I didn't even know I had a cuboid. I don't remember it from anatomy lessons and the bones song doesn't mention it. You know the song. "The toe bone is connected to the foot bone, the foot bone is connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone is connected to the leg bone." In case you don't remember the song, here is Mr. Mike to sing it for you.
Mr. Mike and the Bones song
It turns out that the song leaves a lot of bones out of our skeletal structure. I guess "The fifth metatarsal is connected to the cuboid" doesn't have the same lyrical qualities. Here's the diagram:
Anyway, the day after Hellgate I had sharp pain on the side and bottom of my foot opposite from my arch. It continued to get worse, to the point where I could not put much weight on it. Apparently it was not going to get better on its own, so I allowed Dr. Google to diagnose my problem and cuboid subluxation is what he came up with. In other words, that little bone was not where it was supposed to be. Dr. Google advised that it could be fixed with manipulation of the bone but he cautioned, "This form of manual manipulation of the foot should be done by a trained specialist." So I turned to Tony, who watched a couple of YouTube videos and set forth manipulating and mobilizing. It immediately felt a bit better, despite me not allowing him to do the "Cuboid Whip", which although supposedly effective, was way beyond my comfort zone.
I began icing it and self-mobilizing it. I also started using KT tape on it to support it. (One strip, starting on the heel, wrapping it under the cuboid from the side and a second strip, starting from the opposite side of my foot in front of my arch, wrapping it under my foot and cuboid.) As a result, two weeks later, I have run for three consecutive days, not pain free, but improving with each run.
So, how does one injure a cuboid to begin with? At Hellgate, I was intending to change shoes, but didn't, and ended up wearing shoes that were tied way too tight and I don't think my foot was able to move the way it should have on technical surfaces. I also remember rolling my ankle over (which is not uncommon), but this time the side of the foot hit a rock pretty hard.
The question then is, did the injury contribute to my DNF at Hellgate? Unfortunately, I don't think so. I say unfortunately because having an injury as an excuse for a DNF makes one feel a bit better. Instead, the injury gave me two weeks of down time to contemplate my DNF, rather than being able to head back out to the trails with vengeance.
This was not my first DNF. I DNF'ed at Hellgate before because of the ice. I DNF'ed at Old Dominion because of a hamstring injury. I DNF'ed another time at Old Dominion because I simply did not want to be out there any more. This was my first DNF caused by just being too slow and the mental beating I took when I realized that early on in the race. Before I started the race, I had already sabotaged myself by thinking I might DNF because of my lack of training. But I imagined that it would come late in the race, when I was just too tired to run, not because I was just too slow. Hmmm. Regardless of the reason, all the DNFs suck because I know that somehow I could have done better.
The disappointment in myself is balanced out by how much I enjoyed the race, which says something about the difference between racing and running. There haven't been too many times when I have enjoyed a course that I am really trying to race. I do, however, enjoy all my runs.
As the new year approaches, I have simple goals. I want to get fitter and faster and see how far I can go in a 48 hour race. If I don't get into the cycle of racing and recovering without a whole lot of time for training, I should be able to do that. And if I can keep my cuboids where they belong, connected to the calcaneus and the metatarsals.