Will It Ever End?

I stare at the ceiling, the same familiar drop ceiling I've seen so many times in this room. My jaw is set in a hard line; I'm biting down on the inside of my lower lip to keep it steady. But no matter how I study the ceiling and steel myself, I can't stop a couple of the tears that trickle down my face.

My PT pats my knee and turns his back for a minute, pretending to busy himself with something else. There is silence. He's stopped asking questions for the moment, because he knows where my mind is and knows I can't talk about it. There's no need. He knows exactly what an endless journey this has been.

I've been coming here for a year and a half. 3 major injuries. No marathons. A sickening amount of money spent.

For what? For nothing?

I don't know.

Why bother?

I guess the therapy helps a little? Maybe I wouldn't be running at all if I wouldn't be getting treatment? But what is “not at all” compared to 60 miles spread out over 2 months, in runs of 3-5 miles. Most of them painful. What's that, in the grand scheme of marathoning?

It's nothing.

The PT starts talking again. We could try this. Or that. Continue with the ART? Definitely do the strengthening? Perhaps it's a stress reaction, taking time to heal. Though it should have healed by now. Let's look at all potential issues here. The hyper-extended knee is a strong possibility. We should move in that direction for strengthening.

But… then what? After all, I strengthened my hips and glutes for 4 months, and it didn't fix it. What if, in another 4 months, nothing changes?

He doesn't know. He can only tell me what he sees.

You know what I see?

I see weeks and weeks of little to no running. I see an entire marathon cycle length of zero progress. I see dreams spiraling down the drain into nothingness again. I see the third consecutive season, scratched. I see people around me racing and running, excited for their success, their Prs, their BQs. I see other runners healing from their injuries and moving on. I see into my heart, and I see pain and devastation and defeat. Over and over and over again. How long will it take, until I am broken completely? How much more until I am forced to concede? How often do I try training for a marathon, before I admit that it isn't in the cards for me?

How do you say good-bye to dreams? How do you live with yourself, always dangling helplessly between the inability to do what you love, and the constant, relentless ache for it? 

How do you cope when it never stops?

I can't speak much, for the rest of the session. There's too much emotion there, bottled up from nearly 20 weeks of waiting, hoping, and despairing. And counting the times before that, nearly 2 years of wasted time. 2 years of hope that never saw the light of day.

Woodenly, I leave the building and walk to my car. My body falls into a numb autopilot of driving- I could drive home in my sleep, I've been here so many times- but my emotions come rushing back in.

I weep my way across the city. Silent. Staring straight ahead. But the tears spill and spill but I'm barely aware of them. Like bleeding when you're in shock. It keeps coming. Like the injuries, like the pain...  Just. Keeps. Coming.

I go to the gym and do the exact same thing that brought me here: run. My knee is taped up in every direction, creating an awkward kind of bandage that I must run through. It's there to force my knee forward slightly. I don't know if it helps. Has anything helped, really?

The injury starts speaking up toward the end of the run. With as much treatment as the PT has done on my today, I'm surprised it's not worse. It's a couple of miles. But, that's not good enough. I want to run without taking ice and ibuprofen, without straps and tape forcing my muscles to do other things. I want to know that I will end the run happy and strong, not sad and in pain. I want to run free and unfettered, in both mind and spirit.

Run free…

I can barely remember what that's like.

And so I go on. They all say it will get better. They all tell me to hang in there, to have faith. To believe. Because it will end, eventually.

Will it?