The Muddy Sneaker: a 20K trail race through rock-filled, root-choked, mud-luscious Naples, NY---it's one of the most fun races in the spring. My goals for the race, in order of importance:
1. Finish without twisting my ankle or plummeting to my rocky death.
2. Commune with nature.
3. Improve on last year's time.
Well, I manage to achieve goal #2. Within the first mile I had rolled my ankle twice. I slowed down after the 2nd twist and figured I'd take it slow, scrap goal #3, and finish this run. By mile 2, I rolled the same ankle a third time. The pain stopped me in my tracks. The decision was obvious: walk back to the start line and ice the damn ankle. Eagleman is only 10 weeks away, a much bigger fish to fry.
My ankle swelled to about twice normal size despite hourly icing, compression, NSAID's, and elevation. Kevin called it my Cankle.
As I am no stranger to running injuries--in fact, I'm quite sure I was the poster child for overtraining in the 1990's--I looked at my Cankle as an opportunity for working on "limiters" (aka the things I suck at but don't want to put in the work to improve).
So I took my Cankle on a long bike ride and practiced climbing hills seated. The Cankle protested with any out of saddle pedalling.
Then I took the Cankle for a swim. Flutter kicking with one foot in dorsiflexion really tested my ability to balance in the water. I made wide, crooked arcs pushing off the wall with one foot. So to give gimpy ankle a rest, I worked on my catch and pull. Ugh! I'm a noodle-armed roadie who likes to hammer up hills standing on my pedals.
Finally, today the Cankle turned into a purple, normal-sized ankle. I took it for a run. I was so relieved of the lack of pain that I forgot about my DNF, my last two races with bad results, the runner I used to be but no longer am. My Cankle reminded me how much I really love to run.
Thanks, Cankle--you freakin' pain in the ass result of lax joints!
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