« Orthopedic intermission | Main | Resonance »

Endorphin junkie

I don't know if I should really be proud of my addiction, but I suppose there are far worse substances to be dependent on.

I hit bottom Wednesday. Already steeped in self-loathing about the parking incident, I checked in with the ortho's office since I hadn't heard from them about the MRI I got last Friday. I was under the impression that I'd get the MRI results from my doctor within a couple of days. But no, they said, they hadn't even gotten the films from the radiology office, and anyway they couldn't get me in for an appointment for another eight days, and no, the doctor doesn't give test results over the phone, and no, we really don't care if it's important to you that you find out if you need surgery sooner rather than later, blah blah blah, heartlessness and cruelty, etc.

I hung up and had a good frustrated cry before calling back and talking to a different person, who was still unhelpful but at least a little nicer. What makes it especially vexing is that I really like the doctor; it's just the office people who are like robots programmed to be mean.

Ugh.

But then I had an amazing workout on Thursday at spin class, and probably felt the best I've felt physically since I broke my wrist. I also had an extended chat with a sports physician at the class about my injury and my prospects for IM Arizona. He recommended -- no, actually he ordered me to get outside and run my butt off in addition to riding inside as much as possible. He told me what I wanted to hear, which is that I am highly unlikely to make my injury worse by running outside, and that running where I would have been swimming is the best thing I can do for my fitness (given that I'm not prone to running overuse injuries). And since my own orthopedist has proven exceptionally difficult to get a hold of, I am going with this new, preferred set of instructions.

Friday morning I got up early to help count laps at my YMCA's Swim-A-Thon, and as soon as I was finished tallying I went for my first outdoor run since Christmas day.

Running on the dreadmill just isn't the same.

I ran for 56 foggy minutes up to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge, along the bay and the marina, and good lord, it was glorious. By the end my legs were tired, but I was high on life.

Today I rode the trainer for 2 hours while watching the Maverick's surf contest (dude, check out the photos!), and then went for a 45-minute run outside in my beloved Golden Gate Park on what I believe was the first fully sunny day of the year. Awesome.

And while I don't get to see the ortho again until this coming Thursday, I have sent my MRI files to a radiologist friend of the family for an unofficial opinion.

I still don't know whether I'll be in Tempe on April 13, but things are looking better. And life is a little more bearable when I can get my fix.

January 12, 2008 10:01 PM