Or maybe I'm not okay...

My foot is no better.  

I had a meltdown about this on Thursday.  It was probably along the lines of how I might react if someone told me I had an incurable and deadly disease.  In reality, of course, it was nothing more than my foot hurting and not being sure I could run.  But if I couldn't run, then I might not be able to do the marathon in six weeks.  And if I couldn't do the marathon, then I wouldn't get to write the cover story for January's issue of the Memphis Runners Track Club magazine ("Becky's First Marathon!").  And if I couldn't do any of these things, then (possibly worst of all) I would be incredibly lonely during the healing process because, like a blow to the head, it hit me just how dependent I've become on running as a social outlet.  I live alone, I work in an office where it's just me and my boss...during the week, sometimes (many times) the only people I have real, face-to-face conversations with are other runners. 

Poor MEEEEEE, my life is oooooovvverrrrrr!

I went to Thursday night's run anyway because my doctor told me to try to run again on Thursday and even though I was depressed and knew it was going to hurt and that I'd have to stop, I wanted to try.  And then I tried and it hurt and I had to stop. 

So cue the waterworks (really, for the number of times I've cried throughout this shitty week, it's amazing my eyes still opened on Thursday) and everything is awful and I hate life and I was just starting to catch up but now everyone's going to leave me behind and I'll be sad and alone for the REST OF MY LIFE.  This is literally what was happening in the middle of Breakaway, along with my vocal and teary admission that I knew I was being irrational and that I had possibly become a little dependent on running as a means of leveling my mood and thus had been left somewhat unstable after five days of inactivity.

The universal response was:  "Becky, we understand exactly how you feel."

And then of course there was alcohol consumption.

I really can't stress enough how much comfort Breakaway gave me on Thursday.

Yesterday morning, a fellow runner got me in to see an orthopedic doctor.  He thought it was possibly tendonitis, possibly just a generic body-protesting reaction to running 18 miles last weekend, but most likely not a stress fracture and most likely nothing that would keep me from running the marathon.

Another friend got me in to see a physical therapist yesterday afternoon.  He thought it could be a stress fracture, but it could be a lot of other things too, including the bones in my foot getting slightly out of line after all that pounding, and that at any rate, it was far too early to count me out on the marathon.

As of this weekend, I'm on a steroid, I'm supposed to stay off my feet as much as possible, and then I'm to run again on Wednesday, at which point I have permission to keep running through the pain and try to make it four or five miles to really figure out how it feels.

All I know is that it hurts.  Quite a bit.  So...I'll guess I'll just have to wait and see... :-/