It was mid-morning on a mild January day. I was stir crazy and stressed, and needed some time in the woods. I hopped in the car, drove into Rock Creek Park and laced on my running shoes. I was going to do a quick 5-mile run on trails I know like the back of my hand.
The first part of the run was a steady climb up a small hill, then a sharp turn to the right and a steep downhill to the river. I’ve run this trail dozens, if not hundreds of times.
I rounded the corner and braced for the downhill. I planted my feet with each step, spreading my arms out wide to center my gravity.
One step, two step, three steps.
Crack
It happened so fast. My ankle rolled under me. I took another step on my other foot. I grabbed a tree trunk to stop my movement, swinging around and falling to a sit on an old log.
Adrenaline kicked in.
My mind started rushing. Did I really hear a crack? My ankle was throbbing, but energy was rushing through every fiber of my being. I breathed deeply, trying to calm my rapidly increasing breath.
What did you DO Katie? Oh no, oh no.
I called Chris. He didn’t answer. I called him again, and again, and again. It felt like ages for him to finally pick up - in my mind, at least 15 minutes. Looking back at call logs, I made a rapid succession of calls - 15 or 20, within just a few minutes time. He finally picked up. I was crying. I could hear the worry in his voice as he asked me what was wrong.
I stood up, testing my weight on my ankle. Not so bad, I thought. Not great, but I could stand, and I could walk. Very slowly, I started to climb back up the hill, and attempt the 3/4 mile hike back to my car. Every step was slow and deliberate.
A group of hikers passed me. I was crying. They kept moving, and only briefly asked me if I was ok. In the moment, I hated humanity. I was in agony.
It took me 30 minutes to hike those 3/4 miles back to the car. In that time, Chris had gathered ice and towels, hailed a taxi, and arrived at the trail head. He took my arm, and helped me the final steps to the car. He opened the back door, and I backed myself in - scooting slowly backwards across the back seat, with my leg lengthwise on the seat. Chris wrapped my ankle with ice, and I began to sob.
Every bump on the road felt like an ice pick jabbing into my flesh. I haven’t cried that hard in a long, long time.
We got to the apartment, and I slowly climbed the three floors up to our apartment. I sat on the couch, and began to panic.
My ankle was so swollen the ankle bone disappeared, and swelling went all the way down to my toes and up my shin bone.
I didn’t have health insurance at the time. I was 3 days in to a new job, and their insurance plans kicks in 30 days after hire. I hadn’t elected for COBRA because I as young, healthy, and didn’t want to spend the hundreds of dollars for a month of coverage.
I didn’t know if my ankle was broken or not, but I knew I couldn’t afford an xray or doctors visit. I made some calls, got some advice, and ordered a boot for my foot.
I booted myself for 3 weeks, and then tenderly began reintroducing my foot to the ground.
In early March, I went on a 9 mile hike. In retrospect, a bad idea.
In early April, I began slowly running again. That was definitely a bad idea.
In late May, I had to drive to Baltimore every day for a conference. My ankle started throbbing.
I called my doctor and asked her if I could come in. She got an update from me on the history of the past few months. She immediately sent me to an orthopedic surgeon. He x-rayed my ankle, and discovered IT WAS STILL BROKEN.
His exact words when he first looked at the image were “you are one tough lady”. He said he had only seen 3 cases like this in his time practicing medicine, and couldn’t believe I had toughed this out.
He sent me to PT, to get an MRI, and asked me to come back in a month. I went to PT and discovered how weak and painful my ankle really was. I couldn’t stand on my right leg. When the PT worked on my ankle, it was so, so painful. I went back to the surgeon, and expected to get another xray from him. Turns out that was not the case. I’ll spare the details, but he swept into the room, chastised me for having waited so long to get my ankle looked at, and said my only option was surgery.
I started to cry.
I said I was not making a decision that day. I called Chris, and asked him to see if his dad had a recommendation for another specialist to take a look at my ankle. 2 weeks later, I had another appointment, another x-ray, and a totally different opinion.
Yes - my ankle was broken. Yes- it was healing very slowly. No - he did not recommend surgery, that’s the option when ‘we’ve exhausted all other options’
He sent me back to PT - this is August at this point. From August through November, I went to PT every week. We started slow, and built over time. Things started improving pretty well, thanks to my amazing therapist.
I started attempting to run again - and built up enough to run the Turkey Trot in November.
Then, searing pain began in my lower back / glutes. I was back in PT for another 2 months. It was March by the time I was fully cleared out of PT. 14 months after my injury. 16 months from my last serious race.
I’ve been MIA for a while, but that’s only because I’ve literally just been sitting at home, desperate to be out on the road and trails.
I’m back now, and can’t wait to see where 2020 takes me (once we are allowed to race again - dang Coronavirus!)
