A Long Road Home

Last Memorial Day weekend I found myself in the Hamptons. This weekend consisted of me waking up at dark hours of the morning to do a 17 mile training run on the water, which I loved every second of. My run left me feeling free and confident on the beach followed by caloriless beer and fun aggressive late nights.

For this years Memorial Day weekend, I had made a goal to run my first mile or two. It would mark the four weeks when my doctor told me I would be allowed to do "whatever I want." My goal was then altered my my physical therapist when she told me that realistically I won't be running till I have no pain walking. Unfortunately, I am yet to take one step without a limp or pain.

This Memorial Day weekend I found myself at Figawi in Nantucket, pushing through people in a bar trying not to get toppled over in search of a place to sit down. After an hour had passed and all the blood had rushed to my ankle there was no where to sit or a table to lean up against. Without a 17 miler, or even a single mile in 3 month I was feeling beyond tense. My boyfriend and a few friends left the bar realizing it wasn't the best of situations. The situation was made worse when there were no open cabs.

And after another hour of standing and trying to hail a cab, we bit the bullet and decided that the only option was to walk.... walk the 2 miles home.

How did I walk 2 miles home? I didn't. My boyfriend carried me on his back the entire way. His idea.

We are defined and create our identities by MOMENTS of IMPACT. In 5 years I will not remember the 17 mile run and night I had in the Hamptons last year. But I can garentee that for the rest of my life I will tell the story about the boy who cared enough to give me a piggy back ride all the way home.

Clearly, the road to recovery is much longer than I could have ever imagined. But luckily all these defining moments in between will make every step worth it.