Three months was adequate time for my talus bone to heal and
now it was time to put weight on my left foot. Appointments with the physical
therapist now replaced my triathlon-training program. Instead of swimming laps
in the pool, I picked up marbles with my toes and dropped them in a cup. The
bike rides were traded for heel raises and toe points, and miles of running
were exchanged for exercises with resistance bands wrapped around the balls of
my feet.
To say I felt defeated would be an understatement. I would
easily run miles, not fast – but far, and now I could not even stand without
assistance. Since the doctor cleared me to put weight on my foot, the process
began with a scale and I pushed down with a certain amount of weight and
held it, gradually increasing the amount of pressure over time. More and
more exercises helped me get a bit more comfortable with the thought of putting
my entire weight on my injured extremity.
I have never endured as much physical pain as I had with my
foot, so to “just walk on it” not only took physical training, but mental
focus. The strengthening of my foot and left leg gradually took time, and if
someone has wondered what happens when a leg is not used in three months, let’s
just say, it’s not pretty. Literally, not pretty. There was absolutely no
muscle tone; atrophy of all the major muscle groups and my left butt cheek just
sagged! Yep, there needs to be resistance to keep a lifted derrière.
With months of therapy and diligently doing my physical therapy
homework, I was up and walking. It still hurt with every step, but I was making
progress. I received a Fitbit for Christmas to track my steps, not only to make
sure I walked enough, but also to ensure I did not go over the number of steps that
would cause me additional pain.
Goals have always been important for me, and I knew I needed
something to accomplish, some sort of a goal to conquer, to keep me focused on
my walking. Since Sophia’s birthday landed on a Saturday this year, I knew
there had to be a race I could participate in to honor her and accomplish a 5K,
somewhere away so we could be inconspicuous.
On May 11, 2019, draped in Minions with Richard, Daniel,
Megan and Matthew by my side, we began my first 5K since the accident. (James
and Naomi joined us by being virtual participants.) I of course could not run, but the race also
had a 10K, so I was certain we would not be the last ones. The race was the day
before Mother’s Day and fittingly called the Super Mom Race because of the
timing in the year, but my feelings did not reflect that title.
A more fitting name may have been Surviving Mom Race, but it
was a victory for me, even in this quiet, low-key setting. We finished the race, received our t-shirts
and medals, and left to grab lunch at a nearby restaurant. Nothing about that
day seemed right, especially having lunch without Sophia on her birthday – she should
have been there blowing out 19 candles on her cake. Instead, we sat quietly, overlooking
Lake Lanier, with tears in our eyes wishing we could have another birthday with
her.
My race in this life looks differently now, and I am not
sure of the terrain up ahead. “Let us run with endurance the race God has set
before us.” (Hebrews 12:1) I would have gladly chosen a different course in
this race - this one has had more unexpected twists and turns than I could have
ever imagined. However, I am hoping and praying with my upcoming ankle surgery,
my continued race will be with less physical pain. Despite the challenges I face, I plan to run with endurance and perseverance, and to always be
faithful to the One who has my whole course laid out for me.
