Colleen Smith, NCC

When I started scouring the internet for blogs from runner who had this I didn’t find much. It led me to start writing to document the journey. This is part 1.

Four weeks ago I went out for what I thought we be an amazing long run in fresh falling snow.

I was so happy. I had been through Emdr training the weekend before and stuck inside on the treadmill. I was really looking forward to some outside running at my favorite local trail spot Mines Falls. But then….

All of a sudden I was signing praise and worship and the next minute I was flying in the air and landed with a crack. I laid down in the snow and I paused. I knew right then and there my bone broke and my biggest fear in running had happened. My ankle broke.

I laid in the snow for a minute catching my breath and grouping my thoughts. I was so sad and mad all at once. Part of me wanted to just lay there in that snow and avoid getting up, I knew getting up meant I had to face my reality. I got up, and I snapped that pic and felt excruciating pain as I hobbled back to my van.

I saw my friend Caite waiting at her car she had no idea what happened. I told her and her face sunk. She knew what this meant for me. She followed me home (luckily it was the left ankle so I could somehow drive) so I could get the van back and watched the kids so the husband could take me to urgent care.

I waited to get X-rays and then heard the urgent care physician confirm what I already had known: broken.

I was numb. I think it took 24 hours to set in, that my June goal race of 100 miles was shattered, and simply just trying to be a mother to my 6 young children was now going to be difficult. I went through stages of grief, I was mad at myself for going out to run. I was sad that my mental health was suffering because running is so much of a coping mechanism for me. I was mad because I was in a lot of pain and unable to do much about it. Most of all I was angry for losing my independence. I couldn’t even get in and out of my van with the boot on and I felt trapped.

They sent me to a podiatrist and he told me I was fine. I was kind of shocked but glad to hear no surgery. Everything I had researched and been told suggested I would need surgery. The next day the podiatrist office called and basically said they misread the X-ray report and I had to immediately see a surgeon. I was nervous and relieved. We saw the surgeons assistant and she said it was 50/50. What did that even mean???? I was so tired of the uncertainty!

A week later the surgeons assistant called and said they wanted to operate on me tomorrow. At this point it felt like a never ending rollercoaster. So 2 weeks after I fell I headed into surgery.

I woke up in excruciating pain. Nothing could have prepared me for that pain. I was devastated! I felt like immediate regret at agreeing to the surgery. But I knew I had needed the surgery. The surgeon had showed us the X-rays from multiple angles and explained that the break was a Weber B fracture and the bone was completely shifted and the only way to ensure proper alignment and healing was to screw it together and use a plate to stabilize it.

I FaceTimed the husband who due to covid was in his car in the parking lot. I needed out of there. I felt awful upon waking up and just wanted to be home in my bed. I went home with a prescription for pain medication and a follow up appointment for 2 weeks. They had my ankle ace wrapped and I couldn’t let it get wet or unwrap it for the next 2 weeks. I was just thankful I avoided a hard cast and could continue in a boot.