Every time I get injured, even in a small way, there is fear when I start running again. Always. I don't like being afraid, I don't even like admitting it, but it's there. And this shitty weather we're having is bringing it all back in a way, because the last thing I want to do is go out and wrench a knee, sprain an ankle, or even break a bone because I wanted to run.
I'm desperate to do this marathon - and that leads me to a contradictory set of circumstances, I suppose. I want to train, I want to run, I want the momentum that this brings. I want the calm that comes with consistent runs, and the progress. But I can't bear the thought of injury ruling me out of the event; and so while it's been icy, which is most days recently, I haven't been out running. I've done one 7+ mile run in two weeks, and that's the only one I've done.
It's not good enough. I'm going to have to rejoin the gym and go on the fucking dreadmill if the streets worry me this much. Because I'm doing that bastard marathon come hell or high water.