I arrived in Roswell for the Senior Olympic State Meet on Wednesday, a day early so that I could watch Michelle Holland crush her competition in the 10k, coming in first female and third runner overall. It has been a blast training with her over the past three plus months. Next up for Michelle Nationals July 4th-12th in MN.
I had been nursing what I thought was a high hamstring pull. I honestly don’t know what it is, it still hurts. But I had a bunch of acupuncture, massage, chiro to get me to the starting line. We got up at 4:30 a.m. I dressed, ate, did my pre-race exercises and Tom drove up to the starting place. Michelle and I warmed up with three laps around the block, about 3/4 of a mile, then strides and various other pre-race prep. I got my before photo. I thought I was looking pretty good and very ready.
The race started out well, and I enjoyed the faster pace with 3,000 feet less of altitude. Roswell is at 3300. I stayed just behind the lead pack of one other woman and four men. I was lagging a bit behind them at the turn around, but no one was behind me for some at least 20-30 seconds. Then I hear a guy say 14:00, I look down at my watch and see the 2 mile line, then “POP” almost like the sound of a tire blow out, but inside my body. The snap reverberates though me and I screamed “fuck” unbelievably loud, then follow it with another 4 “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I have to admit I took a certain pleasure in my drunken sailor foul language. I rarely hear people swear out here and coursing is just part of the daily language in NYC. I knew immediately I broke my foot. I have done it twice before. The finish was one mile away, so I decide to cry, to sob and walk my way back. I thought crying might be kind of enjoyable, I was so stressed out from training, overtraining, over mental stress, that I just needed to let go. Everyone passed me, but I figured I would cross the finish and go to the ER. My other breaks I did not go to the doctor for a couple of days, they did not hurt nearly so much, and yes, both happened during a run and I walked home. About a 1/2 mile from the finish a walker not associated with our group, tried to cheer me on, “you can do it, you are almost there” “Yes, and I can still hobble over there and smash your face in” Stage two-anger. I was happy when I saw Michelle coming to scoop me me. I crossed the finished line and walked to the truck.
Tom drove us to the hospital. I thought I broke my fifth metatarsal until I took off my shoe. I told the ER I broke a foot bone, when I palpated it (they never touched my foot) and told the doc, “nope I broke the fourth, right here.” I could see he did not believe me. He said, “well it might be a hairline fracture or a pulled tendon, I will look at the x-ray which might not show it for a couple of weeks if it is small.” He comes back, you fractured it. HA! Told ya.
I am what is called a “beginner” at the Senior Olympics, the youngest of the folks there, and yes, I am the only one that broke a broke. I watched a 94 year old athlete complete the 1500, the 800 and the 400, while I watched from the sidelines. That seems like a cruel joke. There were senior discus throwers, high jumpers, shot putters, and pole vaulters and there I sat. Tom, Michelle’s husband did great in the 20k and 40k bike races, taking home bronze and gold medals. Michelle took home a gold the 10k and silver in 800. I took home a boot .and crutches Well, that is not entirely true, there were only two people in my 5k age category, so I would get a silver by default, but I did not want it.
All in all, I am really glad I went. Despite breaking my foot I had a great time. We went to the banquet on Saturday night and had a really good time. I think I laughed more in the last five days than I have laughed all year.
Here is a picture of the three of us at the banquet. Oh and I am won a free entry into next years at the banquet drawing!