I feel a little vain, for I am about to write about myself for the next few paragraphs. Unfortunately, but maybe thankfully to you, I will not be boasting about anything. I will only be simply unleashing the recent event in my life categorized as the genre of tragic. But maybe you, the reader, can relate or compare or learn from this non-boasting tragic story.
I am a runner. A collegiate runner, but most of all a soul runner. I never find running a burden– it is instead beyond a privilege. I was just returning from a stress fracture in my femur ready to take on anything. Ready to free the desire to run that had been squished up and piled in my heart. The desire was cascading out of my aorta, and I was ready to throw it up! However, calling myself a collegiate runner does not feel quite right yet because it feels equivalent to the word ‘poser’ pinching at me. This is because I have not quite gotten the chance to prove myself like I know I can. And now this chance is gone again for quite some time.
I shattered my knee cap into 8 pieces on Easter and went into immediate surgery April Fools morning. Not a funny joke April Fools.
Now I wont be recovered until mid-junior year. Then how long will it take to get in shape? Anyone? 5 years of school is too much green paper….so no extra time to run. Now what? Should I go for it? Can I make a difference for the team with only my senior year?
So many choices and so many questions that approach the eerie unknown.I guess all I can do right now is ask these questions, and let time give me the answer. Although I remain unsure of the outcome of this suppressed dream I hold so tightly on, there are two things I am sure of:
The people around me
The fact that I am breathing
Those two things alone dissipate the pity that creeps up my broken knee. They remind me that I am alive. Quite a gift that is.
So when complaining about the bitter cold biting at your cheeks, remember you can feel that.