MFP Fitspiration!

I posted this earlier today, but someone suggested that I add it to this thread, so here goes!!


We all have sob stories, and yes, it's okay to cry. But it's also okay to pick yourself back up again.

In June 2012 I had a long anticipated surgery for bilateral exertional compartment syndrome. A week in a wheelchair, a long month before I could start running or lifting again, a mild set-back because of an infection in one of my scars, and I was on my way. Not too bad right? Thankfully I'm a Certified Athletic Trainer (ATC) so I could do my own rehab and monitor my own progression. Nothing better than an ortho saying "you know what to do, take care of yourself". I went from barely being able to walk up a hill (pain, burning, the whole 9 yards) to running 5-6 miles without problems. Aside from being tired of course! Not too bad of a sob story right?

Well - fast forward to August 2013. Remember when I thought there was nothing better than my ortho saying to take care of myself? Well, I was wrong. There's nothing better than being able to call your ortho on a Sunday afternoon right after his family vacation and having him meet you at the hospital to do an emergency surgery. Why? Because on August 10th, 2013 I was bitten by a copperhead. Like the good medical professional that I am, I went to the ER right away. Seems like poisonous snake bites isn't something to ignore. Right? Well, after spending about 14 hours in that hospital, getting told that there was no way I could have been bitten by a snake, and given nothing except improperly administered medication - my left leg was swollen from my toes to a bit above my knee, I couldn't move my ankle/foot, had searing pain when anything touched my leg (couldn't even have a sheet covering it), was nauseated/vomiting my guts out, and felt as though I was being stabbed, and that what was stabbing me had an electric shock on the end. One phone call later, to someone I consider not only one of the best orthopedic surgeons ever, but also a friend, I was on my way for the first of two (but had the potential to be four) surgeries that ended up saving my foot as well as any hope I ever had of running and having a normal life.

So, here I am, not even six months after the scariest weekend of my life. And this morning as I struggled to get through my run, I want to stop and remember how lucky I am. As easy as it is for me to get angry with myself for where I am at now, in comparison to where I was...I remember the relief I felt as my boyfriend (and most amazing man in the world) held my had as I was rolled into the operating room...I remember him telling me how proud he was of me for being strong, both in the hospital and after my first run...I remember seeing my mom's face after she drove about 15 hours across the country to take care of me...I remember how grateful I was to have such a wonderful surgeon who has helped better my life as well as saving all the things I've taken for granted...and I remember my determination to walk out of the woods after being bitten (about 15 minutes, through a stream and up a wooded ravine...

I was determined not to give up then, and I'm determined not to give up now. We all have our sob stories. And it's okay to cry. But don't let those sob stories define you. Because it's okay to get back up.