It's ironic that as I sit here, starting my very own grown up running blog, that I cannot run. You see I was at the height of training for my first marathon when I got a stress fracture. And it sucks. And my heart is fractured, probably worse than my metatarsal.
The frustration is only amplified by the fact that I wasn't just going to run a marathon in October, but had a total of six races I was getting ready to do right before this fracture happened. I know everyone says there is a reason, and that my body was screaming at me to rest, but I don't care. I miss running like a fat kid misses cake, and it is killing me to be sitting on my couch writing on a beautiful fall evening instead of out pounding the pavement.
I'm 29, I've tried to train for three marathons so far, and every time, something tragic happens. My goal in training for the marathon this year was to qualify for Boston. I was going to run the Wichita Marathon on October 19. My goal is to run a marathon before I'm 30, I have five months. And the goal isn't just to run it, but to qualify for Boston while I'm at it.
So this is my somewhat tragic, ridiculous, and irreverent tale of my quest to Boston.