So most people I've told about my marathon know that I was injured for the race. The rational part of me knew that I shouldn't run. The emotional part of me knew that I had to. I had done all the training. I was as ready as I would ever be. The day was perfect. Matt was by my side when the gun went off.
I have started too many great climbs and have retreated before the summit. Not because I couldn't get there, but because I was afraid I might not get there. Or, worse, afraid to get there. This time I wasn't going to stand in my own way. I wasn't going to let fear of failure or fear of success stop me. I wanted this.
So I chanted to myself (there is no pain, only love). I talked to my knee. I breathed into the pain and blew the pain out. In truth, it hurt every step. There were times when I thought my knee was going to give out and buckle beneath me. But I wasn't going to stop running unless I fell down. I never did.
I crossed the finish line with more relief than euphoria. I have my medal, and I love it. I am so glad I took this on. I can't wait to do it again.
2 comments:
You sound very Zen, girl! How is your knee doing now?
I go to the sports med dr on Monday. I'm having trouble with it, and I'm not running for a while. I miss it.
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