What to do with a broken toe

What to do with a broken toe!

It’s week 11 of training.

But it’s has been ‘one of those weeks’. It all started with an unexpected head cold. A running nose. A pounding head. A barking cough. Throat on fire. The works. 

Then the hubby went off to China for a week, which meant I had to keep the home fires burning on my own. (We have a very labour-intensive fire that requires much hauling of wood -)  I also had lots of extra tutoring to do, which meant long hours at the workplace. 

It was all getting bit knackering.

Then. . . To top it all off. . . 

I think I broke my toe.

I know!

Careless!

Stupid! 

Unlucky!

It was one of those ridiculous accidents involving a bare right foot, a chair leg and a very innocent little ‘clip’. I didn’t think much of it at the time. A slight shriek, some mad hopping, a few swear words, and that was it. Because it was 8:30 on a Saturday morning and I had a two hour run to complete. There was no time for fuss.

This run was hard enough. The wind was strong and the air was cold. I did not need a dodgy toe to complicate matters. So I ignored it. I completed the run (with much huffing and puffing and minor discomfort in the foot department) as best I could. It was only later, as post running weariness set in, and I kicked off my shoes to have a wee lie down, that I noticed it. 

The thing that was my right ‘ring finger’ toe. 

It was all swollen up. Black and blue, tender to touch. Crikey! It looked like an overcooked sausage. 

Panicky thoughts overwhelmed me. 

There were only five weeks til race day. 

I did not need a broken toe.

I could not be doing with a broken toe!!!

If I had one, it needed fixed.

Right away!

But first I needed to confirm my symptoms. Heading straight to Dr Google I looked up ‘How to tell if your toe is broken’. 

Google seemed very clear on this. ‘Swelling, bruising, tenderness,’ it declared. ‘Hard to straighten. Sore to walk on. ‘ 

Suspicion confirmed, I set about looking for the cure.  ‘How to run with a broken toe,’ was next on my Googling agenda.

Amazingly, there was a lot of information about broken toes online. The posts that appeared were a mixed bag. Most mentioned the dreaded six week recovery period. Most advised keeping activity to a minimum. And getting an X ray. All of which I didn’t really have time for.

I decided to look up some tips for riding it out. It was only the one toe, after all. How hard could it be to fix?!

I concentrated on ‘quick fire fixes’. Buddy taping seemed the most popular option. Along with icing. I set to work with a bag of frozen mixed vegetables I found rolling about in the freezer. On for 20 mins. Off for 5 mins. 

This had to work. But how long would it take?! 

I start taking photos of the offending toe in the hope of seeing some immediate improvement. My aim was to have the break healed by midnight. 

Ha! Laughed my non-running friend, with medical experience. ‘Fat chance of that.’

My panic rose. I was becoming a bit ridiclous but I couldn’t help myself. I was becoming ever so slightly obsessed! 

Most online advice required at least two weeks of inactivity.

But I didn’t have two weeks to spare. . . I was following a schedule.

If I took two weeks off training I would never make the distance.

What to do?

Time to think outside the square.

I couldn’t let one little rebel purple toe put me off track.

I couldn’t allow one silly toe ruin my dream. 

I imagined myself retelling the tale.

‘Oh, yes’, I would tell my grand children. ‘I nearly ran a marathon once. But my little toe got in the way.’

And. . . the violins would start and I would be feeling really sorry for myself.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“If it’s not your big toe, you can probably push through it,” one online person commented. That was all the encouragement I needed. 

I decided to press on with the project. Yes! I could ‘probably push through it’. Of course I could.

This was not my big toe, after all. It was just a small insignificant toe. Who even needed it.

There were things I could do. Remedies I could try.

I would keep icing with the frozen vegetables. I would take an anti inflammatory pill for swelling. I would buddy-tape it to the next toe. I would get some very firm shoes or some very thick socks. Maybe one of those finger puppet thingys will do the trick. I could try injecting the thing with numbing fluid.

Yes, I could do this!

Yes, I could stay in the race.

Come rain, hail, snow. . . . or broken toe.

I would be committed to doing every unsensible thing I could.

My non-running friend contined to think I was bonkers.

“Why not do it next year,” she said.

“But next year is ages away,” I said.

“But you’ve got a broken toe,” she said.

“But next year I might break something else,” I said, despondently taking off my sock.

“Actually”, she said, peering down at the offending toe. “I think it might be looking better.” 

“Do you really,” I shrieked.

She nodded. “Definitely!”

Suddenly I felt all hopeful again

“Who knows. It might be just a sprain, after all,” she said.