It's been over 7 months since I woke up one morning with pain in both heels. I have been to 2 MDs, 3 PTs, an acupuncturist, a massage therapist, gone through tons of ice and ibuprofen, prayed to various gods, and even worn funny socks that keep my foot dorsi-flexed through the night while I attempt sleep.
Nothing has changed...
...well, that's not true: I'm about a thousand dollars poorer. But my heels still hurt and I can't hike, jog, or run.
I started out addressing this injury aggressively: I went to see Mark Plaatjes. Everyone says he's painful, and they are right. I almost cried during the visit, but the Catholic-upbringing-side of me enjoyed the suffering. Unfortunately, I didn't really get any relief from my injury.
I've studied endlessly on the topic of Achilles problems, and I now know more than I ever wanted to now, but I'm no where nearer a solution. One authority said that this injury is so frustrating that some medical professionals like to say "the only sure cure for Achilles tendinitis is death."
Anyway, to be a bit more positive, I went through the summer swimming vigorously. I got my 500 down sub 7min (my PR is 5:25, but that was college and I was swimming 25k yards a week). My weight went from 205 to 166. My cholesterol from 232 to 171. I felt better, looked better, but it was hard dealing with the frustration of wanting to run and not being able to.
I hired a running coach who is amazing, but even her wisdom and experience couldn't help me beat this thing. She had me hike flat ground, consistent and slow, watching my form, measuring my overall mileage. But eventually, after 3 months, I just gave up.
So now I'm a couch potato again. I've gotten busy and lost the urge to swim (honestly, it's boring). I'm going to try and keep the weight off, but finding exercise is still a challenge.
I ran into John "Homie" Prater recently at a New Year's party, and talking to him made me realize how much I missed getting outside since I gave up about 3 months ago. I genuinely love just being outside... I need it. And I still refuse to believe that, at age 48, my body can't handle a little bit of it.
More time I guess... and patience...
