Plantar fasciitis

I was plagued with running injuries my entire high school career. First it was Illiotibial band tendinitis in the left knee, then the right knee. Then came the stress fracture. Then the sprained ankle. I never had a chance to get in any sort of a rhythm, never had a chance to see any improvement.

Needless to say I was ecstatic when my career took off with the help of my coach, Michael Harlow. He knew what he was doing and as long as I listened to him, I remained injury free.

The beginning of this season however, I took a risk. While last year at Virginia Tech I had no excuse for loosing so much fitness in the off season, this off-season I was committed to something entirely different from triathlon training. Hiking was physical, that is true. But I managed to loose nearly all of my triathlon fitness. So when I returned home in January, ready to return to the life I had always known, getting back in shape became my priority.

So I came back to triathlon training at an intensity level like I had never left. My logic was simple, hiking was intense, stressful on almost every part of my body, so maybe my body could handle it. It held up against the track workouts, the three hour cycling rides and the miles of swimming each week. Of course there were the tweaks and small pains that scared me every now and then. Pulled lat, strained deltoid, tight hamstring.

But when my racing brought me back to the trails that at one time gave me the confidence to be headstrong so early in the season, the real injury came about.

With the off road duathlon this past weekend I ran over nine miles on the hilly, rocky, and slick trails surrounding Richmond. And probably not one of my better decisions, I ran the entire race in flimsy racing flats.

On Sunday morning I stepped out of bed in sheer agony. Besides the rather extreme soreness resulting from my poor recovery practices from the day before, my left foot was really killing me. After the first few footsteps away from my bed, I realized something was severely wrong.

So, Patient First gave me no diagnosis, a tacky blue Velcro boot, some crutches, and a note excusing me from work.

The next day however, Dr. Moose Herring told me what I feared, plantar fasciitis. However, with the rapid onset of the injury, the prognosis was not bleak. “Don’t run till Friday.” I’ll take that over the typical report that comes with plantar fasciitis.

I think I’ll be keeping to the roads for a while though.

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