Once upon a time, when I was a senior in college, I was running a 5k at the New York City Armory. Yes, it was an indoor track meet and yes I don’t like indoor track but the armory is a really cool place. I was in a weird place with training since I had mono during the xc season and into December. Since I reference having mono so often I will throwback to that one day, but not today. Having mono meant that I wasn’t really in ‘race’ shape. Despite not being in race shape I really thought that I was going to run under 19 minutes in the 5k at this particular track meet. I was on pace for the first mile, actually a bit faster than on pace. I felt fantastic but I probably wouldn’t have held sub 6 minute pace since I had never ran that fast for a whole 5k at that point in my life. I was being optimistic and trying to make a bold return to running after a horrible xc season and a miserable amount of time off from running. I probably wouldn’t have ran the time that I wanted to, I probably would have been mad, and I probably would have cried and been sad about it. Before any of that could happen fate stepped in and knocked me down, literally. After 9 laps (just over a mile or 1800 meters) I feel down face first onto the track. I can’t remember how I tripped because it happened so quickly. I tried to get up and I got leaped over, stepped on, and spiked in my left achilles. Then blood started gushing. I wanted to get up but I couldn’t because a trainer came over and pulled me off the track. Results for this race read DNF! I have only received a DNF 3 times in my entire life and all 3 times something horrible had to happen in order for me to stop the race–2 of those times were at the armory. I wasn’t pleased. The trainer couldn’t stop the bleeding and she had to change the bandage multiple times that night. Oh, I ran a relay after this happened. This was my coach’s idea, not mine. I don’t even remember what the relay was. It could have been a 4×800 or a DMR. This memory is foggy because I was in a lot of pain, bleeding profusely, and really tired. I did my best and felt pretty incredible after doing this because I felt like I was seeking revenge on the track. I got home after midnight and woke my mother up to show her the spike wound. She said I probably needed stitches. I went to bed because I had an 8 am geometry class the next morning that I was struggling to get a C in even though the semester just began. It was geometry for the non-math major and I had to take another math class to graduate so this seemed to be the easiest option– math is not and never will be my strong point. My ankle swelled and started to look slightly infected so I went to see a doctor, who also told me I should have gotten stitches, and I got an antibiotic and a tetanus shot. That was not fun but it was probably necessary. The one good thing is that tetanus shots last for 10 years and I shouldn’t need one until 2019! I had a hole in my achilles until the end of March and I now have a really cool scar that I like to show people. It makes me look tough.
One thought on “Throwback Thursday–The time I got spiked in the achilles”
It’s funny because I actually got a really bad scar in my Achilles from my first collegiate race where I got spiked.
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