I was in such a state of despair this week at the thought that I might be completely debilitated by my injuries. I had to ensure that I was doing everything I possibly could be doing to make it right.
My appointment with the Rob was tomorrow, but I wanted to talk to someone else about my situation, so during my lunch break I walked down to the "Athlete's Foot" store to have a chat to the guys down there and see if they would take a look at my feet.
I was fortunate enough to be able to chat to someone that had actually experienced the same issues I was having, and after some walking tests and in depth discussion, they decided that I was wearing the right type of shoes, and addressing the situation in the best way I could. Their only other recommendation was that I should perhaps go and see a podiatrist, and so they pointed me in the direction of "Heal Podiatry" in Adelaide Arcade.
I was impressed that the guys didn't just try to sell me an expensive pair of shoes. It is probably a good thing they didn't know how desperate I was and how willing I would have been to try anything - they probably would have made some decent money off of me.
So wallet intact, with a new sense of respect for the Athlete's Foot team in Rundle Mall, but still disappointed without answers, I went and bought some more compression socks for my intended run that afternoon and then headed back to the office.
I had to stay back at the office to finish up a few things, so I didn't get home until quite late. However, determined as ever, I chucked on my new compression socks and jumped on the treadmill for an interval run.
I knew this was going to suck. My shitty old treadmill is stuck at a slight incline, which makes running horrific and of course I was still expecting my shins to be death.
I managed a couple of 5 minute running increments before my shin pain became too much, and finished up with a power-walk that left my legs like delicious, delicious jelly.
It would seem that the compression socks don't do much for the pain as I am working out, but I kept them on afterwards to assist with the inevitable swelling that I suffer afterwards.
I finally was able to chat to Rob when I got to my remedial session on Tuesday morning.
It had been so long since our last session, and I had to fill him in on how bad the situation was now with my shins.
He was so worried about it, he barely even touch my shins or my calves, but just worked on my hips and quads and severely recommended me to a reliable podiatrist just down the road.... "Heal Podiatry".
I was going to have to make an appointment with these guys since that was my second recommendation to them in as many days.
I picked up the phone as soon as I got back to the office and found out the the girl I was recommended to (Mel) didn't have an appointment available until the 19th June. What?!
I booked in with another girl called Liz who was available on the 2nd May but this was still nearly 2 weeks away. I asked to be put on the cancellation contact list in case an appointment came up before then.
I was really starting to panic.
This is what my brain was doing:
I can't run until the appointment. *brood*
That's 2 weeks without running. *start to panic*
I have not run a decent run for nearly 3 weeks. *panic some more*
That will be a month without a decent run. *start to hyperventilate*
What if the podiatrist appointment will only be a consultation and I will need to make another appointment. *hyperventilate some more*
The next appointment might not be for another 2 weeks after that. *panic again*
Then what if I need therapy? *channel panic into hulk invoked rage*
What if they want to make custom orthodics or something that takes like a month to get! *continue hulk invoked rage*
What if they can't fix me at all?! *fight the hulk invoked angry tears*
What if by the time they find a solution I am only two months out from the marathon without any run training for the previous 2 and a half months?! *shed some angry hulk tears*
I am fucking screwed. *cry maniacally*
So I might of starting having a mental breakdown about the whole situation.
I was so completely unmotivated by the prospect of my immediate future that I did not have it in me to do any kind of workout on Tuesday afternoon.
I began googling things like "shortest half marathon plan" and "how to keep your fitness up when you're injured" in the hope that there there was still some chance of me recovering from this in a worst case scenario.
After reading a bucket load of inspiring injury recovery stories from my usual running sites like Runners World and Women's Running, I was overcome by such an intense feeling of stubborn determination that I came up with a new plan.
I was going to continue with the same new training plan Rhi and I had agreed on, but instead of running, I would power-walk. Genius.
Really, I intended to work harder than I ever have.
If I couldn't run, I could at least work on my strength and cardio to keep my fitness up, right? Right?!
Since the only time I got any shin pain was when I was actually running, that meant I could do all sorts of other cardio exercises until I could fix the issue and get back into it.
With the new plan in mind, Rhi and I decided we would 'go for a run' after work.
Rhi suggested that we incorporate some strength exercises before we start, so we went down to the Torrens and did some squats, pushups, lunges, situps and planks on the banks of the Torrens before attempting to jog. I am a sucker for punishment.
I only jogged for about 500metres before I gave up and had to walk because the pain just got more intense with every footfall. I seriously wanted to cry my eyes out.
New plan aside, I was still so hopeful that this stupid thing would just go away on it's own.
We speed walked the rest of the way around the track which felt great. Our heart-rates were up, walking at such a hard pace that we could hardly talk and could feel the burn in our legs. At least we had done something.
I went home resolute that I was going to have to work my ass off in any and all other ways I could to make up for my lack of running.
Poor planning and social obligations meant that I didn't workout on Thursday as planned, but I was grateful for it because of how sore I was from doing the strength exercises on Tuesday.
On Friday morning, we decided we would do the same thing we did earlier in the week, and completed the strength exercises before going for a 4km speed walk.
We had worked out butts off, but it just wasn't the same as a runner's high, and I couldn't believe how much I missed it.
Saturday was a rest day this week as we had registered for a 6km trail race in the hills on Sunday. This was obviously registered well before my shins got so bad, and I wasn't looking forward to it.
Pride can be so silly. I didn't want to do the race because I couldn't run it and felt it wasn't worth it just to walk it.
Regardless, Rhi picked me up bright and early Sunday morning and we made our way our to Cleland National Park.
Our 6km track was along the Wine Shanty Hike in the park, and I knew that there was probably going to be a couple of hefty climbs.
This trail was on the section of track only one ridge over from that dreaded Yurrabilla trail section I did with Chris so many years ago that almost killed me. Great.
As is our routine, we were super early so that we could get out and look around.
We made out way over to the start area and picked up our bibs from the tents. For this race, we also had to claim a tracker that we were to wear around our ankle.
In previous races, the trackers were integrated into the bibs, so this was new and annoying at first, but quickly forgotten.
We had arrived just before the 24km race started, and were able to check out all the serious athletes before they made their way out.
When I say "check out" you might think I mean "look at all the good looking blokes". What it really mean is "check out all the running gear you have seen in stores or online but don't know what it looks like on a person". It is almost like window shopping.
I saw many sexy pairs of sneakers and a couple of hydration belts and vests that looked worth my money. Will have to stalk those out later.
The 24'ers made their way out and the remaining runners spread out to continue their warm-ups and get prepared.
Rhi and I noticed straight away that a trail race had a different sort of crowd dynamic than the others races we had been to. The people were different.
There were families and supporters like their usually is, but it seems so much more intimate. Like the looming gum trees surrounding the tents created a comforting embrace for everyone involved.
There were more smiles and we actually were able to chat to a few people, which we had never done before. It was nice.
The 12km racers were let go next and then it was only a few minutes left until our race started.
After the usual multiple trips to the loo before we started, we attempted to warm up jog, and I was acutely aware of the fact that I had no pain at all in my shins. Like, none. NONE.
I tried not to be too excited by that and continued warming up.
The race started on a hill, and so Rhi and I decided we would walk up the hill and start trying to jog when it flattened out.
The entire first kilometer was directly up hill and we were breathing hard and were nicely warmed up by the time we got to the top.
The majority of the group had moved away from us at this point and there were only a a few people walking slowly behind us.
We started to jog slowly at my suggestion and Rhi agreed but pointedly and violently threatened to do bad things to me should I run through any shin pain.
We ran across a flat path of a ridge, up a small hill and then down and around the other side before coming back to a walk before another massive hill.
Rhi was quick to ask me how my legs were going and I was beside myself and bursting to tell her that there was nothing. There was no pain. My shins were not even tender!
Over the next hill and we started to jog down and around the next ridge and continued like that all the way around the track: walking the hills and running the rest.
Rhi managed to almost stack it twice, and I just about frightened myself off a ridge when a mountain biker came throttling around a corner, but other than that, the only pain I felt was the burning in my lungs from running and it was GLORIOUS.
I was so excited about this that I didn't even care that I was knackered and sore by the end of the race, or that the stupid tracker had chafed the skin off my ankle.
We made the 6km in 55mins and we celebrated by having a big ass breakfast at the Mt Lofty cafe afterwards.
I still intend to go to the podiatrist and will still take it easy on my training because it is likely that I will experience shin pain again.
I now have more hope that this is something I will be able to manage so I can finished my training and complete this half marathon! Yay!