Funk

I was suppose to run six miles this weekend. I was suppose to feel great about my continued progress towards my half marathon. Instead, I am sitting on my tush with a swollen ankle and a bag of frozen potatoes, and I'm pissed. And depressed. And just down right grumpy.

Last Thursday I went for 3.75 mile run and was marveling at how my left foot seems to have totally recovered from the tendinitis I was experiencing, when I started to feel dull pain in my right ankle, the ankle I sprained back in early February. I didn't think too much of the discomfort, assuming at worst I might need a small insert for my right foot as well as my left. I finished my run and went about my day. A few hours later I noticed that my ankle was swelling just as it had when I sprained it. Crap. It's been swollen and sore ever since. Obviously I decided not to run this weekend, and I took it easy, iced it and dutifully took my ibprophen, to no avail, it is just as bad as it was on Thursday afternoon.

Now what? I know I will need to visit the podiatrist, and hopefully he will have something brilliant and encouraging to say outside of, "ice, rest, meds." I want him to give me a brace and tell me to get right back out there ASAP.

I don't want to lose ground. I have worked to hard to slip back now. I don't want to stop running, I don't want to start losing strength and muscle while going up a pant size.  I know that this is far from a tragedy, but it certainly has got in me in a funk.

Will I ever be a runner?