Y’all, this is gonna sound like a country song, but I’ve got a busted body and a broken heart. If you’ve been reading BFD for awhile, you know that I injured my left knee way back in 2008, and it’s caused a host of problems, ultimately resulting in some chronic muscle problems in my right leg that make it super painful to walk. Hence the busted body. It hasn’t been fun, as I’m sure you can imagine.
Here’s a gallery of pics of my 11 of my 12 half marathons. I can’t seem to find a picture of #3, Rochester 2008.
You know what’s been harder than years of painful physical therapy? The heartbreak of not being able to race. Sunday is the traditional Gilda’s Gang half marathon here in Rochester. I’ll be there taking pictures of the Gang, but to not be out on the course, wearing that shirt, breaks my heart so much. This is my second year with no marathons, and time isn’t making it easier for me to sit on the sidelines.
I used to think that walking a half marathon was the hardest thing I’d ever do. It’s brutal work, both for the body and the mind. But being forced to sit out when I still want to participate, when the need to complete those 13.1 miles still sings in my blood? That’s so much harder. Who would’ve thought?