|Every neighborhood has its shrine.|
By March, I was progressing well enough to hold down a 20-mile run—until I broke my left wrist in an airborne fall on a trail that ended with a loud SNAP. Thanks to Rainer and Dave, who splinted me, then drove my whiteout self to Huntington Memorial ER, where it got cast up. And to Catherine Schulz who was my advocate in the ER, who could talk doctor-talk with the ER MDs. Few are this lucky. Would've been nice if I could've washed that arm before it went into the cast, but it didn't go all rank on me.
|In the Huntington General ER, an hour after I fractured my wrist. |
I'm being clown-slapped to keep my mind off the break. The drugs came later.
Fast forward to Jan 2015. Its been less than nine months since I seriously began to re-train for ultras. Everything has changed. But it beats sitting at home digging loose change out from my sofa.
|Alison survived cancer, a double mastectomy, and a bruising run-in |
with the US medical-insurance complex. I just fractured my wrist.