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victoria 70.3

In sum: I swam (and in typical fashion, it was meh). I rode my little heart out (don’t tell anyone, but I think I secretly like hills and I absolutely loved this course). And because my MRI did not show a stress fracture, I ran.

I got 11K into the run, rolled my ankle, walked it off, started running again, and then rolled it even worse at 13K, so I pulled the plug.

The girl huddled in a volunteer’s hoodie and a plastic rain poncho, foot propped up on a rock, simultaneously crying and cheering before Run Aid Station 1? Hi, that was me.

Because even though you go into a race injured and knowing a DNF is possible, it still feels disappointing. And I am so incredibly tired of the seemingly stupid injuries that have plagued me all season.

Med tent adventures


This is the chart I made leading up to the race, when I was waiting for my MRI results and trying to figure out my options.

I guess I’m at the “Heal 100%” box right now. I don’t know what’s next. I’m trying to take it one day at a time, but it’s hard. I feel like I need redemption, that surge of emotion that comes with crossing a finish line.


The race doctor thought I might have a fracture, so Big Ginger drove me to the emergency room at Victoria General Hospital for an x-ray. I was still in spandex. I needed a shower.

Thankfully, nothing was broken. However, I spent a few days on crutches. And Big Ginger pushed me around the Butchart Gardens in a wheelchair. (Every time he let go of the chair, I'd yell, "I'm escaping!" and wheel myself away as fast as possible. I'm sure this game was really fun for him.)


I have a brace on now. My ankle is still swollen, but it’s getting better. The bruising is going away. Yesterday I rode my commuter bike (hooray for flat pedals) and felt fine.

Fingers crossed.