Yesterday Kelly and I took off to run the 5K to support a local high school. It was ridiculously cold. We were bundled up in a million different layers... but we were going for it.
When we got to the park, we signed in and got our numbers. We went back to the car to put our shirts up. It was then we realized... Kelly had her house key tied to her shoe, not her car key. Oh, and our cell phones were locked in the car. And her husband doesn't have a car, just a motorcycle.
So we bummed cell phones off some girls there. I called Micah to tell him to stay at his parents house until we got there (we were planning to run 6 after the 5K) and have him take us to get a key. It wasn't my phone and the wind was blowing so my message got all messed up. He told me later he thought "bethany" had called and he needed to stay there until she got there.
Anyway, at this point we decided there was really nothing else we could do. So we lined up at the starting line, jumping and attempting to be semi-warm. The gun blasted and we took off. It was then that my ankle popped and I knew I was in trouble. I started running anyway and made it a mile. At 1 mile, I had to stop. Kelly was sweet enough to limp with me back to another point and get a phone from someone else.
Micah picked us up and I've been following "RICE" that my PT friends told me- rest, ice, compression and elevation. Well, following is probably not the right word. Arguing with Micah that I'm fine is more like it... Even though my left ankle is twice as big as my right ankle. I've never been one to admit when I'm hurt and do things to make myself better.
I have been instructed that I need to make an appointment with a running specialist tomorrow to have my ankles checked out before I carry on my marathon training. We'll see how that goes...
