So,
what happened on Friday of Week 3 that has potentially killed me for the rest
of the RDWC challenge?
After a week of taping my ankle to help
with support, I’d had the tape off for about 2 days, giving it a chance to
prove itself before derby on Sunday. My quadriceps were still pretty sore from
the previous weekend, but I was still stubbornly believing that there was
nothing to worry about, and that I’d be fine by Sunday. Then, on the way to
watch the football with some friends at the pub, my ankle gave out. I landed
heavily on my knee (thankfully not the dodgy one!), and all of my weight went
back. Those crazy tight quads screamed, and so did I.
It took me almost 10 minutes to limp the
30m from where I fell to the pub. A skinned knee dripping blood down my leg was
the least of my worries. My right leg couldn’t bear weight without feeling like
I’d been stabbed in the thigh. I was
fairly convinced I had ripped the muscle from the bone. I spent 2 hours sitting
on one bar-stool, my leg supported on another, with ice wrapped around my quad,
before I felt like I could put any weight back on it. Thankfully, my favourite
team was playing their pre-season game, so in between growling, yelping and
crying, I got to see them play. After hobbling to the car, and then from car to
boyfriend’s couch, I spent the rest of the night with ice on and off. The pain
localized, and seemed to be focused on my vastus intermedius, the middle
section of the quadriceps, the type of pain suggesting partial tear, rather
than full snap. Despite being good friend’s with my physio, and knowing he was
open the next morning, I decided to wait it out until my appointment Monday
afternoon. I knew the drill: RICE. Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate. Saturday,
could weight-bear for short distances, but rested up as much as possible.
Sunday, the first day of RDWC’s Week 4, I decided to test myself.
Derby.
I couldn’t strap anything but my ankle,
thanks to the amount of sweat that appears on a 38C day. I got 3 laps of the
track at a teeth-clenching jog before having to pull out in pure agony. No luck
with squats, even less with lunges. 50 wall push-ups and about the same of crutches
later, and the uninjured Fresh Meat had finished their warm-up. Threw on the
skates, made it halfway around the track before having to rip everything off. I
was in tears, and not just because of the pain.
The following three hours were seriously
depressing. I watched as my fellow Fresh Meat worked on their falls and slides,
learnt the fine art of the slalom, and practiced their hops. I didn’t want to
be sitting on the side-lines, I wanted to be out there, falling on my arse,
laughing, learning. Instead, I watched, and I listened, and I tried to remember
everything that was said, in the vain hope I’d be back the next week. Once the
Fresh Meat had finished, I was the only one to stay behind for the level 2 and
up training, like I do every week, even getting the opportunity to act as
penalty timer for scrimmage. It was great, I learnt a lot, and our Fresh Meat
coaches were fantastic, encouraging me to come along next week even if I was
off skates, and telling me they’d run me through a one-on-one catch-up session
when I was back on my wheels. That made me feel better (Thanks Ace and Fink!), but I still couldn’t
shake the sinking feeling that in the space of one week, I had blown a year of physio and hard work. Home to more ice and an early night.
Today,
I saw my physiotherapist.
“A Grade Strain”. After 15 minutes of
explaining what happened, how it felt at the time of the injury and since,
discussing my suspicions, and having a bit of a poke around (Ok, actually more
technical than that, but you don’t want details of my screaming and crying),
those three words were a sweet relief. A strain I can handle, as long as the
muscle is intact. An intact muscle doesn’t need surgery, it just needs some
gentle love and attention until it is healed.
The verdict? Minimum two weeks recovery. I
have set exercises I have to do 3 or 4 times a day, and am restricted to
walking, with a reassessment in one week. In the words of my physio “No
running, no jumping, no hopping or skipping or lunges, and for gods sake, no
skates!” Any core work involving my legs is out, so no planks, wall sits or
push-ups (unless they’re one legged, against an upright surface, on my good
leg). It’s boring, and it’s horrible, and I’m annoyed, but you know what? I’ll
do it. I’ll take the weeks off skates until I’m approved again. I’ll research a
million-and-one ways to work my core, back and upper body without engaging my
quads. Because I want it. Because derby is worth fighting for. And because I’ll
be damned if I’m letting my body get the better of me again.
Neysa xo
Hi,
ReplyDeleteAs someone who has just started her Derby journey I was really looking forward to seeing how you went, when boom, it all seems to be over.
Which sucks.
A lot.
Have you managed to get back into it or have your saving the world Cancer research filled in the time? (Which is AWESOME btw)
Would love to have an update on derby or even just your poor ankle.
Derby Love,
Malice
Hi Malice, thanks for the comment! I've sadly let myself fall behind in my blogging, as life offline got more and more demanding. Whilst research does take up the lion's share of my time, I am still involved in roller derby, though now as a ref, rather than a bouting skater. I have been meaning to throw together a post about my derby shenannigans for a while now, and you've just given me the boot up the butt to do it :D
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