Now that I’ve rejoined the land of the living for over a whole week, it’s hard to remember ever stumbling around on crutches. I’ve been wearing the boot a lot. I don’t wear it 24/7, but for lengthy bouts on campus or running errands, it has been helpful. Throughout the week there’s been some swelling along with pain near the talus, which I’m sure isn’t unusual after surgery. So staying strapped into the boot during the week alleviates that, and it was starting to feel better this weekend. It’s helpful to ice and elevate (I should follow my own advice and do those things more often), and to get out of the boot for periodically to avoid stiffness.
Here’s a list of the “workouts” I was able to accomplish last week:
Mon: 10 min bike w/ zero resistance, lift + core, pool for drills and walking
Tues: PT session with BFR cuffs, 15 min aqua jog, core
Weds: 20 min bike w/ zero resistance, 15 min aqua jog, core
Thurs: 20 min aqua jog, core
Fri: 30 min bike w/ zero resistance, lift + core
Sat: 30 lap swim + walking and drills in pool
I did a fair amount of gardening this weekend because I think it’s about to start frosting for good, and my weeds were out of control. So I cleaned up beds and dug up the mint that was starting to run across the yard. My tenant’s boyfriend called me a 70-year-old. Okay, well, I’d rather tend to housekeeping priorities that bring joy instead of hiding in bed with a hangover on a Sunday morning, if that’s what you’re implying. Because yeah… I’m definitely too old for that.
Anyway, this first week has been productive without over-doing anything. There is literally no rush, so I’m like hey even if I need to use the boot for the next two weeks, that’s okay. I changed my expectations more than once, but was also surprised a couple times by how easily things were going. For instance, I’m realizing I won’t be ready to attempt yoga for a few more weeks still, but aqua jogging 20 minutes was way more manageable than anticipated, aside from super tired hamstrings.
Holy shit. One week left. It’s a bit hard to believe it’s “already” comin’ in hot, but it still can’t get here quickly enough. A guy on campus blew past me on his bike today and told me to watch where I was going. I almost cried. (As if he would’ve won that case had he actually hit me — not a chance, bro.) So yeah. I wouldn’t mind being through with the whole ordeal. Here are all the things I’m gonna do on repeat when I unleash myself to the world again:
Swim til I drown
Cook dinner for myself for a week straight
Go on a walk
Do ANY exercise that isn’t abs
Shower standing up
Clean my house of ALL evidence of humans and animals alike
Go to the bar. Yeah.
Relearn how to drive my car
Stand exclusively on my left leg for six weeks
It took about 2 weeks for the scabs to fall off after my stitches came out. Pretty minimal scarring. I’ve had shaving accidents worse than that.
I’m not really sure what to expect at my review next week. I assume I’ll be going in with crutches and leaving without them. I’m seeing the Laramie equivalent of the Fort Collins surgeon who actually performed my surgery. I don’t have the resources or time to travel to Fort Collins during a school week for appointments, so I had all my records released and transferred here.
And then it will be back to PT the next day to commence with the real work of restrengthening and retraining.
In the end, no, I did not attempt to swim and will not until I am walking. Most of the feedback I received from friends and family was to listen to the instructions I was given. Which seemed reasonable. As time passed, I also felt less angsty about the lack of exercise and a month hasn’t felt as long as it seemed initially. I have such a long road ahead before I can run anyway that there is little point in rushing anything, and I think the total rest will pay off.
That being said, I’ve very diligently done core and glute activation exercises every day for the past five weeks. Among other causes, I think lack of functional core strength was a major player in this injury, and I had really been neglecting it last summer when everything presented itself. If only runners could actually be counted on to take care of the small things before disaster strikes. We’d put surgeons and therapists out of business.
As a point of reference, when I first began physical therapy a year ago, I couldn’t perform this somewhat basic glute exercise ^^ that I have now mastered. And it only took about four weeks! ON A LEG I’M NOT EVEN USING! Runners!! Do your damn core work. It’s cheaper than surgery.
On Thursday, August 9, my cousin, dad and I loaded up my car and embarked on the hour-long trip down to Fort Collins, CO, for my arthroscopy procedure. My cousin had been in town visiting for several days and was on her way to Denver. My dad came all the way from Florida to gladly be my nurse for the next week.
We left Laramie at 6:30 am. I had to be at my appointment at 8:00 am, and surgery was scheduled for 9:30. Much to my surprise, I wasn’t particularly anxious. Just thirsty. I had been allowed to eat solid food up until 11:00 pm the night before, and clear liquids until 5:30 am that morning, but I hadn’t actually had anything to drink since I woke up.
My surgery was scheduled with Dr. Houghton at the Orthopaedic and Spine Center of the Rockies in Fort Collins. Both he and another surgeon in Laramie had reviewed my MRI and provided the same diagnosis and treatment options. My insurance better covered the procedure in Colorado, which is why I traveled.
I was called back to the pre-op ward shortly after we arrived. I changed into my surgery gown and a hair cap, and had my earrings taped. Then I was put up in a bed to wait for my procedure and was administered an IV. My dad and cousin were then allowed to wait with me, which eased my anxiety and passed the time. At this point, I was mostly hungry. The nurse offered a relaxer drip and I gladly took it — “It’s gonna feel a little bit like you just had a couple margaritas.” It helped quiet the anxiety in my mind and stopped my extremities from shaking.
The doc was running a little behind schedule, so 9:30 came and went before he briefly appeared to initial my operative leg. It was around 10:15 am when the nurses collected me. I left behind my glasses and waved goodbye to my crew. The margaritas had worn off, but I was ok. At that point, you know you’re in good hands and that you’ll be unconscious in a minute anyway.
It was a short and blurry trip to the OR, my only impression of which was that the lighting was excessively bright. In about two minutes, I was moved onto the operating table as an assembly of people I couldn’t make out repositioned me, placed a gas mask over my face, and told me the anesthesia was coming. I could hear the beeping as my heart rate shot up, but the slow fade was right there waiting for me.
I woke up with that groggy confusion where you know vaguely what’s going on, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. I immediately asked what time it was, and wondered whether the surgery had happened yet. It was about 11:30 am. The nurse asked me how I was feeling, and I blurted out that I’d really like a bagel.
She helped me change back into my clothes and wheeled me out to meet my dad in the ward. She gave me a pain pill and briefed him on the next steps. I was still a bit too groggy to follow along. Eventually, my dad went to retrieve the car, and the nurse wheeled me outside. I remember smiling as I left, and feeling an easy, blissful happiness.
24 Hours Post-Op
Once we got home, I spent the afternoon on the couch feeling very satisfied with the whole day. At the surgery center, I was provided a small walking shoe to wear with my surgery dressings and a pair of crutches. No boot! The wrapping and bandages will come off on Monday, four days post-op.
I was in very little pain and great spirits upon arriving home, which had nothing to do with drugs. For the first 24 hours, I took a pain reliever every four hours, and now I’m just taking it as needed. My foot was almost entirely numb until about 3:00 pm the next day, and when that wore off I could finally feel a dull aching sensation near the incision.
The surgery nurse instructed me to keep my leg elevated and do ankle circles and “calf pumps” as needed. I don’t have much range of motion due to the bandages, but I’ve been keeping pretty limber. I’ve also been doing calf massage manually or with a stick.
My throat was pretty sore from the anesthesia, but drinking water and echinacea tea helped with that. The first morning after surgery I opted for green tea instead of my usual decaf coffee, and my dad crafted a green smoothie for me to have with breakfast, using kale and mint from my yard.
48 Hours Post-Op
I am not one to enjoy mandatory bed rest, so the last 48 hours have slowly gotten boring once the novelty wore off. Lots of reading, naps, and endless scrolling. Sleeping has been relatively easy once my nighttime anxiety about blood clots settles down.
The hardest activity by far has been bathing. I might not try it again for a minute. It was mild chaos — just, like, flailing around while keeping one foot above water in a plastic bag. And I have pretty good balance, but that’s a lot of faith to put in my right leg while maneuvering out of slippery porcelain. Ya know, hygiene is overrated anyway.
To recover from something like this requires a sound nutrition plan. I’ve been eating well and with intention. Lots of veggies, grains, and protein. I know the prospect of immobilization scares a lot of neurotic runners, but you have to respect what your body is going through, and retaining your runner physique is far less urgent than repairing the injury completely. Now is not the time to pass judgment. There’s not much you can do about being restricted from bipedal movement; don’t make things harder by restricting your diet as well.
I don’t know how long the non-weight bearing phase will last. Could be 2 weeks, could be 6. The shoe makes me optimistic that it’ll be on the shorter end. I am ok with not knowing. I am ok with trusting the process. I am ok with the temporary loss of physical activity if it means I can have it all back eventually. Embracing the unknown is hard, but remaining positive that your patience will pay off is the only way to see this stuff through, in my experience.
Here I am at 6 in the morning trying to explain that I’m not a morning person. I’m not. This is a fluke. I’m actually an insomniac and I have been awake since about 2:30 am. Normally, shorter bouts of sleeplessness eventually lead to falling back to sleep and rendering myself incapable of being awake before 8 or 9 am. Now, if you have any scary Type A runners in your life (and if you can’t name one, it’s probably you) then you know that sleeping past 5 am is seen as a sign of weakness. Like do you even try to be a runner??
I’m also a huge procrastinator. Why get up at 5 when I can get up later? Why go to the gym to ride the elliptical for 30 monotonous minutes of staring at the clock when I can go laatterrrrr.
Let me first make a confession… I actually hate the gym. Going to the gym feels like a chore, mechanical and sterile. Don’t get me wrong, I always feel the way you’re supposed to after the gym, all high on endorphins and shit. But the gym just isn’t fun. You know it. Admit it. The gym sucks. I like to be outside, where the scenery changes and the air is fresh and I don’t count the minutes. Plus, there’s the added thrill of discovering a new route, or running super fast down a hill, or finding some sprinklers, maybe losing a contact lens or being chased by a dog! Running is less of a chore and more of a compulsion, an opportunity. I can roll out of bed in the morning or collapse in a heap on the floor after work and still mumble, “ok, gimme five minutes and I’ll put my shoes on.”
Not so much with going to the gym. Like, if I’m even the tiniest bit too hungry, I’m like ya know, I probably shouldn’t risk it. It’s called flexibility, right?
I follow a lot of runners on the social media. Pro runners, elite runners, friend runners. My favorites are delightfully transparent about the times when they’re just not feeling it. Usually, it’s because they’re pregnant, but still. The takeaway is that often our bodies need and deserve breaks that we aren’t allowing them unless pregnancy or a giant injury gets in the way, and maybe the best way to deal with it is to embrace the option to be “flexible” or downright lazy. If I bargained for cross-training after work only to wind up not feeling like it when I get home, it’s nice to be able to throw away my neurotic tendencies and just say no. Trust me, I’d prefer to get up and go before work, I’d get a lot more done that way, but if you didn’t see this whole story arc coming from a mile away, please refer back to the part where I mentioned a fondness for sleep and procrastination.
Call it what you want — flexibility, procrastination, laziness — but not being held to my own batshit standards of running x miles per week no matter what is kind of a relief. I mean, I gave up on that months ago and I’m still alive. For now, I neurotically wrote a pool plan that I will sort of follow up until surgery that looks something like this:
Day 1: 30 minute aqua jog + PT
Day 2: swim 20 lengths, 10 min aqua jog, swim 20 lengths + lift
Day 3: 30 minute aqua jog + PT
Day 4: swim 30 lengths + PT
Day 5: swim 20 lengths, 20 min aqua jog, pool intervals, 10 min aqua jog + lift
Days 6-7: PT, yoga, or rest
It’s the procrastinator’s method. You can shuffle it, swap out, save one for tomorrow, whatever. Slice it how you want. I also haven’t been to yoga once. And the BEST part is, I can accomplish all my PT work without even being at the gym. I have a spot carved out in my garage where I can do my core and glute work. No fighting college kids for space or equipment, it’s free, the music is better, and the cat likes to join in.
If reading about not following a plan is making your eye twitch, you might find some relief in these resources. Pro trail runner Megan Roche recently suffered a talus injury as well, although not the same as mine, and she did a feature for Trail Runner magazine about her comeback cross-training routine. Runner’s World also has a six week cross-training plan that I meticulously copy/pasted, and then saved for later (like a true procrastinator).
Enjoy your downtime. Rest. Use all this free time to make new hobbies. Stick to the things that serve you. And never forget that Des Linden won the Boston Marathon after taking several months off. Running will always be there when you’re ready to come back, when “later” eventually becomes “now.”
You never realize how difficult it can be to do certain things until you develop an anxiety disorder.
Oh fuck, I thought this was a running blog and now it turns out she’s also going to lecture us on mental health awareness.
I suffered my first panic attack two years ago, seemingly out of nowhere, and was reborn as a severely anxious person. Although, if I look back at my disposition towards certain things growing up, to me it seems rather inevitable. Take swimming for example.
I’ve never been a good swimmer. In first grade, I won my heat in a kickboard race at the school swim meet and that was the pinnacle of my swimming career. Then it was like — you know how some people grew up dreading The Mile? I grew up dreading the swimming unit. On the first day of a new school year, I’d be like fuck! we have to swim again in February. I don’t really know why — maybe I got too much water in my ears once or felt uneasy learning flip turns. Maybe other kid swimmers were assholes, and the ones who took lessons and got to be good at it were fairly unrestrained in their need to show off. So maybe I hated it because I couldn’t brag about it. And when you’re generally athletic, it sucks to be bad at an athletic thing. And when you’re me, you turn lots of negative experiences into opportunities to be ridiculously nervous.
Let me clarify that I enjoy using pools for leisure. What I am referring to is lap swimming, where you employ complex strokes and earn the opportunity to breathe again by succeeding at not drowning first. Breathing is never guaranteed! Because I have the lung capacity of a potato, and I never mastered the art of opening my eyes underwater, swimming was always more like thrashing around blindly and choking on water. I think I always lost my goggles diving off the start board.
I remember once in middle school I almost passed out after swim class. I’m sure it was every bit as dramatic as it sounds, but I swear between the chlorine fumes, the water-logged dehydration, and the breath-holding, swimming has a tendency to make me dizzy.
Well, once you’ve suffered enough panic attacks to be wary of anything that might cause dizziness, swimming gets even harder to do, too. Pair that with venturing to the middle of a deep pool to purposely overexert myself, and my claustrophobia is like WTF ARE YOU DOING?! I’ve triggered panic attacks while biking or using the elliptical too hard, but you see, if you panic and faint while swimming, you, um… you die.
This is really what it’s like to have irrational anxiety. Do I really think I might die while using a community pool with lifeguards around? No. Have I ever actually passed out while panicking? No. But I do find myself providing handicaps that I never used to consider. I’ve logged hours of my life aqua jogging, but now I wear a flotation belt like the ones old people use for water aerobics class. Just in case. Which means that, as if the lifeguards didn’t already think aqua jogging was baffling enough, now they definitely think I am some poor turd who must not know how to swim, and they move to sit in the chair right above to me. I mean, that’s not subtle. But it does make me feel better.
With my surgery scheduled for August 9, I still have some time before I endure 2-6 weeks of non-weight bearing and post-op recovery. Of course, to test a conservative treatment plan, I spent the first two weeks of July in a walking boot, and if you’ve had the misfortune of wearing one, you know how alarmingly fast your body atrophies. So I am using these interim 3 weeks to re-strengthen some musculature that I lost while in the boot. This includes core work and some easy cardio. It might seem pointless to beef up a shriveled leg that is destined to become shriveled again, but if you could choose to go into surgery shriveled or ripped, wouldn’t you choose ripped? Might as well be functioning above average to start with.
Hence the pool. Regardless of how uncomfortable it makes me, swimming and aqua jogging will be my primary forms of exercise for several weeks once I’m on the other side. It will get easier as I reacquaint myself. I usually feel very anxious on my way to the pool but end up feeling fairly relaxed once I start moving around. I like breast stroke because I can leave my head up, but I’m challenging myself to do more and more lengths. My record right now is 30. Runners like records. And people with anxiety like any small accomplishment.
I’ve been injured for a long time. For months. Actually, for the better part of a year. With no signs of improvement or relief. No timetable for a return to running. I’m inclined to share the entire months-long progression, but that’s not really useful to anyone. After exhausting all other options, I finally did what I should’ve done weeks ago and got an MRI.
Osteochondral lesion of the talus. There is a fracture in the cartilage that sits at the top of the talus bone in my left ankle, and the underlying bone has been damaged considerably. I remembered thinking once, “ok, it’s gotta be either a stress fracture or arthritis.” I wasn’t far off. And I was closer than most professionals had come.
An OLT is a tricky injury, I’ve now learned. Cartilage isn’t known for its ability to repair itself or regrow, and the talus is a very low-blood-flow area. A scope surgery is one of the only ways to treat this injury successfully. This procedure allows for cleaning debris from the injured area and drilling into the talus to create a microfracture. Ideally, this chain of events encourages new bone to grow and scar tissue will fill in for the cartilage.
That is the surgery I am now scheduled to have next month. That is the part I want to share. I spent months Googling my symptoms, trying to find a home for my injury, only to find very little reliable information and misdiagnose myself repeatedly.
I’m a runner. I’ve had all the “traditional” soft tissue injuries and a metatarsal fracture, too. But this is a new one for me, and the most difficult one for sure, especially when it’s been years since my last major injury. For weeks I wished it was a stress fracture – so straightforward! Almost guaranteed to run again in 8-12 weeks. Currently, I’m so far away from my usual place of fitness that going into surgery at this point is like “well, what’s another 6 weeks.” But at least I have a time frame, finally.
In the meantime, I’ll be updating throughout my pre-op phase, and then detailing the surgery and recovery plan. I struggled to find the information I needed, so I hope I may be a resource for someone else.
Predominate symptoms I experienced over the last 8 months:
A crunching, grinding, catching sensation inside the ankle joint
Shooting pain or a compressive ache in the ankle while ascending stairs or pedaling a bike
Sharp pain at the front of the ankle that was confused with both a cuboid fracture and impingement syndrome
Skin numbness across the bridge of the ankle, where you tie your laces, and behind the ankle on the lateral side
Joint pain in the medial arch of my foot
Swelling near the peroneal tendons
Pain and pinching behind the ankle on the medial side
Because of these symptoms, various physical therapists and doctors diagnosed me with a wide range of afflictions from plantar fasciitis to cuboid subluxation to tarsal tunnel syndrome – and keep in mind, none of these even occur in the same part of the ankle. That’s how much the pain migrated. I was able to run with it for about four months, and finally started to feel like the whole ankle was about to shatter, at which point I stopped.
Osteochondral lesion of the talus. I went to 4 physical therapists over this time. That’s maybe the most frustrating part. Every misdiagnosis made me feel like I wasn’t being heard. Like everyone was confirming their own biases instead of listening when I repeatedly said SOMETHING HURTS INSIDE THE ANKLE. It’s not the fucking plantar fascia! I often wish I had gotten imaging earlier. Thinking how much time I wasted beating myself up over useless rehab exercises, wondering what I was doing wrong… Knowing somewhere in my heart that it would lead to this. That it had to.
But I can’t dwell on that. That chapter is behind me. When I left the consultation with my physical therapist after he’d received my MRI results, I said, “You know, I actually feel excited. Relieved. A little scared. The hard part is over, and I see a light at the end of the tunnel.”
* * *
If you have experience with this or another similarly drawn-out injury, please reach out! Constructive, supportive feedback is something you can’t find over at the LRC message boards.