Who's got two thumbs and healthy bones? This gal!

I'm just a hypochondriac.

Seriously, that was my ortho doc's official diagnosis. He said my MRI looked fantastic, no sign of a fracture, and the radiologist who compared it to my February MRI said it looks like my bones have calcified more. Yes, Viactiv and vitamin D3 (and 7-8 months of solid rest) are the winning combination! I should be at 100% now.

So why does my hip hurt? Maybe it's a result of stretching and working things that haven't been worked in a while. It definitely feels better since I haven't run in 10 days. But it's still achey and creaky and sore and stiff. The doctor suggested that I find an activity that doesn't hurt. Uh, thanks.

I think I'm going to continue my couch to 5K plan because you pretty much can't get any easier than that when it comes to running. But I'm going to try to make myself be OK with taking unplanned rest days instead of sticking to a training plan religiously. Maybe I need more than a day or two to recover from a run. Maybe I should be doing more swimming and elliptical training to give my joints a break. {No pun intended, of course.}

I've decided that next week, I'm going to get a personal trainer who can show me some strength training exercises and stretches that I can do. I've thought about this for a while and never done it because I'm always too busy, too scared of the gym, or whatever, but it's well past time to get serious about strength training. I have asked my doc about physical therapy, and he doesn't think it's necessary. But my right leg atrophied surprisingly fast while I was on crutches, and it's not back to normal. My calves are different sizes, which is painfully obvious when I wear capri pants. {My pants get hitched up on my healthy runners calf, but slide easily over my puny right calf, so my pant legs always look different lengths!}

So I need to rehab my weak leg, but I also need to build strength all over, just to make me a better runner and to prevent injury from happening again. Maybe by the time it's tank top season again (and hopefully that won't be next week), I'll have biceps!

What do you do to stay strong and prevent injury? 

That Old Familiar (Injured) Feeling

My hip hurts. Again.

My couch to 5K plan went great for a few weeks, but lately, I've had pain in my hip, and not the getting-back-in-shape, good-for-you kind of pain. It feels like it did back in the winter before I found out I had a stress fracture.

I'll be the first to admit that I was totally paranoid about every little twinge after I stopped using my crutches, but after several months of taking it {probably a bit too} easy, I was feeling like my old self. The pain was gone, and all that was left was some muscle weakness that I'm still working through. Running was fantastic, and I felt pretty confident that I was OK. So about two weeks ago, I started focusing more on strength training and stretching because my right leg is still so much weaker than my left, and both my legs are insanely tight from sitting around all year. I've done lunges with no problem for the last couple of months, but after spending a few minutes in warrior II pose, my hip started aching all the time and even waking me up at night. I wouldn't think one yoga workout would cause damage, but something definitely changed, and I'm worried I've reinjured myself. I blame Jillian's Yoga Meltdown.

I've backed off my running regimen, which was already super easy, and am just biking and elliptical-ing. I saw my ortho doc last week, and he did new x-rays and ordered an MRI and a new bone density test to see if I'm making any progress with my old lady osteopenia. My x-rays were beautiful and he said my hip looked strong and there was no indication of a fracture. Yay! But it still hurts.

So I spent the afternoon here, napping in an MRI tube.

This one didn't require an arthrogram, thank goodness, so I was able to snooze right through all the clanging around. I go back to my doc on Thursday, and we'll find out the results. Until then, I'm just a big ball of stress and grumpiness. Maybe I'll have to stop running, which makes me feel fat and left out of all that is fun in the world. Maybe I'll end up on crutches again, which might make Trea want to move to a hotel. Regardless, it looks like my Turkey Trot dreams might be shattered since I'm already falling behind on my training plan.

My hope is that the tests will be normal and I can get back into my pretty pink Brooks by the weekend. But my achey hip is doubtful.

And for your Music Monday listening pleasure, I've had Benjamin Gibbard's new album, Former Lives, on repeat since it came out Tuesday. It's not running music, but it matches my mellow mood. And it's Ben Gibbard, who can record no wrong and is simply amazing. "Lily" is my favorite.

Am I still a runner?

It's been 5 months -- FIVE -- since I've been able to run. It's been 3 months since I was diagnosed with a stress fracture. And according to the doctor and new x-rays this week, I'm still fractured.

Not only was I a slow runner, but I'm also a slow healer.

I thought I had put in the time, been careful, hobbled around on crutches for over a month, followed all the rules. But I'm still not better. Even the doc was a bit perplexed. I had already taken nearly 2 months off when I finally figured out what was going on. Then after another full 6 weeks on crutches and 6 more weeks of taking it easy, we both thought I'd be fine. I'm assuming osteopenia is to blame. As if stress fractures aren't bad enough, I get saddled with wimpy old lady bones.

So basically looking at my x-rays was like the worst Groundhog Day ever. 6 more weeks of nothing. At least. If I'm not better in another 12, we'll do another MRI. If I'm not better in another 12, I'm going to lose my mind.

I'm cleared to use the elliptical (no resistance, no incline) and an exercise bike (very little resistance) and I can swim. That would be great except all of those things really suck. I'm a terrible swimmer and I just plain don't like it. It was fine when I thought this was temporary and it was a means to an end, but there's no end in sight, so why bother? I've long given up trying to maintain my fitness so it would be easier for me to pick up with running when I'm allowed to. And I have the uncomfortable pants to prove it.

I'm sure I should be more like Red, who spent 9 months of last year elliptical-ing her heart out while her stress fracture healed. But I'm not. I'm down. Way down. I started running because I wanted something that let me get in shape while setting goals and not going to the gym. Just me, my shoes and the road, whenever I felt like it. I DESPISE the gym. I've tried so many times to like it, but it's just awful there. And I have a decent gym. It's the waiting in line for a machine after work, the stinky smells, the weirdos pumping iron, and the crap on 20 TVs with nary a window in sight.

I want to be outside.

And it's getting hot, so I want to be outside on the trails under the trees. With my friends. I miss my town. I missed running under the redbud trees on Central Ave. this spring. I feel like I can't even call myself a runner anymore. I got to enjoy that dumb 26.2 bumper sticker for less than a month before everything fell apart. It's still on my car, and I hate it. I was so excited to get it, and I hate looking at it. Every.single.time I approach my car, I remember and I get sad. But if I take it off...is that the end? Admitting that I'm not a runner anymore?

Maybe one day I'll be a runner again, but not any time soon. Sorry for the down-in-the-dumps post, y'all, but I'm just sad these days, and there's not a happy way to spin it right now.

The Worst News Ever

Today, my doctor said the words every runner prays they'll never hear.

I have a stress fracture.

He followed that up by telling me I have to use crutches for at least 4 weeks. I am now completely useless around the house and I have no idea how I'm going to manage the monstrous campus of parking lots and buildings where I work.

The doc also said I should focus on the short-term and recovery, and pursue running goals "later in life." What is that supposed to mean? He said fractures like this typically heal in 6-12 weeks, but everyone's experience is different. 

I saw my MRI and he showed me the tiny hairline going across the top of my femur where it enters the hip socket. He didn't give it a name, but the Google tells me it's a compression stress fracture of the hip, which is the least complicated of stress fractures that occur in this area, and usually doesn't require surgery like some fractures could.

My MRI looked like the top image in this group. But not all red and nasty like that.
It was a tiny white line that you can barely see. 

I'm upset and freaking out, but I have been having hip problems for a while now, so I have barely run in 2 months. Sadly, I'm almost a little bit used to not running. My biggest problem is that I can hardly do anything, especially now that we know what the problem is. The doctor says I can use the recumbent bike on the lowest setting with no resistance, and not to pedal quickly enough to break a sweat. (Then what's the point?) He also said I can swim, but I can't kick. Um, what? So basically that leaves me doing nothing for AT LEAST 4 weeks. After that, we'll do another MRI, but not another arthrogram, thank God, and see if it's getting any better. 

Until then, I just wait. 

Thanks so much to all of you who have called, texted, tweeted and commented. Your words of encouragement mean more than you know. I'm trying not to throw myself too many pity parties because I know things could be much worse, and in the grand scheme of things, this isn't that serious. It's not like I was training for Boston or anything. I'm trying to keep a healthy perspective, but thanks for indulging me and letting me be sad for a while. This just sucks, and it's going to get harder before it gets easier. 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Last week started with a romantic gesture and hopeful optimism about my hip injury, but it ended with a hospital and excruciating pain.

Let's start with the good part, shall we?

In my last post, I whined about not being able to figure out what's going on with my hip until March, but then I got great news! The hospital called and said I could get in on Feb. 15 for my hip arthrogram and MRI -- two weeks earlier than scheduled! At that moment, I should've Googled "hip arthrogram." But I didn't. (This is called foreshadowing, y'all.) I was so excited to finally be on my way to finding out what it's going to take for me to run again.

Meanwhile, I was busy plotting a sweet surprise for Trea's Valentine's Day present. He loves to cook and bake, and he's always complaining that we don't have a KitchenAid stand mixer. I always say we don't have enough counter space, they're too expensive, stirring is a good workout, etc. Just so I could surprise him with a shiny red mixer for Valentine's Day! I had big plans to wake up early, put a pretty bow on it and leave it on the counter for him to see first thing that morning.

And when I came home from work Monday to finalize my plans -- the day before Valentine's Day -- I was greeted by this:

He got me a piano?! What the WHAT? Needless to say, I'm in love, both with Trea and the piano. It's gorgeous. It's a spinet grand, which I've never even seen before, and it's a shiny black finish that's perfect for our house. Not only does he know me better than anyone, but he can also decorate better than most girls. I've played the piano since I was 4 years old, but I haven't played regularly since college. I've forgotten a lot, and I'm having to relearn everything I once knew, but it's been so nice to play again, especially since I can't do much else.

On the actual day of Valentine's Day, I surprised Trea that morning...

...just as planned, but my splurge wasn't exactly a splurge in comparison to my perfect gift. The piano, without a doubt the sweetest, most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I am beyond lucky.

And after all this fabulousness, it was time for my hip arthrogram. When I saw my new doctor a couple of weeks ago, he did tell me that I needed to have a dye injection before my MRI. He said it as though he was breaking bad news. I should've followed my instinct and asked more questions based on his tone, but I didn't. He said, "You're gonna want to go home afterward and rest." OK. Cool. Sign me up. I just have to get a shot? No problem. But then when the hospital called to move up my appointment, they "reminded" me to eat a light breakfast and bring a driver. "Why? Is the dye going to make me feel bad or something?" Response: "Um, let me check." After holding for 5 minutes, I'm told that the dye sometimes makes people feel queasy. OK, well, whatever. I just want to find out what's wrong. If I have to get a big shot, I'll just have to be a big girl.

WRONG.

When I arrived at the hospital and had to wear a hospital ID bracelet, like a real patient, I started getting a teensy bit nervous.

I was taken back to a room that looked like a cluttered operating room. I had to lie down on a table with an x-ray thing above me. They positioned the x-ray thing over my hip, and I could see the picture on a panel next to me. This was to help them guide the needles. Needles, plural. A team of three people hovered over me and started giving me injections of a local anesthetic. OW. This was painful, but was kind of like a bad trip to the dentist. I'm still OK.

Then they brought out the big guns. This entire time, I either had my eyes closed or trained on the ceiling directly over my head. No looking at the x-ray panel; no looking down at the parade of syringes. So I don't think I was freaking out over the idea of what was happening, but the pain of the dye injection was more than I ever prepared for. There was no warning of, "You might feel a pinch here" or anything like that. Just BAM, massive needle entering at around my bikini line all the way into my hip socket, then filling with fluid and pressure. Stabbing pain and pressure. I started getting really hot and I felt sick -- not from the dye itself, I don't think, but from the level of pain. I still had on my street clothes and was wearing a hoodie sweatshirt. It seemed like the ginormous injection went on forever, and by the time they were done, my hair was dripping wet with sweat.

After it was over, I lay there for a minute or two catching my breath, then they were like, "Great job, now hop down off this table and walk to the MRI room." I'm sorry. You want me to WHAT? You mean we're not doing the MRI in here? Can I get a gurney?! They assured me I'd feel better if I started moving. So I got down off the table and made it about three steps before I started to black out. I've never fainted before, but I'm pretty sure I know how it happens now. My hip hurt SO incredibly bad. I was trying to get my bearings, but then everything started going dark and I thought I was going to be sick. That, my friends, will score you a wheelchair. Finally. I spent another 15 minutes back on the table, sans jacket, while two people fanned me and waited for the color to return to my face.

The MRI was cake. Like a big noisy tanning bed. No big deal. But my hip was feeling worse and worse. I could tell things in that neighborhood were numb from the anesthetic, but it still hurt. By the time I got to the car, I was dying. When we got home, I parked myself on the couch and tried to get comfortable, but nothing was comfortable. Within an hour, it felt like the locals were starting to wear off, and all I could do was cry. No matter what I did, my hip and entire right leg ached so bad I could hardly stand it. When the locals completely wore off, I had pain shooting down from my inner and outer hip area to my knee and ankle. But I remembered they said I'd be better off if I kept moving because the dye needed to get out of the joint so it could be absorbed by soft tissue. So every hour or two, I'd get up and shuffle slowly down the hall, crying all the way. The house was littered with used kleenex, and the dog was a nervous wreck.

We all had a rough day.

I learned that when I cry, Bella cries, which does nothing whatsoever to help my mood. Luckily, that only lasted for about 10 hours or so. After that, I stuck to groans and whimpers, which didn't seem to bother her as much.

That was Wednesday, and I couldn't walk normally again until Saturday. I missed work again on Thursday because I was in too much pain to walk from the parking lot and sit all day at a desk, but I made it OK for most of the day Friday.

I never expected a test to be so painful -- it was a thousand times more painful than the actual injury we're looking for. But maybe this will get us some answers. I go back for the results this Thursday, and then hopefully we'll know if there's a labral tear or something else. Wish me luck!