Some days I get so angry that I could cry.
Angry that I cannot run without suffering painful consequences.
Angry that I fall in love with running and a few short months later, it was taken away.
More than anything, angry at myself for under-eating for years and then running myself to death, leading to brittle bones and just begging for a stress fracture.
Angry that my stress fracture WILL NOT go away.
Angry that though my stress fracture is supposedly “healed” but I still have pain.
Angry that I cannot throw on some running shoes and run my stress away.
Angry that I have yet to cross the finish line of a race.
Heck, angry that I have YET to even train for a race.
Angry for the dreams of running a marathon that seem less likely each day.
Some days when I AM able to run just a few minutes in between walking on the treadmill, I’ve never been so happy.
(The Story Part II to come tomorrow)