About a month ago I injured my shoulder. It was silly. I slept on it funny, then I did a PT session, and then woke up the next morning in agony. All running and cycling and workouts in general stopped. I'd just completed an 18k trail run and was supposed to get in 22k in the lead up to a 26k run in National Park. It was all I could do not to burst into tears at my desk - the pain was so pervasive. There was no way I was running 22k.
I managed to fit in two more runs, and then it was race week. What to do - drop down to the 13k, which I knew I could complete comfortably, or be awesome and run 26? Everyone else in our group had dropped back to 13k. Would I feel happy if I did the same, or like I'd cheated myself?
Right up to the Wednesday before the race I was still second guessing myself, and then a few conversations with fellow runners got me thinking. Perhaps after all these years it was time to just throw my hat in the ring and trust myself that I had the physical and mental strength to do this thing. Perhaps it was time to take a chance. What was life without some risk?
I drove north, I walked into registration, and without even thinking about what I was doing I picked up my race packet for the 26k. It was on.
TBC.