Pain is temporary, pride is forever, Portland is next Sunday.

I've really struggled the past month and a half with this injury, alternating between being terrified to even attempt running 26.2 at Portland because of the pain and resigning myself to sucking it up and doing the best I can.  Luckily the cheapskate in me, the one who doesn't want to just eat my $135 registration and lose out on a "free" technical t-shirt (Portland's shirts are awesome and I covet one), votes for sucking it up.  So suck it up I will.

Over the past month I've eked out a series of crummy, painful "long" runs:  15 miles, then 15.5, then 13, then today my final 10.  I can't remember the last time I did 18; I'd have to scroll down to check.  The pain moves up and down my leg from week to week; when it settles in the hip that's the least painful.  Thankfully that's where it was today, mostly due to Darian, my massage guru.  He gets one more crack at it Thursday, and then it's all up to me.

Next Sunday, I will do Portland.  I will do the best I can on that day with the cards I've been dealt.  I will walk if I need to.  I will not whine or feel sorry for myself, because I can still get out there and do it and there are many who can't.  I will still manage to have fun at my first big marathon (the others I've done have been tiny in comparison).  I will support my friend Erin.  I will finish the race.  And then, when it's all over, I will fix this injury and start planning for my next marathon, whenever it is, because I will qualify for Boston.














This was yesterday at Discovery Park.  Murphy would like me healthy again too, he misses his weekday tours of the neighborhood.