I know that with any marathon training, you will have your ups and downs. Mostly, this time around, I have had my share of downs. It was a long winter with lots of snow, then came the rain and flooding, and another surgery with a toenail removal.
Last week, still on the mend, my mother and I hit the gym so I could get on the bike. It was awful. To me, there is nothing worse than being stuck inside an overheated, poorly ventilated room trying to crank it out on a bike. So, I stopped. We were putting our shoes on and my mother said, "When is the last date to decide if you will defer the race?" The guy sitting next to me overheard and asked what race I was doing. Turns out he is doing the same one and that he has been injured also. He told me that after having a grenade thrown at his head in Iraq and learning he had cancer shortly after, the doctors told him he might never walk again.
Um okay, I guess the angry, open wound on my big toe isn't so bad after all. It was a lesson from a stranger at the exact right time. This whole week I was in pain, I kept saying, "It's not a grenade in my head. It's not a grenade. It's not a grenade."
Yesterday, I stopped being a wimp and went for my last long run. After toughing it through the dark, dreary months, Mother Nature rewarded me with budding trees and green pastures.
The snow banks and freezing temperatures became a distant memory. Spring had finally arrived and my toe screamed, "Let's do this thing!" So, if you see me at mile 22 bonking my brains out, just say, "It's not a grenade."