When I woke up this morning, I tried rotating my right ankle to see if it was feeling any better. Unfortunately, it was still in bad shape. I spent about half an hour lying there just trying to flex my foot every which way in the hopes that I would rehab it to the point where I could reduce it to a dull (and ultimately ignorable) ache. It wasn’t to be.
About an hour after getting up I decided to try to run down the hallway once or twice to gauge if I could run on it. I mean, consider the movie Run Fatboy Run. Simon Pegg’s character made it through a sprained ankle and a freaking ugly blister (which are painful in their own way). Then again, it IS just a movie. In any case, after just a few steps I knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Regardless, I decided to make the trek to Burlington to pick up my race kit. I told myself that since I’d already paid the cash, I might as well go in and get the shirt. I also wanted to see how my ankle faired by the time I got there.
The drive in wasn’t bad at all despite some slow spots in traffic–mostly on the DVP. Because of the winter months, I’d forgotten just how beautiful Toronto is. The views from that highway are pretty spectacular.
When I got to the hotel, I attempted to try to walk as normally as possibly so that I wouldn’t stick out among all the healthy people. After a few steps I reverted back to limping all the way through. I got my kit, but they told me that due to a printing error they ran out of Men’s XL and L shirts. They gave me a medium shirt which was entirely too small for me. After walking out of the room, I decided to just pull the plug. All of the discomfort made it evident that there was no way I’d be able to run 21.1 kilometres like that. I went back in and with sadness I handed in my chip. The lady at the counter was entirely sympathetic. There were apparently a lot of chip surrenders due to injuries. She told me that there seems to be an upswing in the number of people having to bow out. That’s cold comfort or me, who’s known to have a ridiculous amount of staying power.
When I got home, I felt like shit. I slept. I wanted to block out the world even if for a little while. It’s entirely frustrating to have been working so hard toward a particular goal only to suddenly not be able to complete it. I’ve been working my ass off, putting up with the nasty weather. I’ve been very careful to not injure myself from slipping on ice. There’s a bit of irony in the fact that I’ve been taken out from something mundane like walking on a city street. There’s more irony in that my journey to get my t-shirt anyway resulted in me getting something ill-fitting.
I’m trying not to sink into thinking that this was all a waste. No. I’ve gotten stronger and faster from all of this training. When I do return to running, I’m now more determined than ever to rock it. This is an unfortunate setback, but I’m not going to let it turn me off of running. This battle may have been lost, but the war is far from over.
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