Totally stole this from thedancingrunner. Hope she doesn’t mind.
I wasn’t going to blog today. But something happened that made me reconsider.
Two days ago when I ran, I felt my left calf seize up. Nothing too serious. I walked a little and finished my route. I’d been doing fartleks (don’t laugh) and I figured I strained it somehow. I rested it yesterday by *not* running. I got out today for a short romp around the ‘hood. About a block from the post office, I heard a pop.
My calf popped. And not like this
It scared me. It hurt a bit, but not super bad. I walked home – as briskly as I could – and checked out the hive of information online. “If your calf muscle pops, go to the emergency room immediately.” Umm. How about I just get ready for work and take some ibuprofen? Thanks, WebMD. I’ll make a doctor’s appointment for later in the day and call it good. It hurt, yet I could still walk on it. Stairs caused more pain than flat surfaces.
I went to work, doing work-y stuff and later drove to the clinic in the afternoon. I found out my old primary care physician had retired. It had been a long time since I paid him a visit. The new doctor, who may or may not be my primary, was Russian with a last name I could not pronounce. A professional, elegant woman of indeterminate age, she asked me what brought me in to see her. Let’s call her Dr. D. Her straight brown hair fell in an angled bob around her high cheekbones. Dr. D is a striking woman. However, after telling the nurse and filling out the paperwork, I resisted the urge to open my bag of sarcasm. I mean, if you have a medical degree, you did read somewhere along the way, right?!
I told her about hurting my calf and the pop in the morning.
“Stand up and turn around,” she instructed.
I did as I was told.
She felt up my right leg, checking the muscles.
“Everything seems to be in place,” she said.
She moved to the left leg. She probed the muscles, checking for hot spots.
“Stand up on your tip toes. Okay. Lean back on your heels.”
I could do both without screaming and only minimal pain.
“Okay. Turn around and sit down.”
At this point, it felt like a game of Simon Says. But I did it anyway.
She settled back on her rolling stool. Her pale blue eyes looked into mine.
“It looks like you have a micro tear in the calf muscle. We won’t know anything more unless you get an MRI, which can help us see the muscle. An X-ray only looks at bones. Your bones are fine,” she said.
“Here’s a sheet with some mild stretches you can do to help it heal. It will heal on its own, given time,” she smiled at me. She told me I caught it early and praised me for not exacerbating it by pushing through.
Dr. D handed me a prescription for a drug I’ve never heard of but only need to take once a day. And…no running for two weeks. Two weeks! That’s 14 days. Ugh.
At least I’m not doing Juneathon.
I hate that I’m back on the injured list. At least this time, I can still walk. I’ve got kettlebells. I will work on other things in the meantime. I might even bust out the ice, something I’m prone to dislike. I’ll add in some much-needed stretching. Heck, I could even try something new since running and I will be reduced to nodding acquaintances for a while.
I’m addicted to running. I admit it. But let this be a lesson to you, boys and girls. Listen to your body. Especially if it sounds like an old breakfast cereal.