I am not running a marathon on November 7. And here are the 5 stages of running injury grief that led me to this conclusion.

You guys knew that I wasn’t running it.

Deep down – I knew it, too. I just had to deal with my loss.

Yes, it is just a race, but it was a major element in my running life this year. And as I look back at my posts, I realize I went through the 5 stages of running injury grief in processing the loss.

Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation (Homeless Lady edition)

5 Stages of Running Injury Grief

1. Denial

Oh, I’ve been struggling with an injury, but I think I got it under control. I can start marathon training.

Oh, I’ll just miss the 2nd week of training to recover, it’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

2. Anger

This run.

3. Bargaining

If I could just get those orthotics…

If I can start running next week…

If I can fit in just a couple really long runs in October…

4. Depression

I don’t deserve a marathon.

A new year’s resolution down the drain…

I haven’t even hit 300 miles this year (last year I ran 600+).

5. Acceptance

Dude, you cannot train for a marathon in a month.

We often overestimate what we can do in a year, and we underestimate 10 years. So, with trembling fingers, I write down my 10 year goal. A goal that seems ridiculous and scary as heck.

In ten years, I want to qualify and run the Boston Marathon.

Yes, me and my 5 hour-marathon, me and my can’t-complete-300-miles by October, me and my injury-prone self — ALL OF US — are going to qualify, get accepted, and run the Boston Marathon.

Current qualifying times are 3:35 for 18-34 yr old females and 3:40 for 35-39 yr old females, with this year’s acceptance times being 3:32 and 3:37, respectively. Qualifying just allows you to submit an application, it doesn’t guarantee acceptance.

This girl.

I accept my current losses, and look forward to a slow 10-year plan (to make me fast).

Update: Can an average runner qualify for Boston?