I'm done for...

I'm injured. I'm done for. My life is over. I can no longer compete in the 2009 Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon. I was running the other day and all was seemingly well. In fact, it was better than well, it was ALMOST easy. Fault number one: thinking running was easy.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized how incredibly injured I was. I needed comfort. I wanted my Mommy to tell me it was going to be okay. I wanted my Fiance to hold me. I wanted sympathy. I was thrust into a deep dark depression because of my injury...and I knew that this would change me forever. I was now going to be the girl that couldn't compete because she had life threatening injuries. That girl. You know the one. The featured one on the 11:00pm news. Headline: "Girl gains injury, loses chances to compete." There will be a foundation set up in my name, I'm sure of it. Or at least I'll get a street named after me.

My injury, too gross for the weak of stomach and heart. My injury, too sad for the sympathetic. My injury, the bloody toe.

I know what you're thinking. It looks bad. Really bad. Perhaps I'll need amputation and a lifetime of therapy. Or perhaps I'll be doomed to a life of constant Band-Aid changes. Who knows. It is anyone's guess at this point. All I know is, my sock is stained, and so is my soul/sole. It is going to be hard for me to recover from this one. I just don't know where to start.

I guess it starts with courage.

Sigh...