Tuesday, 24 April 2012

What a pain in the ... bursa?

In recent weeks I have come to regard my 10k race as achievable, it is still extremely daunting, but I have acknowledged that I will be able to accomplish this.  A week or so ago I was able to fulfil my training requirements, exceed my own expectations, push through some plateaus and then bring my triumph to a screeching halt.  After two rest days it began to dawn on me that the pain I had been feeling was not, in fact, “the burn” that I attribute to exercising.  Instead, it is the pain of a premature geriatric.  You have all seen it, the hip swagger that is more of a stagger, the tentative shuffle, and … the waddle.  I injured my hip, and as a result, I no longer have the graceful run of a gazelle; I am full-on penguin.  It appears as though I have a case of bursitis, so I have been icing, stretching, and pill popping for over a week.  I can put in a valiant effort on a decent walk and I can suffer through some yoga, but I cannot run.  Yesterday I plunged into the pool for a long-overdue swim with the vain hope that it would help to calm things down, but, alas, it was not to be.  My 3.3k walk home probably did not help, and I am now wondering if the 60 flights of stairs I heaved myself up today were a bad idea.  So, as I write this I am covered in ice with pain pulsing from areas I did not know existed.  I believe this is where I make my bi-monthly emergency phone call to both my chiropractor and my massage therapist.  Every time I see my massage therapist she says “what did you do this time” and then “how did you manage to do that”.  I really have no idea.  She says I am overzealous, I say that I am trying not to wimp out; her recommendation is to strive to be about a notch below wimp so I can save myself some money.  Whenever I take up a new activity some sort of injury follows:
  • pole dancing = lower back issues and bruised rib;
  • running = shin splints and bursitis,
  • ballroom dancing = stuck neck;
  • yoga = muscle spasms;
  • strawberry picking = muscle spasms in low back; and
  • skiing = rotator cuff. 
Following all of these injuries my husband comes up with a new term of endearment for my injured body part, all of which appear to come from the menu at McDonald’s and/or KFC:  McRib, Chicken Wing (rotator cuff), Hoof (foot), and Drumstick (hip).  In conclusion, if you notice a lack of running-related commentary, it means I really did it this time; I finally injured my Biggie Fry. 


  1. I had traumatic bursitis in my hip from our car accident and ouch! It's painful. I ended up getting cortisone shots to finally block the pain so hopefully you don't need to go that far!

  2. Oh my goodness, that is awful! I agree, I really hope it does not come to that, I doubt it will.. And I thought having to ice all the time was bad!