I'm trying to work my way through another fit of frustration right now.  I hate when I feel this way, even though I know it will eventually pass.  But right now I'm smack dab in the middle of it.

Some background first.  I used to be a fat boy.  A very fat boy.  A 300 lb fat boy.  And that fat boy spent most of his working life in the world of retail.  It meant long days on my feet.  For years.  And being that big and on my feet for that long meant that I did some real damage to my feet.  By the time I finally got out of retail, the problems started showing up.  I've got neuromas in both feet.  It got so bad in one of my feet that I ended up going through a series of injections to kill the nerve endings in and around the neuroma so that I could walk.  

Anyway, I've been experiencing more pain in my left foot for quite a while now, but it's something that I could live with.  It's been going on for a few years.  Recently, it started to feel worse, so I finally made an appointment with an orthopedist to have this addressed.  His exam turned up no good reason why my foot should hurt.  I had x-rays taken of both feet so that he could look and compare and still saw nothing out of the ordinary.  He gave me three choices as to how to proceed from there.  I could get an orthotic, which he wasn't convinced would do much, I could have an MRI done on my foot to see if that would turn up anything else or I could just live with it.  I decided to do the MRI first, just to rule out any other problem.  I go on Wednesday for that.

But since he said he saw no reason why my foot should hurt, I decided to do something foolish.  I went to the gym and I decided I was going to run.  I don't run because of my feet.  I don't run because of my knees (but my knees have been feeling amazing for a while now, so why not?)  So I ran.  I didn't do much, but I did better than I thought I would do.  I ran for sixteen straight minutes, and then two more stretches of about ten minutes each.  And I felt good.  Really good.  My feet held up.  My knees held up.  It was a good day.  

I missed the gym for the next week because I got sick and then was away for a few days, but earlier this week, I decided to run again.  My only goal was to do better than the last time I ran.  And I did.  I ran for thirty solid minutes before I had to slow down to a walk, and then two more shorter intervals before I was done.  Again, I felt amazing when I was done.  Until the next day.  My feet couldn't take the abuse.  And since then, I've been hurting.  Not to the point that I can't walk or anything like that, but there's constant aching in both feet.  Which sucks, but in a way is good.  I'm having that MRI in a few days and maybe this will show something in the foot that the exam and x-ray didn't.  But I'm so fucking frustrated that I'm not going to be able to run.  I never had an interest in running (or any other physical activity, for that matter) when I was younger.  Now that I'm older and trying to keep in the shape a healthy person is supposed to be in, I keep hitting road blocks. But it's my own damn fault.  If I'd just taken care of myself when I was in my 20s and 30s, I wouldn't be so pissed off in my 40s.  I should be happy that there are plenty of other things my body is still allowing me to do, but I'm focusing on what my body won't.  And that's just making those things more desirable.

I know this frustration will pass soon.  As soon as my feet start feeling better.  But for the moment, I'm working up to a slow rage at myself.

No comments: