It’s Friday, and it should be a happy day, but I’m having a minor freak out.
This morning, I went back to physical therapy because my back has been bothering me some. Not a ton, just an ache or pain here or there, and occasionally a sharp, stabbing pain during my long runs. But it usually doesn’t last too long, and I can stretch through any uncomfortable-ness and manage it. Still, I wanted to get it adjusted again to see if that would help.
My PT–who is really great–told me I need to see an orthopedist before she works with me again. The reason? Since my back isn’t staying better, she’s concerned something else is going on. Something else like a stress fracture. In my BACK. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure having anything broken in your back is basically awful. And not conducive to running a marathon. I know I’ve felt kind of lackluster about running lately, but the thought that all of this training might be for nothing makes me physically ill. On the flip side, the idea that continuing running might cause permanent damage or that I might not be able to run again is equally upsetting.
I’m sure I’m getting ahead of myself–the doctor might say everything is fine and just send me back to PT. But I tend to panic and consider the worst case scenario. Really, kids. I wouldn’t be me otherwise. I’m sure I just need to take some Advil and not freak out until I know for sure, so I’ll keep the freaking out slightly lower key.
Now, I will attempt to go about my day and pretend not to be the diaster I actually am.