How to ruin a runner's day

I have never broken a bone.

Until today.

An ER doctor just told me that I had fractured my toe. I thought she was kidding.

I fractured my "ring" toe, the second one from the top. Wah.

Chicago yesterday had its worst blizzard in five years. I was pretty determined to run no matter what, so I ran on the lakefront with friends as snow pelted our faces sideways. 

It was tough, but we laughed through it and mocked New Yorkers for freaking about about their supposed blizzard the week prior. 

Mother Nature, we thumb our noses at you!

During my run my work phone rang four times (I'm in government PR and I was on call for the week). I even did a live radio interview from my car, hopped out of the car and continued on for a bit longer. My running buddies were like, we are done. I felt great when we got done. I felt pretty, pretty good about my juggling ability. Storm be damned!

Last night was the Super Bowl. I saw very little of it, juggling work/blizzard stuff and nursing my pissed-off back, which I seem  to have wrenched days ago. 

This morning I was again up early to do more interviews (phoners with TV stations, while sipping coffee in my PJs!) while my husband hit the gym and I iced my back some more. When he came home, I blissfully was able to slip over to the gym track for a quick three miles.

My back ached but my legs felt good. As always, it was nice to run, physically and mentally. Even on a track that is 12 laps to a mile.

My husband went to work and I ran around cleaning up, answering work email, etc until our babysitter could get to our house. 

C-girl was running a fever for a second morning and clingy, while M-man happily played with his Kindle.

As I apparently walked at what must have been a speed-walking pace from my kitchen to the dining room, my left foot slammed into a piece of baseboard that juts out in the doorway that separates the two rooms.

I went down to the floor in pain, and surprised myself by crying really hard. It hurt so much.

Of course, as a runner, I was immediately think oh crap, ice ice ice!

My kids couldn't resist the chaos. C-girl, the lover that she always is, kept patting my ice pack and saying things like "mommy, you're going to be all better" and "it's OK, mommy". 

My ever-curious M-man was full of questions. Mommy, what happened? Why are you crying? Because it hurts? Is it broken? (He loved the photo of my X-ray when I got home from the ER and immediately asked if he could take it to school. Of course, buddy!)

The kids' sitter arrived and I hit the ER, which wasluckily only a couple of hobbly, super snowy blocks from my house. When we bought our house a dozen years ago, I remember thinking we'd be glad to be close to a hospital.

I got the news. 

I cried. Right there in front of the ER doc. 

Kind of mortifying, considering she sees people with REAL problems.

But she was super nice anyway as I sniffled I was sorry to be just crying about running, and that it wasn't like she just told me I had cancer or something.

I now have a flat, open-toe boot I can wear. Unfortunately with a 3/4-mile walk to my L stop and 18 inches of snow on the ground, this will be a challenge. 

I'm far more distressed about not being able to run for at least six weeks. 

SIX WEEKS??? Are you kidding me?

So, as I contemplated the furniture saving parking spots on the street in front of my house, I called and left a message for a sports podiatrist to get this party started.

And I'll try swimming tomorrow if I can find some goggles in our house. I bet I haven't swam  in easily five years.

A girl's gotta try, right?