"I can't bend my knee. But I'm finished, dammit."
Behold, the Halloween text of a woman in pain.
It contains a smidge of hyperbole. I was bending my knee just find for miles; I enjoyed 17 miles of free wheeling knee bendability. For those miles, I blithely made full advantage of some healthy patella action.
At the 17 mile marker, I could have sworn someone on the sidelines took to stomping on an economy sack of Doritos. Or maybe they were just popping packing bubbles. "Crunch. Pop. Crunch. Pop." Or maybe, just maybe, my knee had taken to the percussive arts with zeal. That would explain the beastly stabbing pain that was making my eyes water.
Damn you, Rosie Ruiz and timing chips. With 9 miles left, there was a lovely subway stop a few limps away that would dump me at the finish.
Hobbling up towards the 18 mile marker, I got a brief view of the Georgetown University tower. Mom spent her last years on that campus undergoing surgeries, chemo and radiation in a bid to beat colon cancer. She lost. 8 miles more miles, waddling on a lame knee, was nothing in comparison. Couldn't come close. I'd raised thousands of dollars for the American Cancer Society with a promise that I'd finish the Marine Marathon for Helga and I'd be damned if I didn't finish.
The truth is, I really could bend my knee. It just hurt like hell. But what's a little snap, crackle and patella pop when it comes to fighting cancer?
That's why I keep running. And I'm going to keep running until I raise $64,000 for the American Cancer Society. That's $1,000 for each year my beautiful mother lived.
This blog is a running journey, a compilation of what I've learned in my years of training, injury and baking for optimal running efficacy with an emphasis on health and fundraising. If you have a motivational running story to share, send it along.
Happy and healthy running. And don't forget to donate!