Did a friend forward this to you? Subscribe here! When I sprained my ankle last July, I thought I’d be out of commission for a few weeks at most. As the months wore on, I slowly made my way back to yoga, to spin, to the weight room, but I still couldn’t run. There was something about pushing forward on my foot that felt painful, nearly impossible. Summer passed, then fall, then winter. When I drove around town and saw runners trotting down sidewalks and streets, I felt resentment. When I learned it would take surgery and six months of recovery to fix my torn cartilage, I cried for an entire day. Since my life is not currently conducive to surgery, I finally accepted my new reality: I am no longer a runner.
This is not where I thought I'd end up 🎠
This is not where I thought I'd end up 🎠
This is not where I thought I'd end up 🎠
Did a friend forward this to you? Subscribe here! When I sprained my ankle last July, I thought I’d be out of commission for a few weeks at most. As the months wore on, I slowly made my way back to yoga, to spin, to the weight room, but I still couldn’t run. There was something about pushing forward on my foot that felt painful, nearly impossible. Summer passed, then fall, then winter. When I drove around town and saw runners trotting down sidewalks and streets, I felt resentment. When I learned it would take surgery and six months of recovery to fix my torn cartilage, I cried for an entire day. Since my life is not currently conducive to surgery, I finally accepted my new reality: I am no longer a runner.