We are Great Storytellers

Last part of the Morgan Hill Forest Marathon Series. Thank you for being here.

Felicia walked with me to my car. I could feel her concern as I hobbled across the gravel parking lot. I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat to put on a fresh pair of socks. Clean socks always make me feel better after a run. I grabbed a clean pair of sneakers, opening the laces to insert my right foot. I hobbled around the car to the driver’s side. Felicia asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded. “I think so. I’ll take my time. I’m glad I don’t live that far away.”

“I’ll follow you,” she said.

“Okay, thanks,” I smiled.

I was grateful she didn’t mind making sure I got home safe. The drive was uneventful, and I was thankful that the road took my mind off my throbbing foot. Great job, brain! I was hopeful Jeff and the kids would be home so they could help me into the house. I pulled into the driveway and parked in the garage. Oh, good, Jeff was home. I opened the car door and struggled to stand. The kids came out and helped me. They were my human crutches, Brindsley on one side, Delaney on the other, as I laughed at how ridiculous we looked. My kids were impressed that I finished the race.

Brindsley said, “Mom, you can’t even walk. I can’t believe you finished the race. What guts.”

I laughed. Guts or maybe stupidity. I’ll go with guts.

I couldn’t bear any weight at all, and my concern grew. Did I fracture my foot? This question had never crossed my mind before, but four months ago, I had a DEXA scan to check my bone density, and I learned mine was low—likely due to decreasing estrogen levels, which slow down bone formation. I was grateful I was taking estrogen now to protect my bones, but this question wouldn’t leave me. The kids helped me to the couch to elevate my leg and ice it. In the meantime, I tried to calm my inner turmoil. Give your body time to heal and see how you feel in the morning.

For the rest of the day, I stayed off my foot, iced, did gentle movements, and used compression. I was happy and relieved when I got up the next morning and could stand on my right foot. It hurt and was sore, but I could hobble to the bathroom alone. Victory! I had some stiffness and pain, but standing and walking were good signs. I could already see some improvement; maybe my foot will be okay. I decided to believe this story. I figured if I kept making progress each day, little by little, my body would heal, and I’d be back to running soon.

As each day passed, I could do more movement, slow and short walks (slow is smooth, as my coach would say), and toe movements. I continued with compression, elevation, and ice soaks. I found myself walking with a more heel-to-toe gait and able to place my weight completely on my foot. The swelling was decreasing, and there was no bruising.

After two weeks of steadily increasing my walks and physical activity, I was able to start running again with minimal discomfort. My coach guided me back, helping me progress my ankle and foot load. Looking back, I’m still amazed at how incredible our bodies are at healing. I’m thankful this pain didn’t become an injury.

I used to tell myself I wasn’t a good storyteller. I laugh. My mind was creating a story about a fractured foot—saying I wouldn’t be able to run, that I might need a cast and be on crutches. How will I drive? How will I get around? The story goes on. I noticed and decided to tell myself another story: Your foot will heal. Give your body time to recover. Eat well, prioritize sleep, and keep moving and loading as your coach advises. You’ll be back to running soon and will respect the trail even more because of this.