A week and a half ago, I ran 18 miles. The farthest I have ever run and only six weeks, just two long training runs short of the marathon.
My foot started hurting but a short one without much pain. It was sore and a little stabby but three and a half hours of running would do that to a foot.
But then it kept getting worse to the point I was having trouble falling asleep because the pain was so intense. - before the Vicodin that is. A visit to the doctor got me an order for an MRI to detect either soft tissue injury or a stress fracture. But, turns out the MRI would cost us at least $700, which most likely the same result - me not running. A stress fracture means no running and soft tissue means only run if it doesn't hurt. And people, it hurts.
I decided to forgo the expensive test and face the facts there will be no Jan. 20 marathon. The doctor has given me four days to soak my foot in a ice bucket five times a day. If no improvement, this foot is in a cast come Monday.
It is way more defeating than I expected. Once the decision was made, the tears flowed. The thought of starting this journey all over again makes me feel angry. The cold early mornings, the weekend afternoons sacrificed to shoes and pavement, all to be done over again.
I'm positive there is a marathon finish line in my future. Just not this one.
Sulk.
