20 Miles, 10 Miles

The additional few days' rest while my finger healed was a boon to my knee too: last week's daily runs went well and I was able to complete 30 miles in two runs over the weekend!

On Saturday, I ran the complete loop of Trail Around Middlebury, 18 miles of woods, fields and town, then added two more miles of woods at the end. The sun was gorgeous and unusually warm for November in Vermont, but the thick carpet of leaves on the trail is unmistakably late fall. (The trail was hard to follow in some places for all the leaves!)

On Sunday, I ran closer to home through Salmon Hole, Intervale and Ethan Allen Park. The late afternoon light disappeared on the way home.

Nostalgia

The first race bib I ever pinned on was the 2007 inaugural Unplugged Half Marathon in Burlington. There's pride and opportunity for perfectionism in pinning on a race bib so that it's precisely even. Later, I learned to crumple up a fresh, stiff bib into a tiny ball so that the flattened, distressed rectangle hangs soft and quiet from your shirt. (This worked until timing chips were adhered to the backs of bibs.) Most recently, I was helped into the tribe of ultrarunning with advice to fold a bib into the smallest square possible to reveal just your number, no extra space.

I've saved every race bib I've ever run in, and when I had cause to open that box the other night I was surprised to remember races I'd forgotten, and to see bibs whose provenance I couldn't place. The medals are much easier: far fewer of them, designed to be identifiable, and most are pretty to look at and have a pleasant weight when you hold them in the palm of your hand.

Also this week, I donated a pair of shoes that were with me through my single best year yet of running. I trained for and ran two marathons and a few halfs in this pair of Asics, including a PR and a lot miles thinking about Antarctica. I ran in them far past their lifespan, and started to think of them disparagingly as overused and dead toward the end. But this morning when I tossed them in the donation bin, I had to take a moment of anthropomorphized appreciation for all miles I asked of them, and all the adventures they gave me.

"Just a flesh wound!"

There is a quote that I find reassuring in tough times:

And there isn't a better explanation for what happened Monday night when I was making a pie for my coworkers. I used an immersion blender to puree a roasted pumpkin and, for reasons beyond my own comprehension, I stuck my finger into the blender to scoop out the last bits of pumpkin from the blade. And while my left index finger was in the blender, I accidentally triggered the start button with my right hand.

Let me start with the good news

I didn't hit the bone, and I missed the tendons too. That is exceptional luck. Also, Monday night in Vermont is great time to go to the ER: I was literally the only patient there and had the focused attention of a PA and a nurse throughout the hours I spent there. Also, I live really close to the hospital so getting there only took minutes.

The ugly part

The single spinning blade ripped up my finger with one long, deep laceration and a dozen more jagged tears. I immediately realized what I did, covered it with clean gauze (which was weirdly, helpfully nearby) and got in the car - all within about 45 seconds.

 

(Trigger warning)

The first hour or two in the ER was a long process of assessing the damage and trying to staunch the volume of blood pulsating out of the wound. At one point, the PA removed a massive gauze pad to show another PA what it looked like and a huge arc of blood shot out from my finger. This was serious Monty Python territory.

They gave me several lidocaine shots to try to numb my finger. Ultimately, they had to drench gauze with a topical anesthetic and jam it into the open wound to numb the finger enough to attempt repairing it.

What does any of this have to do with running?

The moment this happened, my three simultaneous thoughts were, “I have to get to the ER,” and “Fucking pumpkin pie,” and “This better not affect running.”  At some point after earning my credentials as a compliant patient, I took the risk of being a freak and asked the PA and nurse if I would be able to run the next day. Then, when they were debating how to close the wound, I suggested again that perhaps the best method is the one that does not curtail running. (Having spent a few hours staring at the gaping wound, I could easily imagine the smallest exertion ripping it back open again.) And finally, when they were patiently explaining the discharge instructions, I kept asking things like, “When you say ‘don’t get it wet,’ does that include sweat?” And, “When you say , ‘keep it elevated above your heart,’ does that mean I need to run as if I’m in a constant ‘We’re #1 !!’ pose?” At this point, they were less impressed with my otherwise impeccable behavior as a patient.

Pretty much me, but with a lot of bandages and no trophy.

I tried running on the treadmill last night while watching Game 1 of the World Series. (Go Mets!)  The pain was throbbing and my gait with an elevated hand was awkward, leading to an unsatisfying walk-run. (Not to mention that game started very, very poorly for the Mets.)  Just when my knee is back on Team Patti, I feel like my running is getting sidelined by a finger injury. A finger!!

Prognosis

After trying the treadmill, I changed the hospital dressing for the first time, and got a good look at what I’m working with while this sucker heals. That was also pretty demoralizing. The stitches can come out in 10-14 days, and I’m hoping the wound calms down a lot before then. Right now it’s a red, swollen mess and I’m trying not to get too disappointed about the miles I’m not able to run.

But I still have six weeks till race day. Six weeks is a lot of time.

#notaper