Nothing lasts forever: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Change is inevitable; cherish the highs, endure the lows. In the darkest moments, remember: this too shall pass.

These past 18 weeks have been a feat of endurance, but not in the way I’d dreamed of. Instead of training, racing, and logging endless miles on the trails, an unrelenting case of sciatica has forced me into submission and confined me to only the most gentle forms of movement.

I did what I could to fix things on my own. I sought help when things weren’t improving. Unfortunately, I’m still living this hell, but I continue to put forth every effort to overcome it because, deep down, I know “this too shall pass.”

Helpless and hopeless is how my brain wants to feel much of the time, but I refuse to let this injury define me. It’s not my destiny, and I won’t let it dictate my future. In my darkest moments, I cry, I get frustrated, and I feel sorry for myself. Then, I take a deep breath and whisper,

“Nothing brings the rewards of moving. Just keep moving.”

This mantra nudges me into a more positive frame of mind. It reminds me that forward motion is the only way out of this, just like with every other injury I’ve faced. Despite the uncertainty and immense frustration, I know I’ll get through this.

So what does this mean for my 100-mile race at the end of October?

I’ve known for a while that 100 miles was likely not going to happen without further injuring myself. I’ve held onto the possibility of running one of the shorter distance races on the same day, but as of today, I’ve made the decision to withdraw from the race entirely and accept a race credit.

My dream of running 100 miles still holds; I’m just letting go of timelines and giving my body the space it needs to heal. Hopefully, I’ll be back onto the trails again soon. If not, I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other until I get there. Slowly but surely, I’ll find my way.

Always evolving, never stagnant.