The Beginning, Again

Once upon a time, there was a mom.



She was a martial artist.



She was a runner, and an athlete.



She amazed herself more every day with what her body and mind could do.


One night, during her tae kwon do class, she got injured. To be fair, the flip looked amazing, and it was pretty darn cool that at her age and size, she was able to flips in the first place. But a wrong landing was about to rock her world, and destroy everything she worked for.

After fighting with military medical personnel, she finally got the surgery to repair her torn ACL.



Surprisingly, the surgery wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was everything after. Using the bathroom was hard. Bathing was hard. Trusting her knee enough to put weight on it, walking with crutches, walking without crutches, physical therapy, all difficult.

But the most difficult thing of all, was the toll it took on her mind and spirit. From softball in middle school, cross country in high school, joining the army at 17, getting out at 25 and getting certified as a personal trainer, all those races, the miles, the hours, the obstacles, she was always an athlete. A fat athlete, but an athlete. Struggling with things that used to come easy quickly wore her spirit down. Not being able to do tae kwon do and not being able to run, nearly destroyed any hope she had left of having a life worth living (as opposed to just existing).

Fast-forward to almost a year after the injury, and nine months since surgery, and that former athlete is finally seeing some tiny glimmer of hope that she can be an athlete again.

“You’re not broken,” her trainer, who was helping her further her rehabilitation, said one session, when the mom started to wonder why she was still doing this. “Why try?” she said, “I’m broken and these workouts aren’t getting any easier. I feel like I’m not progressing.”

Her trainer assured her she was, but it wasn’t until last week that she realized she really was getting stronger. She was getting so strong, and improving so much that her trainer encouraged her to start training for a race. Not a marathon, obviously, not yet anyway, but a 5K fun run.


So here we are, 11 months after the night I failed at a flip, and 9 months after surgery, and I am publicly proclaiming my intention to run a half-marathon by my birthday next April. It will be a million times harder this time around than the last couple times, but I need something to work toward to keep my spirits up. Someone hold me to this.

Oh, and yes I’m aware my pictures are sideways. I have no idea how to fix it in the limited time I have. Since moving to the boonies, my internet is spotty at best, so I’m actually writing this blog in a Starbucks at 8:30 at night (when I should be at home getting the kids in bed). Eventually, I’ll have a good internet day and I will fix my pictures then. If I didn’t hammer out this post before I start training tomorrow, I wasn’t going to get this post posted at all (see: the last year where I broke my knee, had surgery, watched my oldest get his black belt, went on a cross-country road trip by myself and another with my kids, and a cross-country move and me getting a trainer, and none of it was blogged about).

If you read this whole post, thanks! My blog and its posts will get more polished, and SHORTER as I get better at this 🙂



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