This morning, as I see the Tough Mudder finishing posts by friends on Facebook, I feel a tinge of guilt and a shred of shame for not having gone through with the race myself. I signed up for the race, and dragged two girlfriends in with me, on the high of another, much smaller, less intense obstacle race that I'd finished many months back. I knew at the time that I'd be running the Chicago Marathon and then the St. Pete Women's Half Marathon in the two months prior to the Tough Mudder event, but I hadn't anticipated feeling as weary and broken down as I did after the initial two races. I've never not run a race I signed up for (except in the case of an inhibiting injury), but the mere thought of struggling across monkey bars, swimming through cold mud-water, and subjecting myself to electrocution--all in the name of fun, mind you--made me feel anything but tough. And if my head wasn't in it, there'd be little hope of convincing my body through it. So I bailed and ate the pricey entry fee.
I'm now more than 12 weeks recovered from my second (and final!) foot surgery, and life is starting to feel a little more normal. When I l ast wrote an update , seven weeks ago (still blaming Irma for all of my delays), I had just gotten off of crutches but would wear my boot for two more weeks. I've been out of the boot and walking in shoes for just over five weeks. The constant discomfort I've felt in my foot from swelling is finally starting to wane. I work in the office now, I do my own groceries, and I even attended a work conference recently, which meant lots of walking at airports and the conference hotel, frequent standing, and few opportunities to elevate and ice. I was very concerned about how my feet, particularly the left one, would endure. And while it wasn't comfortable, I made it through, no worse for the wear in the end. I joined a new gym/community center recently, with a new and beautiful outdoor pool, and I'm so happy that I'm able to use
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