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 one and a half weeks out from my second foot surgery, and, by all important measures, I'm doing well. But boy has the past week been difficult. In the first few days post-surgery I was in a pretty good mood; the surgery had gone well, I was in the excellent care of my mom, and I had made it past the last major hurdle of this months-long event. All I had to look forward to was recovery and progress and gradually returning to my normal life, whatever that might look like.
But even though I've gone through this process once already, it's still just as difficult this time around. There's the constant worrying about this weird feeling or that new pain, the accidental step in the middle of the night when I forgot which foot was injured, and the agonizing wait time between appointments. Now it's compounded by concern over whether I'm taking good enough care of my first foot. Did I ruin the surgery when I stubbed my toe falling off an exercise ball? Am I using …
But even though I've gone through this process once already, it's still just as difficult this time around. There's the constant worrying about this weird feeling or that new pain, the accidental step in the middle of the night when I forgot which foot was injured, and the agonizing wait time between appointments. Now it's compounded by concern over whether I'm taking good enough care of my first foot. Did I ruin the surgery when I stubbed my toe falling off an exercise ball? Am I using …
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