The One Where I Officially Became Tenacious

I meant to write this months ago. And then it fell through the cracks of life being busy. So I want to make sure I mark it down: The day I officially became tenacious: October 13, 2012.

Six days after my birthday, I ran a half marathon. This would mark my... hmm...
[Nashville. Frederick. Virginia Beach. Baltimore.] ...fourth half-marathon. The thing is, is that during my birthday celebrations the previous Saturday, I had apparently twisted my ankle. And only realized the enormity (I noticed it was sore on Sunday) of it that Wednesday when I was partaking in my pre-race gym session.

5 inch platforms, bottle service and wet floors equal ouchies.

Ouchies. Headline reads: Oct. 10, post gym: Life participant
realizes the enormity of the situation, posts to Facebook

After posting my admission photo that I may have, in fact, sprained my ankle in my heels on my birthday, my mom and slue of other Interneters insisted I not run the half marathon in Baltimore that weekend. And that's exactly what I did...

...Psych! I totally ran it. And finished.

And PROMPTLY hobbled to the medical
tent. Wherein they said, "You did what?!" 

That's right, volunteer medical personnel (one of which brought me chick-fil-a meant for volunteers and made my day), I ran a half marathon knowingly sprained. And I almost PRed! I was 3 minutes from my personal record - which I would have beat had I not stopped to retie my shoes 3 times and fix my KT tape. Admittedly though, I got sore at mile nine - like really really sore, but shocked I lasted that long (go KT tape!) - and began to walk. I quickly realized how bad my ankle was and started to run again, knowing full well that if I walked or stopped, that I wasn't finishing. So the last three miles were spent with me telling myself "there is no pain" and "there's ice at the end" over and over again.

Forward thinker and expert self-parenter, I came prepared for what I assumed with be a very painful post-race time:


And this sight confused the bananas out of everyone. Tee-hee.

It was somewhere around that point in the day, sporting my medals and my boot (I borrowed from a friend) that I officially deemed myself tenacious. And then we rode horses, as planned. Which was mildly painful, but totally worth it.



Cause that's what you do after running 13 miles on
 a sprained ankle, right?

Furthering my tenacity, I made an appointment the following week at the orthopedist: Not because I feared it was broken - though it hurt like a mother - but because I had another half-marathon that was five weeks away and I wanted to make sure that I could run it and remain not broken. Nothing major, he concluded, just a serious sprain and ballsy idea to keep running. Luckily, I got a ortho who is also a runner, so he did not judge me. He simply said no running for 10 days, then start out slow and suggested swimming instead (like the medical tent doc).

(So I started to swim. This has lead to a plethora of stories and lots of naked Asians. The community pool is quite the experience. I know, you're totally looking forward to that post now.)

I remained sore for a while. So I sat out of running for three weeks as I slowly began my experience in the community pool arena.

What? I shouldn't run on this again?

Three weeks later, I felt good enough to give it a go. I ran 11 miles. I was still a little sore, but I had to make sure the half in Miami in two weeks was still do-able after doing such a stupid silly tenacious thing. And wouldn't you know, two weeks later, with little continued training to speak of and still having to wrap up the ankle, I finished my fifth half marathon - and this time, with the added bonus of Miami-club-smoke-induced asthma.

Finisher.

(And to think: All of this began with one Yes Year request.)