Like most injured people, I've set goals for myself throughout my recovery. There have been small goals: standing still without my crutches, putting shoes on without wincing. There have been bigger goals too: being able to sleep through the night without waking up with nerve pain and swimming again. Focusing on what I wanted to accomplish - no matter how big or small - was what kept me looking forward and looking up. Eventually, I had set up so many hoops to jump through I began to feel like a trained seal.
Now, though, I'm reaching one of my final hoops. It's a daunting one, but jumping through it will be a sure sign that I'm on my way to full recovery. Here it goes: I'm going to run my first 5k since being hit.
This makes more sense when taken in context. As a former high school varsity cross-country runner, 5k races punctuated my weeks every autumn like periods punctuate sentences. In the off-season, I swam or played tennis, but still ran regularly. There was always one off-season race that was a given: the annual Turkey Trot.
I've run the Turkey Trot essentially every year since I was seven years old. It wasn't always a 5k - up until I was 13, it was just a mile run. But it was still the Turkey Trot. And it was still on Thanksgiving Day. There was always something about the atmosphere - the electric early morning chill, the collective energy of hundreds of people ready to run, the excitement of seeing runner friends who were home from college on break that kept me coming back each year.
Needless to say, it crossed my mind more than once that I might need to miss out on this annual tradition to allow my fractures to heal completely. Pelvic fractures typically are slow healers, and I had three of them to handle. When I began my self-directed physical therapy regimen, I thought of it as training. I could ride a stationary bike for 10 minutes, then 15, then 20. Soon I could swim without kicking. Then I could swim normally and bike longer. And a few short weeks ago, I made the wonderful discovery that I could run again.
It started with brief little jaunts from my dorm to the Zehmer Hall parking lot and back. Soon I was running all the way to John Paul Jones Arena. Within two weeks, I was running a four-mile loop with a friend. The world, from my perspective, was falling back into balance. I made the realization while running home on Alderman one day - I could run a race by Thanksgiving.
With that realization came more hoops that I would soon jump through: the walking-intensive J-Term course in Ireland I'd signed up for would be a painless experience. I was relieved to know I'd be navigating the bumpy roads on foot and not on a rickety bike or, even worse, on crutches.
Before the J-Term trip will be my return to fox hunting. My orthopedist confirmed during my final follow-up visit that I will indeed be healthy enough to ride in second flight - otherwise known as the slow-mo version of the actual fox hunt. Together with my upcoming 5k, these other events are carrying me through the final steps of my return to normal life. I have no delusions about my competitiveness in the upcoming race, however - being that I was injured only 3 months ago, I'll be happy if I can keep up with the power-walking grandmas who bring up the back of the pack each year. I'll be happy if I have enough energy to sprint the last 100 meters. Most of all, I'll be happy if I can turn around after the finish line, look back and know that five kilometers is just an infinitesimal fraction of how far I've come.
Courtney's column runs biweekly. She can be reached at c.hartnett@cavalierdaily.com.
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