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Six weeks ago this happened:

That's an x-ray of the arch of my right foot. If you look at the fifth metatarsal (upper pinky toe) right at the joint you'll see a complete fracture. 

This particular fracture is apparently common enough to warrant it's own term. This is called a Jones Fracture after a doctor named Jones who first identified the physics behind this fracture. Dr. Jones found that his patients often suffered this fracture near the joint when pressure was applied laterally to the outside of the foot. 

Dr. Jones was spot on. I would like to say that the lateral force was attributed to an extreme activity like doing parkour during my son's baseball practice or testing the new American Ninja Warrior course in my backyard. Maybe attribute some blame to stress fractures from recent marathon training or overuse injury. I'd also rather be able to blame the injury on an equipment malfunction such as breaking a pedal on my hardtail mountain bike while attempting a log pile climb. I'd even be willing to admit to just olain being a bit drunk and stumbling down some stairs.

But I can't honestly say any of those things happened, even to strangers on the internet.

A close friend from high school was in town from Maryland and another of our friends was having a barbeque for everyone to meet up rather than having her try to make dates with everyone separately. I did have a couple beers but I definitely can't place any blame on them. 

I kept my rolling cooler out on the front step so at the end of the night I went out to bring it back out to the car. I was barefoot and stepped down onto the front landing. I didn't really pay any mind to the welcome mat that was down there because, well, it was a welcome mat. They don't really require attention unless their artisitic or funny and this one was neither really. It was rather unnoteworthy save for one minor detail: it was over an inch thick.

I somehow managed to place my foot directly on the edge of the mat which caused my foot to roll to the outside. All my weight went onto the outside of my foot and I made it worse by reacting trying to catch myself. There was a loud onomatopoeius *pop*, I caught myself just fine and the host of the party who was standing right behind me asked "Was that your foot?!" 

I knew right away it was a broken bone, but it didn't hurt. It was that dull burning sensation you feel with a fracture and the fact that I felt the pop through my whole body that confirmed it for me. 

I played it down and just said that my ankle just popped from being stiff from running then just went on with the night while gugrly walking and trying not to limp. 

Got home, iced and elevated and waited to see what it looked like in the morning.

Woke up, swollen but not much color but I couldn't bend my foot in any direction without sharp pain. 

Here's what it looked like the following evening after a flight to DC for work:

At the point of this picture I knew it was broken by intuition but was still holding out hope via denial that maybe it was just a sprain instead. I iced it repeatedly [every time I woke up through the night] and laced up my formal work shoes gingerly in the morning to act as my cast until I got home.

I used the airport trolley for the first time in my life to get from security to gate at Reagan Int'l and felt every air pocket at 30,000 feet. 

The xrays were taken the next day with an order for an aircast and 6 weeks to heal. 

Here we are, 6 weeks later. I've been able to walk without pain or favoring my other foot for about two weeks and I started my own physical therapy sessions at home doing basic strerchinn and ankle exercises. I finished a 2-ish mile test run earlier this week and am happy to report that there was only minimal swelling and the only pain was felt in the surrounding joints that have atrophied a bit in my 1.5 month recovery.

Unfortunately, as my last post prominently announces, the reason I reactivated this blog is coming up in 3 weeks. I am VERY tempted to just wing it and give it the ol' senior year college try, but we've also just got approval to buy a house in three weeks so there's no chance that I'm going to risk my motor skills for a half-assed marathon attempt. 

The good news is that our new place is just a mile from my favorite running trails at Lebanon Hills. Cold beer will always be waiting for any running partners at the end of the trail. 

Motivation Hunting

Two posts in two days? On this blog?!

Yes. I went to bed with the intention of waking up at 6:00 for a short treadmill run. I succumbed to my routine over the last two years of hitting snooze twice and rolling over until my regular daily alarm went off signaling the morning before-school-circus was to begin. 

So I'll be running tonight instead. It's killing me that I didn't follow through on my "first run" so this morning I've been putting together motivation tools to get my ass moving. Nothing truly new for me. I dug up the flash drive with my old training log from the 70.3 training year and saved it to my laptop's harddrive for easy access with a brand new, bright and shiny tab labeled "2015". Did some retail therapy and bought a new pair of training shoes to kick off my new mileage counter (a new brand to me: Saucony Verrata). 

But what I just found to be the best motivator was digging through some things from my 'past life' (yes, it's just two years ago but it seems like forever).

I read my Almanzo 100 report from 2013 then kept scrolling to read my 70.3 report. Gasp...I forgot that I didn't write anything here about it. It never happened!

Luckily, Professor Boz hasn't deleted his blog. Boz was generous enough to show up and practice some of his writing skills using me as a subject back in 2012. He followed me around the course all day and made his own race report which he merged together with my own account and posted to his blog in daily installments. I had originally meant to post coincidentally with his posts but never did. 

Without further redundant explanation, here is Part I of our Chisago Lakes Triathlon race report.

[Target identified]

That's the text from my wife that is kick-starting me back into training. We've got a tag-team style of parenting between my weekly travel and her working nights and weekends where, unless we're both training for something at the same time, it's hard to make time to support the other in their journey.

When I was getting into bike racing and triathlon back in '08 and '09, we had just one child. I'll admit that I was putting a LOT more time into training and competing than she was, but she was still running and working out with her own goals at the same time.

Two-kids-within-16-months later, our fitness goals went mostly out the window in the sleep-deprived haze of raising babies. I still finished a 70.3 and met a few other fitness goals along the way, but nowhere near as much as I wanted. She, obviously, sacrificed much more than I did and it took embarrassingly long for me to realize that. 

Which brings me to the last two years. I've all but given up on signing up for anything endurance related. Our schedule is crazy just with trying to balance our own work schedules, let alone adding in the kids' activities at an exponential rate. We were both active children ourselves and want nothing more than for our kids to be active and happy and involved, which is why we promote and encourage their involvement at the expense of our own "free time." We cancelled our dusty and expensive gym membership long ago in lieu of getting our own treadmill (which we paid off within 5 months of our saved gym membership dues). I built up my own little DIY home gym and got into body weight training as an answer to my busy travel schedule and needing to be able to workout wherever I could. 

Wife was able to run the DisneyWorld Marathon in 2014, but not at 100%. She came down with pneumonia right in the middle of her peak training which made her go into the race nearly cold turkey. But it was all pre-paid already and she wasn't going to waste a trip to Disney. She got up early with her running mates and decided to just run until she couldn't do it anymore...but she finished! AND she got some great photos with Disney characters along the way during her walk breaks. 

I still run once or twice a week with my trusty training partner, Dixie the dog, but haven't run more than 10k in two years.

The wife and I have talked here and there about getting back into things. She's disappointed with her Disney marathon luck and just plain wants to get back into shape. She knows my passion for all things sport and knows how dangerous of a trigger it is to send documented permission to sign up for something as big as a marathon. 

But I signed us both up. We might run together, we might not. The intent is to train-together-but-not-together most of the time, but moreso to tackle this and learn how to both train for something and accomplish personal goals without sacrificing the million other family obligations. The medal won't just signify our ability to finish a marathon; we both know we can do that individually. It will signify a new accomplishment done together in our marriage. 

So, here's to Day 1.