Boston un-bound

Sometimes our dreams just don’t pan out as planned.

Since I have come back from my pelvic fracture last fall, things have been going really well for me. I’ve run some of the best races of my life, and I was feeling stronger each time I laced up my shoes.

Stonebridge Half pre-race with my mom

I qualified for the Boston Marathon at White Rock in 2009, and I honestly considered not running it this year. I had already signed up (seeing as how it sold out in about eight hours), but I kept having second thoughts about it. To be completely honest, my favorite race is the half marathon. Sure, I love running long distances, but there is something about marathons that I just don’t fancy, especially because I get such horrible pre-race anxiety. But then I remembered that it has always been a dream of mine to run Boston, and I was not about to give it up. Plus, like I said, I’ve been running really well lately, and I started to believe that I could definitely go out there and post a decent time. I was thinking around 3:16, but my coach (Chris Strait, a.k.a. CC) told me he thought I could do closer to 3:10, based on the time I ran for my most recent half.

Needless to say, I was feeling inspired.

Time for some deflation.

A few weeks ago, I started having a weird pain in my right hip, which is the opposite side of the old pelvic catastrophe. I assumed it was a strained muscle of some sort, so I treated it as such. I even bought a foam roller and made sure to use it after every run and before I went to bed each night. Plus, I didn’t feel a great deal of pain while I was actually running; it was just after the fact. So, it couldn’t be anything major, right?

When will I ever learn?

At the end of March, I ran the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half in Dallas, which I’ve decided is now one of my favorite races. The course is nice, and I LOVED the amount of crowd support that lined the streets. Plus, I love racing in places where there is familiarity.

Anyway, when the race first began, I felt some pain in my hip. In fact, I felt it pretty much the whole race, but I still had it in my mind that it was a muscle issue. Like I said, I ended up running the best race I’ve ever run, so I figured there really couldn’t be anything majorly wrong with me at that point.

I continued to run as normal that week, and I felt ready for the approaching 18-miler I had ahead of me the following Sunday. Friday I played in a students vs. staff basketball game, and the pain worsened after that. When I started the 18 on Sunday, there was pain from the get-go. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about stopping or shortening the distance. But, for some reason, I just had to do 18. My thought was: “I’m pretty sure I will be OK, since it’s just a sore muscle. I will just ice it and roll extra later today.”

When I stopped by my parents’ house that morning before church, my dad asked me why I was limping. Crap. I wasn’t very good at hiding it as I had planned. I told him it was just a sore muscle and that I would be fine.

News flash: I lied.

After not being able to run both Monday and Tuesday, I finally went to see the doctor on Wednesday and got both an x-ray and an MRI. I wouldn’t get the results until Thursday, but I was pretty sure I knew what was wrong with me. I was having trouble accepting it, but I knew this pain was all-too-familiar.

Sure enough, the call on Thursday confirmed it: stress fracture in my hip.

With some amazing women after RnR

I know I said I had at first been resistant about Boston, but I was now so excited about it. I can’t even begin to describe the shattering my heart did when it finally got a grip on reality. Didn’t I just go through this not too long ago? I could have flooded the entire city of Dallas with the amount of tears I cried. I had to repeat myself so many times when I called to cancel my hotel and flight reservations, because the customer service people couldn’t quite make out my words through my crying.

I don’t know why this happened to me right now, just when I was about to conquer a dream I’ve had ever since I was a little girl. The first time I ever heard of the Boston Marathon, I knew one day I would be out there suffering up Heartbreak Hill and crossing the line with the numerous others who had worked their tails off to get there. I won’t pretend to understand this situation. Right now, all I can do is face reality. And, right now, reality sure bites.

I know God has a perfect plan, and I may never know why some things are the way they are. At some point, we all just have to accept that. I can’t say that I’ve yet accepted why I find myself back on crutches (I tried to avoid them, but it turns out they are necessary), but I know I’m just going to have to trust the Big Man on this one. For some reason, I’m not meant to run Boston this year, and that’s all there is to it.

I guess dreams sometimes take twists and turns, and we just have to learn how to adjust and change our courses a bit, regardless of how much it hurts. This is life’s Heartbreak Hill, and I must somehow make my way over it.