‘When I was in Vegas…’ a Story by Lisa Selwood
‘When I was in Vegas…’ I am certain these words have been the opening sentence for many a great story or two. But when I was in Vegas, I tripped and fell off a pavement, fractured my ankle and chipped off two pieces of bone. And before you ask, I was not inebriated, I was going for a run at 07:30am. (Regarding inebriation, alcoholic slushies are mandatory in Vegas. But I was not running with one. Promise.) I sat in a wheelchair, with my bag clutched on my lap, in order to get from one side of the airport to another, which was a bit mortifying for someone who had run a half marathon a few days earlier. I touched down in Sydney and hobbled to the GP the next day who reassured me it was not broken, merely sprained. I apologise to my medical insurance for the exorbitant Sunday consultation fee, but I hadn’t run in three days and needed to get back on the road, so I needed to see a doctor RIGHT NOW. Anyway, the GP was wrong, and a few days later, I was having x-rays and ultrasounds.
Following the rather displeasing results, I limped off to the physio who advised a moon boot. Far too stubborn for that, because I was naively convinced this little annoyance would be done and dusted within two weeks or so, I elected for an ankle brace. And when I say ‘elected’, I turned to the physio like a petulant child, stared at him straight in the eye and said, ‘I will not use that.’ Well that saw me returning to the physio three days later, to sheepishly ask for the moon boot. Again, I apologise to my medical insurance for the extra physio consultation and the cost of an unnecessary ankle brace.
I was stuck in that bloody thing for six weeks. Six weeks, I might add, in summer. Six weeks of no running. Six weeks of no high heels (it’s important to me, ok). The first week I didn’t do anything physical, which wasn’t good for me, my mental health, or the people around me. My colleague accused me of bashing my keyboard in obvious anger. And was it necessary to slam the mouse down on the desk? Any reason for the heavy sights and muttered retorts? She soon stopped with the criticism after receiving a strongly worded retort, followed by an onslaught of tears and loud stomping in the moon boot as I gathered up my things and flounced out the office. Right-eo. I found a gym close to me and started strength classes. I received many a strange look as I did box step ups, rowing, burpees, and push ups with the moon boot on, but I was single minded in my efforts to continue exercising and keeping fit.
When I finally was allowed to take the moon boot off, I couldn’t wait to do my first run. I vowed to do short and slow. I vowed to do strength exercises. I vowed to eat right, and not drink so much wine and get the requisite number of hours of sleep. Anything to please, please, please not get injured again. (Turns out the running gods don’t care about vows and pleas. Or maybe it’s just me). It was my last week living in Sydney and on my first run, the sunrise did not disappoint. What did disappoint, after trotting along in elation for 100m, was how seriously unfit I was. After 5km at a pace at least 1 minute per kilometre slower than my usual pace, I could hardly breathe, and my legs were sore. Surely, I couldn’t have lost that much fitness in 6 weeks? Maybe it was just a bad day.
Well, that was early December, and here we are, mid-January, and if that was a bad day then basically every day since has been, or felt like, a repeat of that first run. Yes, I had lost that much running fitness in six weeks. A 10km felt like a marathon. Running a bit faster on a flat section felt like a time trial. The day after some runs felt like Comrades. I was not a happy camper. But I had an epiphany earlier this week. Whilst we should absolutely celebrate our successes and all the hard work put in to get there, maybe I should also consider a few things about coming back that are not completely negative.
So…when I felt like giving up, I still showed up. When I felt like I couldn’t do it, I adjusted my pace, slowed down, walked when I needed to, and I did it. When a hill came up, I did the best I could to get up as much of it as I could. It may not have been anything to write home about, but it was a bit more than yesterday. I found people close to me, who were willing to run at my pace. Choose your tribe and keep them close because when you need them, they will be there.
I miss those days of an easy 10km. Where you look at your watch and see you’re running pretty fast, but it feels like a walk in the park. Where you smash the hills, and it doesn’t feel like too much of an effort. When you finish feeling like you could do that all over again. I don’t have those days at the moment. But I am going to keep trying until I have them back. I won’t let the injury obstacle stand in my way of doing something I love. And these are pretty good metaphors for life. Show up, be flexible in your approach, do your best, have an awesome inner circle, and don’t let obstacles stand in your way. Don’t take the things that come easily to you for granted. And my last life lesson for you? Pavements can be deadly. I give them a very wide berth these days. I suggest you do too.
