Today marks day 71 of being injured. In my 28 years of living, 17 of these years have been filled with injury-free running. Because of this, these past few months have felt like I am living somebody else’s life. It truly feels as if a part of me is missing. Running has become such an essential part of my daily life, that I consider it as necessary as eating and sleeping. It is my escape from reality; my escape from the worries and stress of this overwhelming, over-stimulated so-called thing we call ‘life’.
On November 19, 2016, I crossed the Philadelphia Marathon finish line in a time of 2:56:42. That race, sparked in me an inner flame, and after some careful rumination and discussions with my coach, I decided to chase my dream of qualifying for the 2020 Olympic Marathon Trials. Once the new year began, I was finally recovered and ready to get back into some tough training, with my eyes set on winning the gold medal in the half marathon at the Maccabiah Games (Jewish Olympics) in July in Israel. However, it seemed that life had a different set of plans…
The first week of January, my boyfriend took me sledding to his backyard home in North Carolina. Growing up in Florida my entire life, I had never experienced the thrills of sledding, and on my very first ‘thrill-ride’, I crashed into a tree and broke my wrist. For the next three weeks, I was in a cast and my training was limited to biking and ellipticaling. Just as I was finally allowed to start running again, I got the flu. After another couple weeks, I was slowly able to get back into my training regimen. I began logging in my miles and was getting more fit than I had ever been. In April I hopped into a 5k road race and surprised myself by running a personal best of 18:15. I was so excited that my hard work was paying off and I couldn’t wait to race in Israel. A couple weeks later, I started having some severe pain in my low back and finally decided to see a doctor. On May 13th, I got diagnosed with a sacral stress fracture.
To say that this injury left me devastated is a vast understatement. It left me feeling like it was hard to breathe. As I came to terms with the diagnosis, I made the decision that this injury was not going to get the best of me. The next 6 weeks entailed me doing 2-3 workouts a day, consisting of 90-120 minute intervals on the elliptical, bike and in the pool, aqua-running. In addition, I began to see a local physical therapist who was helping me rehab 3x/week doing 45-60 minutes of strengthening exercises per session. I also had access to one of the best biomechanics labs in the country at High Point University, and was able to use an alterG (anti-gravity treadmill that allows you to run at a certain percentage of your body weight). With one of the best physical therapists on my side, and a coach who provided me with some of the hardest cross-training workouts I had ever done, I still believed that I was going to win that gold medal.
The week before I left for Israel, I was running on the alterG on a Monday and felt a weird cramping sensation in my left quadricep. I didn’t think much of it, and like a stubborn runner, I ran through it. On Wednesday, the same thing happened, and that is when I began to worry. I took the next few days very easy and was looking forward to attempt my first run back on land in 6 weeks that Sunday. As I jogged my first half mile that Sunday morning, I couldn’t help but smile. FINALLY- I was back at it. Or so I thought. I started my 10×400 interval session, just running comfortably at half marathon pace, trying to ease my legs back into running, and the same cramping sensation began. After the third interval, I limped home defeated emotionally and physically. The day before I left for Israel, I got diagnosed with a level II quadricep strain and told that I would likely not be able to compete in the Maccabi Games.
As I boarded my flight the following day, surrounded by some of the best Jewish athletes in the USA, I was a rollercoaster of emotions. I was thrilled to meet these incredible athletes from all over the country, but I was also in such despair over my situation. Throughout the next two weeks I did my best to focus on the moment and soak in the unforgettable places I was visiting, but I couldn’t help but feel overshadowed by a dark cloud of sadness. Yet still, I had the lingering hope for a miracle. On July 10th, I got on the start line ready to give it everything I could with the hope that I could finish despite my injuries. I pushed my body until it could go no more, and at 10 kilometers, I made the heart wrenching decision to stop. With two strained quads, I know I did all that I could, and I take comfort in the fact that I have no regrets. I poured my heart and soul into my training and there is nothing I would have done differently.
Throughout this whole experience, I feel like I was being tested. Ultimately it is the way we respond to situations that prove our true character, and if there is one thing that this experience has taught me it is that we always have a choice. We can respond with graciousness and accept the challenges life throws our way, or we can be weak and choose to be victims to our circumstances and wither away. At the end of the day, this experience had very little to do with a half-marathon race. The history and significance of where I went cannot be understated. My grandfather said that he was able to see his dreams come true with the birth of his grandchildren and the creation of the State of Israel. I was given the opportunity to travel throughout Israel for three weeks and made friendships that I know will last a lifetime. I am surrounded by a family that one can only dream of having and living in a world where anything is possible. I have a lot to be grateful for, and that is what I choose to focus on. I will not stop fighting, and I will never give up.
