Let’s play a game. I’ll tell you three things about me, one of which is true.
- I am really good at karaoke
- I have never broken a bone.
- My least favorite candy flavor is orange, followed closely by grape.
If you had looked at this list on Wednesday, we’d be playing a difference game. We’d be playing “Spot the false statement.” As of yesterday, however, now it’s “Spot the true statement.” That’s because Item #2 got downgraded to a lie yesterday, when I found out I had broken my very first bone.
It all started two weeks ago, after a nice long run. I stepped off the treadmill and felt pain in my left foot. The whole top of my foot was burning, and it made unhappy little lightning zips every time I walked on it. I finished my workout, went home, and consulted Dr. Google, who diagnosed me with a metatarsal stress fracture.
I shrugged and tried to stay off it for a couple weeks. When the pain subsided and was replaced by a different kind of pain, I decided to consult a foot specialist, who confirmed the stress fracture and gave me a big fancy boot to wear.
This big fancy boot, pictured on the left, will be my more or less constant companion for the next 6-8 weeks. I already dislike it. How am I supposed to keep my carpet clean when I’ve got this big Storm Trooper boot tracking who-knows-what in from the great outdoors?
Also, it gives my left foot an extra inch in height, meaning I either have to walk around with my right foot on tiptoe to compensate or else walk like a lopsided freakshow through the house, boot thunking away like some kind of pirate peg leg.
So now my cardio options are limited to the bike (which sounds like so much fun with a gigantic boot!) or swimming (which I love but have no access to). Still, it could be worse. I could have tried to run on the foot, snapped my metatarsal, and needed surgery to repair the horrible, horrible damage.
I was all giggles at the podiatrist’s office yesterday, though. I just thought it was so silly, this being my first broken bone. I felt like I was going through a rite of passage, and now that I’ve bumbled my way through bringing groceries in with a boot on, I can see that this particular rite of passage kind of sucks.
I’ve got a plan, though, I’m going to mainline calcium, swear undying allegiance to my boot, and rest the heck out of that bone. I’m hoping that at my three week check-up the doctor’s going to take one look at my x-rays and ask me where I found adamantium, and then inquire whether it hurt to have it injected into my foot.
I just have to hope that between now and then I’m not require to be nimble.
Oh, and in case you’re curious, the only true statement from our game above is #3. I’m actually atrocious at karaoke.