One Year Ago.

January 23, 2010 was bitter and bright and, unlike today, without the ugly, leftover snow you can only find in cities about a week post-storm.  This turned into the day I chose running over brooding or therapy or medication.

At about 8AM I piled on every warm piece of running gear I'd amassed since my days of Upper Township Middle School Cross Country (Yes, I'm thirty.  Yes, I covet items I wore in the 90's.) including my standard red puffy vest with its navy blue liner that was my first purchase at a trendy store and has consistently been part of my wardrobe since 1992.  Once dressed like a hobo, I set out for my office, which would later become home base for all of my runs, alone, accompanied and otherwise.  By its fountain I would meditate to my breathing or expensive heels clicking on the sidewalk or the traffic on Market Street and pretend to stretch.   When I couldn't put off that maiden run a second longer, off I went down Market Street into a world I knew nothing about, looking (literally) for a path I'd never set foot on in my decade's worth of living in Philadelphia.   Suddenly, as Thirtieth Street Station loomed, so did the entrance to the Schyulkill River Path.  Down an unexpected number of steps, I was off and, for lack of better word, running.   

This run was the beginning of an obsession.  An obsession that would yank me out of the dark and remind me that I am exactly where I am meant to be. Period.  I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened but running re-focused an otherwise lost woman and slapped a smile back on her face.  This is something vacations, therapy and yes, medication and ridiculous amounts of wine could not touch.  

Yes, 2010 was a year full of competition and personal bests (PB's) with highlights in the form of trail runs (Tyler Arboretum, I'm coming for you this April!), the Broad Street Run (You, dear BSR, will always be the love of my running career and the cornerstone to what I accomplish) and various half marathons and mud runs throughout the greater Philly area.   

But then, again, 2010 giveth and 2010 taketh away.  On October 5, 2010, my favorite Doctor at the Rothman Institute slapped me.  Or, at least if he had actually slapped me, my reaction would have made more sense.  

After a brilliant 20 mile Saturday run followed by a 5K mud run on Sunday, I was in so much pain I couldn't walk.  X-Rays and an MRI later, "Stress Fracture" came out of my doctor's mouth, followed by "restrict walking" and other words like "crutches" and "complete rest."  To say I was numb would be an understatement.  I was dead.  In late November I began Physical Therapy for the residual (albeit ridiculously painful) IT band syndrome and assorted other tendon-hating-on-me-for-over-using-it issues.  In late December, I was cleared to run again.  3/4 of a mile never felt so good.  

So, if you haven't already guessed, this blog will detail my humbling road back - from .75 miles to 26.2 in November 2011.  I am a Philly runner and I will not hide it - I am a huge believer in Physical Therapy (now, at least) and I will not tone that down here.  What I will do is detail a really rocky and hard-fought start (a year later, to the day) to what I hope will be crossing the finish line in the Philadelphia Marathon in 2011.  But, first things first, the Broad Street Run.