It’s All In My Hips… Here I Go Again

So my new doc diagnosed me with illiotibial band syndrome in the right knee and snapping hip syndrome in the left hip. And he is not a runner. I’ve been going to his PTs for a while now. At first they just kept stretching me out, massaging my IT band, and telling me to foam roll. Ok. I’ve done this before. Where is the problem? Why am a tight? What is going wrong? Where is my imbalance? I thought you couldn’t stretch the IT band. It isn’t a muscle… I would have stopped going, but the massage was so nice and my deductible has been met… And what else could or would I do but go crazy?

Then during a recent session another PT overheard my issues and gave me some additional stretches to do. He said they were good for runners. Ok, why isn’t this guy my PT? No one working with me seems to  have a clue about running…  The next session he notices me running on the treadmill, stops over, and crouches down. He notices my right leg doing a funny wobble/rotation. He says I have weak hips and they aren’t supporting my upper leg muscles properly. Ok! Lets strengthen them! So now I am doing some strengthening with an exercise band. The crazy part is how much these moves are felt in my trouble spots. Two of the moves are basically opposites of each other and I feel one in my left hip/groin and one aggravates my right IT band insertion point. It feels like the answer. Here I go again…

All I Can Do

So I didn’t run TNF Endurance Challenge on September 19. And I didn’t write about it either. I didn’t think about it much. Or, I didn’t let myself think about it much. It was too hard. I can’t explain how hard. My eyes are welling up now that I am allowing myself to think through this. I probably could have an all out cry if I let myself. It has been supressed. I will dream about it soon. As usual. Running. I once had a dream I was running on a spongy pine needle forest trail for miles. I just kept running. Floating almost. That was my whole dream. And it was long. My legs just kept turning over, pulling me along, whizzing past rows of forest pines. I felt my feet hit the forest floor, I saw the brown pine-needled ground give under my feet, I smelled the decay and heard my breathing. It was wonderful.  

So I took a month off from the whole ordeal. No running, no yoga, no stretching, no doctor. No writing. I didn’t let it consume me. I hid it all. I didn’t wake up wishing I was at the race. I kept busy. I had to. I didn’t talk about it. I forgot about it. Mostly. I was actually able to. And that was weird. I knew I had to. That was just the way it was. Then I did what I knew I had to do next – find a new doctor and a new PT. I still didn’t run, I didn’t do a thing but schedule an appointment. One step at a time.