It was going to be my Boston Qualifier. I was coming in after an amazing experience running the Portland Marathon in the fall. My enthusiasm for racing (and confidence) was high. At the time, I felt a random occasional pain in my knee was nothing of great concern—something that could wait until post-race to be dealt with. I felt it fairly soon into the Eugene Marathon (a fast, flat course that held particular importance to me being in the city I was born and went to college in). By mile 9, I was limping—bad. Mile 12, I made the hardest decision I've ever had to make in a race: to quit. I was worried about getting super far out from the finish line and being so injured, I'd have to take the medical van back in, so when the course split (half to the left to head into their last mile back, full to the right to head out for another 14.2 miles), I went left. I hobbled across the finish line and straight into the medical tent.
Some 6 years later, I finally returned to avenge myself.Read More