zombies, Run, and I pushed myself to jog .20 miles further. Over the course of the next few weeks, I’m going to add between .15 and .20 whenever I can as long as I’m not in pain of course. My knee’s been acting up here and there, but I’ve got sturdy sneakers for general work outs and great running shoes for the jogs. I feel great.

I know it has really only been a bit less than 2 weeks since I started really doing this, but I feel like I’ve adopted this into a basic part of life. Waking up at 5 sucked at first, but now I realize I need to wake up even earlier to get my shit together and go. And I’m getting used to that. I can’t talk myself out of going to the gym, because I don’t want to talk myself out of going. This was probably the best choice I’ve ever made for myself, and all I can think about is which races I’m going to sign up for throughout the year.

I still don’t fully understand where this motivation and switch in thinking is coming from, but I love it and will not question it.

New Challenge! Run Away, Little Girl.

I am really excited about my next challenge for so many reasons, but mostly because it’s actually going to be a long-term challenge and not just a 30-day (though I’ll likely only blog about it “heavily” for 30 days). This is one with a targeted goal for next year, so I’m going to get started on it now. It is time to start training for running a TON of races. That’s right: there is a runner living inside of this awkward, chubby girl.

In the beginning of November, I (mostly) jogged through my first 5K, the Carrera de los Muretos, which is an amazingly awesome event. Also, probably the most encouraging and perfect first 5K for the inexperienced runner (Bands and music at many corners! Cheering spectators! Lovely Pilsen street art!). I had this huge plan to train for this race, as I initially signed up for it in August. As it happened, I got insanely busy with everything ever and then suddenly it was November and I was freaking out because it’s been a while since I’ve attempted to jog or run 1 mile, let alone 3.1. I was pretty sure I was dead in the water.

Luckily, I registered for this race with my friend Melanie and her fiance Sean who are the most incredible motivators and most supportive, amazing people. Melanie let me set our pace which was incredibly helpful. Before I knew it, we were just flying through the damn thing…though it certainly was tough towards the end. Without training, my time was 42:16 (I jogged about 2.5 miles of it, but it was certainly at a glacial pace). I’m pretty happy with that! But I’m going to beat that time next year by leaps and bounds.

Finishing that 5K, though it may seem minor to some people, was such a huge accomplishment for me. I used to be involved in sports, though I was never really good at any of them. I became very sedentary in college-to-adult years. If anyone in my family was going to run a 5K, it certainly was not going to be the pizza-loving, hard drinking, former smoker that is me.

Hey but guess what, it was, suckahs! And it left me feeling incredible, so now it’s time to train for more! I want to do this smart, and I want to do this so I don’t injure myself. It’s taken the past month to get on track due to a minor set back: I was weirdly sick, and I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

I assumed I had food poisoning or a stomach bug, but when nothing changed after a week, I adjusted my diet and went hardcore vegan/mostly raw foods. That helped a little bit, but not enough to feel normal. After incredible pains and weirdness, I finally made a doctor’s appointment because WebMD kept telling me it was cancer and I freaked myself out enough to realize I couldn’t live like that (with the pains and the doubt and the what nots). It turns out I have the sexiest illness of all time and, to be on the safe side, my doctor suggestion going gluten free until I see a GI doc as well.

With all of this, I am now feeling a billion times better (though I really miss apples, guys). I did have to go back to being not a vegan because I can’t process most vegan proteins right now, but it’s going to be fine. It’s just tricky at the moment. However, now I can jog without feeling like I ingested 12 water balloons…or fearing I might poop myself (I’m still single, fellas! Meee-oooow!).

Originally, I was going to just run outside, as you do, but well…It’s 11 degrees outside today. Yeah, Chicago weather! So there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. I’m not a big fan of running on treadmills (but I will!) and I’m super awkward about gyms (Don’t look at me! OMG locker room butts! Am I stretching in the right place?! WHAT IS THAT MACHINE?!?), even though I’ve had gym memberships here and there for the past several years, but I’ve joined a gym just this morning. I even got a little work out in to test a few machines and what not. I like it a lot. Oh, and I got one of those fancy watches that keeps track of your active times/calories burnt/etc. I’M DOING IT.

Another amazing part about this is this isn’t about weight loss, though obviously that will be a nice perk, which will also come from not being about to eat foods with a high FODMAP which, as you may notice, includes almost everything that is the best foods. To be fair, the Low FODMAP Foods have some aces stuff in there (PUMPKIIIIIINS!!!!), which is helpful. However, APPLES. I used to eat an apple every morning. It’s tough. But, to get back on track (GET IT? RUNNING PUNS!), this is about running a 7K in March, and running a half marathon in September, with 5Ks sprinkled in between. This is about feeling better, both mentally and physically. This is about defying my expectations for what my body can accomplish, because my mind has accomplished so much this year that it’s now time to give something else a chance.

This is going to be the best.