It’s been a painful week, mentally and physically. After my ankle sprain back in November 2025, I spent months in uncertainty: weeks completely off exercise, then a slow rebuild, stacking cautious progress on top of a condensed and aggressive plan that always felt just about manageable to get me in shape to finish my first marathon in April. Or so I believed.
Last week, my knee started to misbehave. A slight inward rotation on even short runs, the odd niggle here and there, nothing dramatic at first. But on Friday, the day of what should have been my final 18 km wind‑down long run before the marathon - everything changed. The outside of my knee flared so sharply that I had to walk the last 3–4 km of what had already been reduced to a 10 km "long run". In that moment, I knew I’d pushed too far. My marathon hopes didn’t just wobble; they collapsed.
I still clung to a bit of hope in the days that followed, but deep down I knew the truth. Continuing would risk turning a temporary setback into something far more permanent. Dropping out wasn’t giving up, it was choosing long‑term health over short‑term pride.
Accepting that has been hard. But it’s also the first step in a new direction.
Now, I’m shifting my focus to recovery... Real recovery... With the goal of returning to the point where I can run strong, consistent 10 km sessions multiple times a week again. I know that’s achievable because I’ve been there before, and I also know that when I get back to that level, I’ll appreciate the feeling more than ever.
This isn’t the end of anything. It’s the beginning of a smarter, stronger return!
