I have been sitting on my duff for 2 days now, reading the first novel in the Apollo series by Rick Riordan. I am feeling that is ironic to be reading Greek mythology when I hurt my foot running after watching the beautiful race of Eliud Kipchoge in the Men's Olympic marathon. It also feels ironic that my thought was always that Achille's heel was a tendon rupture, but with the familiar lancing pain stemming from the insertion of my plantar fascia, I wonder if this wasn't the Greek hero's heel problem.
Turns out I should have just left well enough alone, and heel step like I had been for the last 6 weeks. None of the runners do that in the Olympics, though, and so I though I should try it out on Monday. By the ten minute mark, I had tried to correct my mistake, but then my ankle didn't seem to get any messages from my foot, and feeling disconnected from my right shin to the ground, I kept up an easy run, starting to shortcut the route, knowing that I still had about 4km left to get home.
So here I sit, with a pair of crutches my constant companion, and Princess Pirate playing mother with glee.
At least the ice pack is a relief in this heat wave, but I can feel my muscles atrophying and cardio dropping off, and I am terrified at how long it will be before I can get back it.
So, instead of running, I will write. I will try and get back to running as soon as I can, and not forget what I have done. And I will wear insoles and only run on trails, after I ice my heel as much as possible until I am back at it.
I will also likely finish the Apollo series, and maybe the Heroes of Olympus, if I have too much time on my hands.
It has been quite a lesson in dependence and gratitude. I am not used to anyone doing anything for me, and I am told that I am bad patient. That being said, Princess Pirate has been very dutiful in taking care of me. She makes me meals, cleans up, carries my crutches, and generally chastises me for trying anything but moving to the couch with crutches.
She has spent a LOT of time in the kitchen cleaning up, brings me breakfast in bed, composts every day, and revels in making a meal without a recipe.
She made fresh pesto from the garden basil, and learned that canola oil is not EVOO. She has doctored our drinks with mint and lemon thyme, served me hot beverages, microwaved cheddar apple filled tortillas for a decent quesadilla, and, for the first time ever, boiled water unsupervised to serve us pasta with a side of corn, bean and cheddar salad.
I miss the climbing gym and waterslides and organizing the basement plans that we had this week, but I have seen a responsible side to PP that I didn't know possible, indulged in watching the first sport climbing Olympic event to debut at Tokyo 2020, and started to focus on the writing that was missing in July when I started running.
My heel has cooled down a lot, so I hope this "sprain" calms down faster than the plantar fasciitis I got when I was in Spain and lasted for 6 months.
In the meantime, I have one more day to be spoiled and cooked for, so I booked us a swim tomorrow afternoon, and will get to bed soon. When breakfast arrives, PP has no qualms about waking me to enjoy it!
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