The agony and no ecstasy

In February, it was my back. In April, it was my neck. In July, it was my feet. Now, in October, it's my toe.

Yes, my toe, but I'm getting ahead of the story.

My mom purchased plane tickets for her, me and my sister to visit my brother, sister-in-law and niece in February. I was in such agony, I thought I'd have to cancel the night before. My lower back had not hurt that bad in years.

I made it through, barely, with Ibuprofen and muscle relaxers, came back home and saw the doc. She put me on those same drugs, and added Prednisone to the regimen. A few days later, poof! The pain was gone.

In April, I developed a stiff neck associated with stress for an event I was planning. Not unusual for me ... except that when the event was over the pain wasn't. Instead, it was escalating.

I went to the chiropractor for the first time. After an x-ray and MRI, it turns out that I have a bulging disk in my neck.

OK. That's manageable. I ran my second half marathon with a PR in May.

In July, I injured my feet. I believe the culprit was a new pair of wedge high heels (that were a size too big) I'd worn for extended hours while covering the Festival of the Bells.

This has plagued me ever since. Most days, though not horrific, the pain is noticeable.

I ran a 5K on a whim on race day earlier this month and experienced no pain as a result of that decision.

Optimism, though always keeping me going, was finally edging out the darkness and light was at the tunnel's end. I would do some very short runs and bikes to get started back up again.

On what was certain to be one of the last nice days of the year, a perfect opportunity to train, I injured my toe. I'll leave out the details, but suffice it to say it would be extremely foolish of me to stress my foot for the next two months.

All of these injuries have been breaking my triathlon-training heart. I am not using them as an excuse not to train. Indeed, I'm dying to train. My tighter slacks and race-day pictures like these remind me of that all too frequently.

Here's hoping that I can call this the Year of injury, put it in my past and call next year the Year of First-Time Marathoner and First-Time Ironman. Fingers crossed.