Yeah, I hear you laughing. It's not even a little bit funny. Patience is the one thing I lack. I'm a 'do it now' kind of woman.
It's not that I have absolutely no patience. After all I'm a marathon runner. Training takes time. Lots of time. You don't go from 0 to 26.2 in one day. It takes time... translate here to : patience.
Let me tell you a story. It's a sad story with a happy ending and a moral. You see, one day I was doing some cleaning up. My husband and I travel quite a bit and my housekeeping skills are, well, lacking. Plus my adult daughter had just moved back home. We had lived in our house for a little over 10 years and I never lived anywhere for that length of time. Deep cleaning was done twice in my lifetime - move in and move out. Needless to say, our home needed a thorough deep clean. After much discussion, my husband and I decided to hire a cleaning crew to do it for us. To be honest, I hate to clean but I love a clean house. Toilets are just gross. Of course, what do you do when strangers are due to arrive to clean your house? Clean of course. I called my son the morning before and asked him to come help move a very large and very heavy coffee table from the downstairs living room to an upstairs bedroom. He was due around 1:30. At about noon I decided to move said coffee table from the dining room to the staircase. A distance of about 15 feet. It was to save time of course.
Once the coffee table had been slid to the staircase, on a bath mat because it was heavy, I looked over at the other, smaller and lighter coffee table to decide which one I really wanted to haul up the stairs.
In a split second, the coffee table fell over and landed on my left foot. BAM! Impatience just broke my foot.
Seriously. It was bad. I screamed and cried. Not because I was in pain, which I was, but because I had a marathon to run in Montreal in 2.5 weeks!
To make a long story short. I was diagnosed with a small chip fracture. Boot, crutches, no running were prescribed. Many tears were shed.
I pulled up my big girl, impatient panties and decided I was going to heal fast. Two weeks fast. I kept the boot on and no weight bearing for as long as I could stand it. 6.5 days. Exactly. The boot was heavy and the crutches were dangerous. I nearly fell down the stairs twice, nearly fell getting in and out of the shower several times, and even with using two different types of crutches I was a danger to myself just standing up.
On day 6.5 I took off the boot, threw away the crutches (not literally, they are still in my closet), and stood up. Carefully. My heart pounded with fear. What if it hurt? What if I couldn't walk? What if I put a little weight on it and made it worse?
To alleviate my fears I requested a copy of my x-rays. Got the CD. Not films, a CD. It was blank. I wanted to scream. However, the official report was in the envelope and it read, ahem... "may be an avulsion..." MAY BE. I loved those words.
"I'm going to run!" I said to myself excitedly. "I'm going to run!"
I tried. Didn't work. Sure, I could walk, but there was pain in my arch. "You're calf is tight, roll it," came advice from strangers. I rolled it. Still hurt. Felt better, but still some discomfort. I stretched, rolled, wiggled and moved my foot as much as possible. Hit the floor and did every floor exercise that didn't require weight on my foot that I could find. (My abs are rock hard!).
Monday before I was to leave for Montreal I tried to run. First, I walked for three miles. Then I took a few running steps. My gait was short and there was pain. Walked another mile. Didn't feel good. Took a break and stretched my foot. Walked some more. Tried to run again. No go. Stride was like a little tiny trot and it hurt. I cried the rest of the day. That was that. No running in Montreal.
My husband, saint that he is, decided to go to Montreal with me to make sure I didn't run. That, in and of itself made the whole ordeal worth it. I got my husband all to myself for five glorious days. The weather was cool and sunny except for Friday morning. We went sight-seeing, walked the underground city, went shopping, ate - a lot. And, for the first time ever I got to see the winners of not one but four races - 5k, 10k, half marathon and full marathon. Plus, I took some awesome photos of the city and recalled a little high school French.
Today, I saw the orthopedist. He said my x-rays were fine, normal. However, the foot still needed a little more time. That's okay, I have a little time. A little, 37 days to be exact. I'll be able to participate in the New York marathon if I can just be...oh...what's that horrid word ......
PATIENT.
Right. Patient. One day at a time. God's time, not mine. I'm slowly realizing I'm not 18 anymore. I'm 51. I physically cannot do some things I used to do at 18, 30, and even 40. However, I couldn't run a marathon at 18 and I've already done 7 starting at the age of 40-something. I'll ask for help now and then and not try to do it all, all by myself, right now.
Patience is a virtue. Maybe I'll have that virtue, one day, maybe. I'm getting there. For now, I need to memorize and live these verses:
Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly. Proverbs 14:29 (moving a 75-pound table displays folly)
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Romans 12:12 (Affliction demands patience, demands prayer.)
Pray for me while I'm attempting to be patient. I need it. If you need me to pray for you to have patience I certainly will. Attached is a video of some of my many photos. Enjoy.
