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.
