Stubborn Luck

Over lunch today I had someone ask me how my recovery was going. People have been commenting on the fact that I'm in heels, or that I look good since the break, and that it's nice to see me without the walker. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago I was confined to my bed in a ridiculous amount of pain. With the exception of when I first wake up, my limp is almost nonexistent. With the exception of the one-inch scar on my thigh, you'd never know I have three freakishly large pins holding my femur together.

"You made it look so easy, you handled it so well."

Did I? I don't think I did. I think I threw a fit the first night I was home. I distinctly remember throwing a pillow while crying because I was in pain and couldn't sleep. I remember taking my first shower, sitting on a shower seat with my leg hanging out of the shower because it was too painful to get all the way in and just sobbing. And when I say sobbing, I mean the all the way from your gut ugly sob, the kind where you can't breathe, but you don't make a sound.

Those first two weeks I cried...a lot. Those first two weeks I swore...a lot. Those first two weeks I lost hope...a lot.

I threw countless pity parties for myself. Sometimes people would indulge me, more often than not they wouldn't. I appreciate the times they wouldn't.

Sure, it's fine to wallow in self-pity on occasion, because let's face it, the situation sucked...like really sucked. I went from running four days a week and hitting the gym at least two to three times a week to nothing. Zip, zero, zilch, nada, nyet, etc. I watched my leg muscles atrophy and it killed me. I worked for that calf, I worked for that quad and hammy. I put miles on those legs, they carried me through some of my toughest runs and helped me through some crazy shit, and they were disappearing before my eyes.

It was devastating.

I hated being helpless. I hated having people open doors, carry things for me, help me to my car. It drove me insane. Now, I would like to point out in a normal situation, I don't mind these things, but when I had a walker and physically could not do it myself, it enraged me.  Thank you to those that understood that and let me be stubborn, but finally stepped in when they knew I needed it and whispered words of encouragement so I wouldn't be defeated.

That helplessness humbled me though. The struggle of finding convenient parking (yes, I refused to get a temporary handicap parking tag...stubborn, remember?), the amount of time it took to get somewhere, the fact that I was exhausted from walking into a building, it humbled me. People do this on a daily basis and are not like me, they won't be getting better. I am so incredibly lucky.

It's cheesy to say that, but I am.

My recovery for all intents and purposes has been perfect. Everything is healing the right way to the point that I tend to forget I even broke it...well until I overdo it at the gym.

I'll repeat it, I am so incredibly lucky.

And maybe I did make it look easy, but I can promise you, it hasn't been easy, and it's not over yet. I still have a little more than a month before I can run and I just started reincorporating weights into my workout (cautiously of course). I had to laugh the other night because when I was leaving the gym I ran into my chiropractor. We were chatting on our way to our cars and he asked how I was doing. While catching up I mentioned that my surgeon humors me, he gets that I'm stubborn and that I want to push through and get to the finish line. My chiropractor laughed, tilted his head and said, "Yeah, I get that, in fact, I'm pretty sure I humored you, too."

I can see the finish line approaching and I know it's not the full finish. I know I'll have to work back to where I was and I know I'll still have to go at a turtles pace. But I can see it and I'm ready.

Pity Party of One, Your Table is Now Available

This entire process has been a series of pity parties for me, but the one I have been dealing with this week takes the cake. This weekend is Princess Half Marathon weekend. This weekend would have been my ninth consecutive Princess Half and my sixth Glass Slipper Challenge. It sucks beyond belief, especially knowing that I will lose my perfect status for Glass Slipper.

Aside from the race, it's also a girls weekend for me, my sister (who is celebrating a birthday today!) and niece. We run all the races, eat all the food, and park hop til our heart's content. Well, I am still hopping, just not between parks.

I know the feeling will pass, I know at the end of the day it is what it is, but it still sucks, plain and simple. I know that I am extremely lucky to be healing as quickly as I am and to be surrounded by so many people that are helping with the healing process. Truly, I am (and I sparely use this phrase) blessed.

So thank you to everyone that checked in on me this week because of the race. Thank you to my niece for understanding when I asked for no more updates from the expo. And thank you to anyone who has participated in my pity party this week, I promise I'll put on my big girl pants next week.

What Did You Expect?

I survived an entire week of work in the office. As silly as it sounds it was huge for me. Last week I made it two days and basically needed the entire weekend to recuperate. I was smarter this week and opted out of a few events and stayed in the office, which I think in the long run helped.

I will say though, the funniest thing out of all of this are some of the comments I have received. I'm not totally sure what people thought I would look like when they saw me. Maybe something like this:

I mean, that's the only logical explanation because almost everyone that I saw throughout the week either said, "Wow, look at you, you look amazing!" or "Wow, you're standing!"

Yeah, I look totally normal, and if you didn't see me walk with the walker, you'd have absolutely no idea. It's funny, but it's also one of those weird things I'm struggling with when it comes to this injury.

I only have 2 weeks and 5 days with the walker and then I can safely return to the background of everyday life that I relish.

From Zero to Marathon

I went back to work on Wednesday. I had told my boss come hell or high water I would be at my desk that morning. I honestly cannot tell you just how amazing it was to be back at my desk. It was the normalcy I craved. Now, don't get me wrong, it didn't come without some babying, and constant checks to see how I was. I have a feeling that will continue until I ditch the walker.

I worked at the office Wednesday and Thursday, full days. Friday morning though, I woke up, started to get ready for work and Scott finally looked me in my clearly exhausted eyes and said, "just work from home today." He was so right. My friend Leona compared it to marathon training and how after a few hard runs you need to either dial back your miles or rest. So, reluctantly, I did just that.

I've mentioned it before, but the mental games that come with this injury are by far the hardest. I look fine by all accounts, and if you saw me at my desk (and didn't see the walker), you would never know I'm two weeks post-op. And the reality is I don't know if anyone really knows how much it takes a toll on me.

Something I have mastered over the years is the stoic face while in the midst of a crisis. Maybe it's the years of PR training, maybe it's my Eastern European heritage, who knows. The point is, in a crisis, I will never show my cards. You will never see me cry (unless you are deep in the inner circle), you may see a slight fluster, but that's it. When my son took a ball to the ribs at practice and dropped, I portrayed the calm parent, but on the inside, I was screaming. When my daughter went through a fence on her horse and flung to the ground, I didn't scream, I didn't yell, I was calm on the outside. In the midst of all of this, I've shown a calm face, a smile, an "I'm totally okay" but inside I'm screaming, I'm wailing, I'm defeated.

Staying home on Friday was a giant pity party. I was upset with myself. Upset that I couldn't make it another day in the office. That I was weak. I cannot tell you how many times I was reminded that I'm still healing, that I'm actually probably going too fast. I was reminded of all that I've accomplished in the two weeks, and yet, it's not good enough for me.

I know this is going to be a long process. I know this is going to be a challenge both physically and mentally. I'm thankful for my friends and family who talk me through my pity parties. The amount of support I have is ridiculous honestly. It's so much more than any one person normally has, and I am so grateful for it.

Each day brings a new victory and I'm hoping to accomplish more this week than last week. And by accomplishing more, I mean actually work and go places, not accomplish watching more documentaries on Netflix.

Only 3 more weeks with the walker. Okay, 3 weeks, 4 days, and 16 hours from the moment I write this. But who's counting? Me...that's who.

With Patience Comes Healing

I'm officially two weeks post op today. It's been an extremely long two weeks. I have been tested physically but mainly mentally/emotionally.

The first week literally beat me up. I cried, I screamed, I threw pillows and I threw several pity parties for myself. It sucked. It sucked so much.

Week two just messed with me. I was physically feeling better. I was splitting time between the upstairs and downstairs. I was going out of the house. Everything was getting easier. But I still couldn't do everything I wanted to do,  and really I still can't.

The surgeon was great today. I think he enjoys the fact that I am significantly younger than most patients for this surgery, so I'm an exception to his rules. He cleared me to drive, he cleared me for work, and he cleared me to start putting 20lbs of weight on my leg. I don't really know what that would be, so to be safe I just won't do more than just tap my foot on the ground.

I am incredibly thankful for everyone that has either come over to hang, texted me ridiculous things to make me laugh, flown down from Chicago (what up Tay Tay) and most importantly fed my family. Honestly, I don't know what we would have done without all those meals!

I'm pretty excited to head back into the office tomorrow, I even get to drive myself (shout out to the Doc for getting that approved!). Now let's hope these next four weeks fly by!