I have become a very miserable person.
I’ve been walking around in pain for a few weeks now, with my left foot under variations of the above taping by my physio.
When it first started hurting and I was told to rest, it was a welcome but guilty reprieve from the training I’ve been (attempting) to do for my first half-marathon. Awesome! I no longer have to fight a mental war every night I get off work! Dinner will now regain its rightful place in my day!
A few weeks on, it is seriously getting me down. I can’t even walk to the bathroom without feeling it with every step.
Plus, going around the office in your work clothes and running shoes is as unglamorous as one can get. It’s flippin hot and I can’t wear a skirt. Last time I wore a skirt with running shoes, I was in highschool. Look, I’m not the type to fuss about what I wear, but I think pencil skirt + running shoes is just downright frumpy.
I can’t hike. I can’t play hockey. I can’t do rugby. And those are really the only things I do outside of work.
When I get home, I collapse onto the floor with an ice pack on my foot. I’m too weary from the pain to bring myself to do all the things around our new flat that needs to be done.
What makes it worst is the (expensive) physiotherapy and exercises I’m assigned to do each week doesn’t seem to be working. If I’m seeing at least some progress, I can be more optimistic about it.
So I am now in a Very Miserable Dump. This might sound like one big rant (which it admittedly is), but if you do a lot of sports yourself, you’d know that when a sportsperson can’t play, it feels like the end of the world.
Ok, yes. So I’m feeling sorry for myself. *pity* *pity*
Now excuse me while I go find someone else to pity me.