Starting Over

I ran the Bronx 10 Miler last weekend with friends. I was well on track to smash my previous 10 mile PR. Then, around mile eight, I felt a sharp pain in my left knee and was forced to limp the last two miles to the finish line.

I felt overwhelmed, sad, stressed, and embarassed. When I crossed the finish line, I was wheelchaired to to the medical tent and my 3:30 marathon goals flashed before my eyes. I spent the new few days painfully limping when I walked and began the PT process for my knee.

It sucks, and I don’t know where I stand for the marathon on November 1st. I got injured last year and was also disappointed but this one hurts more, way more. This week has been the worst mental state in recent memory. Running was my favorite outlet to be outdoors, be with others, feel alive - and it feels like it got taken away from me.

I can’t stop thinking about running - I miss running at sunrise before work, I miss running with my team mates after work, I miss going to run clubs and seeing my friends, I miss the post-run high, I miss the freedom that came with hard workouts.

I’m still sad and feel lost, but I know I’ll be back. I pray and dream that I’ll be back in this shape for the marathon. But even if I’m not, I know I’ll be back eventually. I’ve been through harder challenges, faced more self-doubt, and suffered far more. And I’ve always found a way to get back and better.

I can’t wait for the next time I get to run - I know how thankful and appreciative I’ll be. I’m excited to run, breathe, laugh, smile, sweat, grimace, and suffer.

Before, running meant freedom to me. Now, it means resilience. I know that I can’t be at my peak forever - running is a circle of building, peaking, declining, rebuiling - over and over and over again. This is just another loop of that cycle

I’ll be back, November 1st.