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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)