I’m not sure if I should be running yet or not, but I’m not experiencing pain, so I figure I am okay. We’ll see what the “doctor” says when he finds out.
I do not know how to recover. I am awful at injury (self-titled). Depressed. Despondent. Bored. Grumblecakes. All bad things. And they definitely all lead to me refusing to really be injured.
My method to recovery is to wait about one day, and then hit the pool to see what I can do. If my legs are hurt, I’ll pull. If my arms are hurt, I’ll try kicking. Lately, my favored plan is deep-water running. It requires a foam belt be firmly strapped around your waist, so you wind up looking something like this:
Sure, you feel a little silly. Okay, you feel a lot silly. At first. But if it’s the only exercise you can do, then it’s what you can do.
On top of the water running, I walk. I start short, and quickly try to go for at least an hour. Enlisting friends in this situation is extremely helpful. Talking and walking is exponentially more fun than just walking. I tend to dislike walking because it is so darn slow. It takes forever to get anywhere. However, an accomplice can keep you from noticing that is has taken an hour to walk a 5k route, versus the less than 30 minutes you may be accustomed to.
Once the water running and the walking feel okay, I bring in swimming. I’ll water run for half and hour, and then swim for as long as I can. This increases slowly but steadily. After all this, I start trying to run. I start by bouncing on my feet, making sure I am able to support my weight and see what kind of pain I might be in for. Then I promise myself that if it hurts, I will walk. Then I strap on my shoes and head out the door.
Last but not least, I bring soccer back. So that’s the plan for Monday. I’m bringing the soccer back in. I have faith.
But not so much that I’m leaving my ankle unwrapped.