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And just that like – it was over between us.

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All my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay.
Oh, I believe in Yesterday.

Yesterday was not a good day for me. Yesterday was the day she broke up with me. Yesterday was the day she uttered a simple, “I think we’re done here …” and just like that, it was all over. I couldn’t believe it! What had I done wrong? Nothing; I had done nothing wrong. The truth was – and she even admitted it –I had done everything right.

My Achilles tendonosis is healed, and my physiotherapist discharged me from further treatments.

Obviously, our furtive lunch time meetings over the past three months meant much more to me than they did to her. I thought we had something. Apparently all we had was a case of tendonosis and now that was gone. I saw her as a saviour of my soul (and sole) but she saw me as just another Achilles – and not a very special Achilles at that.

Time with her passed so quickly and I shared so much more with her than with anyone else in my life. She’s the only one who seen my legs since last summer (well, my left leg for sure).

She was twenty years my junior, married to an elite Triathlete and they had a six-month old baby girl together. Despite these obstacles, it’s not surprising that I fell do hard for her – she made me feel young again. I worshipped her special brand of “love” (acupuncture, dry needling, deep tissue massage, joint adjustments) because they were just what I’d been aching for.

I should have known it would come to this. The signs were there. The most obvious sign being that my insurance only covers $500 of physiotherapy and I’ll already given her $460. Still, my Monday and Wednesday lunch hours are going to be just a little darker now, without me being able to see her and her bright yellow safe needle disposal box. She fixed the broken parts of me. She fixed the broken parts of me that I didn’t even know were broken.  But apparently now the broken parts are fixed and I now have to venture out in the world, and run!

All I have left of my time with her is a memory – and post-treatment exercises. She said, “Run!” (she actually said, “you should try some running now” but whatever, it cut me to the core – which is another body part altogether).

And “run” I will. Baby steps at first but I will get over this – and her. She said I would and I will. But the ‘what if’ still lingers. She left me with one ‘what if’ – a glimmer of hope that perhaps not all was over between us. She said, “I’ll leave your file open for three months – call me if your Achilles flairs up again”

So a rebound (or recurrence) was still possible!

Oh, I believe in Yesterday.

The finish line …

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old running shoes

That’s not what the finish line was supposed to look like.

That’s not what the finish line was supposed to feel like.

Nothing compares to that feeling of crossing a finish line in a road race. Passing between two chains of cheering spectators, almost all of them strangers to you and each other, you are urged on to that carpeted, beeping finish line. Immediately, you experience a disoriented state of euphoric pride and pain that lingers for the rest of the day – several days if you’re really lucky. The race is done.  Then the pain subsides and the pride hangs around.  You’re intoxicated by the pride long enough for you to forget what the pain was all about and do it again. Crazy runners.

Every one of those runners at today’s Boston Marathon knows the satisfaction in crossing that finish line.  They all had to qualify for their participation in this event.  They all had worked so long and so hard to experience the agony and excitement in crossing this auspicious finish line – this holy grail of running events.

This time there would be no satisfaction in crossing the finish line. For everyone involved in today’s Boston Marathon, there will only be prolonged shock, sadness and grief.  This time the pain may not subside.

My heart and prayers go out to all those affected by this tragedy, as a runner, as a human being.

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