I believe that everything happens for a reason. Life is not random or meaningless. It is complex, exhilarating, challenging. The moment you are sure you have it all figured out, you have it all together, everything is turned on its head.
On September 10th, I felt a dull, but distinct and unfortunately familiar, pain in my left 2nd-4th metatarsal area. The moment I felt it, I recognized it and named it in my head. The words stress fracture loomed in my brain and destroyed the rest of our day. I was on edge, crabby, frustrated beyond belief and disappointed. I had spent the past 4 months (and 14 years!) preparing for my first marathon. I was set to run Chicago in just one month. I had been so careful and methodical with my training and all was going just as planned. Days before I had finished a 20 mile hilly trail run in less than 3 hours and it felt EASY! I was ready, finally. I was ready to run a fast time in Chicago, hopefully qualify for Boston and have a blast doing it. I had visualized how it would feel to cross that finish line. The pain, the agony, the waiting, finally about to be over. I was ready, SO ready. And now.. this.
I spent most of the day September 10th wallowing in my own self-pity. Then came sleep and the next day. September 11th. Well, it's hard to feel bad for yourself or sit around and moan on a day such as September 11th. The history, the tragic moments that changed our nation, that changed each and every one of us on that day, the reminder of what we suffered, of the thousands upon thousands whom were affected and who lost their lives. As I woke up that morning and stepped out of bed, I felt the pain in my left foot. But as I walked downstairs, clicked on my phone and saw the date 9/11 displayed atop the screen, my pain dissipated. Suddenly, my little foot pain didn't feel so monumental.
Sometimes all we need is a little perspective. Yes, I am heart-broken. Yes, I am devastated. Yes, I am frustrated. No, I do not know when I will be able to train again. I do not know when I will attempt to run a marathon again because in my heart I don't know whether my body can handle it. That is the most challenging part of this all: facing the fact that maybe my body can not run a marathon. Running has and always will be my biggest passion. I can not simply give it up. Sometimes, I pray that I could find some replacement. I tried cycling, tried mountain biking, every method of yoga, pilates. My heart and my soul yearn to be a marathoner. Heck, I yearn to be an ultra-marathoner, with every ounce of my being. But I also have a brain attached to my body and the nerve endings are sending messages that my body is not yet ready. Will it ever be ready? The question remains unanswered.
I have been around this block more than a few times now and so while I am still awaiting the doctor's official diagnosis, the pain is too familiar for me to hold much hope. X-rays were taken this morning and my phone should ring with results sometime tomorrow. I am also awaiting my insurance's acceptance for an MRI and/or bone scan to be done sometime within the next few days. My doctor is a sports medicine specialist, a distance runner herself and is fighting for me. I know that she wants to see me run this marathon as much as my head wants to, but for the sake of my body she has begged me to sit it out.. at least for now.
In the meantime, in between the waiting, I am staying off my foot. You won't see my running but you also won't see me wallowing in my own self-pity. The timely date of injury and life's events have blessed me with a great deal of perspective. The world is a bigger place and things could be much worse. If any of those poor victims walked out of the twin towers with a fractured foot they would have been the luckiest of souls alive. And so I Am Lucky.
