Bones can fracture. Hearts can’t be broken.

It was the night before Annecy Maxi Race when I spent my evening sitting in the bath, crying and feeling sorry for myself. I knew I had stress fracture. Even when it wasn’t bruised. Even when it wasn’t swollen. Even when I could run with it. Even when my physio and orthopedic surgeon both said it is not really possible that the odd sore pain is stress fracture. Two races and two and a half weeks later I finally had MRI. Because I insisted. Wednesday morning – with my running and climbing kit in the backpack – I received a phone call. “Come over today, you need air cast boot. You have stress fracture.”


I was very adult about it and went to buy myself ice cream for breakfast. After little waterfall and telling everyone what actually happened, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. There it was. My fractured tibia. Small fracture – as they called it. Follow up appointment in 2 weeks. 3 to 4 weeks in boot. Road to recovery starts here.

And suddenly everyone feels sorry for me. Because running is what defines me. Running is all I do. Running is part of me. Well, I’m not sorry. I’m not heartbroken. My world didn’t end.

My mind is stronger than fractured bone.

My heart is hungry for adventures. It is not running that defines me. It is me that defined my running. And it takes much more to break my spirit than one fractured bone.

I’m not scared, I’m not worried, I don’t have fear of missing out. I feel free. Free to rest. My body was pushed too much, too far. So it broke. I deserved it. I pushed it. As I was so focusing on the training that I neglected the most important part: listening to my body. It is just running. And finally I full understood my own saying. There is so much to do in the world. I will be back any time soon, but I’m not counting down the days. Come what may and hope for quick recovery. One step at the time and relentless forward progress. I’m not losing my fitness. I’m not losing my life.

I’m truly amazed that I have so much strength in me. I’m truly proud. As this is what running taught me. To be strong. To enjoy the moment. To follow the path rather than rushing to finish line. But I know there is a finish line. How far? Let’s see.

I’m not afraid.

I’m an ultra runner after all. 

Follow the story of my boot on Instagram bootexploring

Pics by @knowjack




One Comment Add yours

  1. doodlemarti says:

    And you’ve pass through this! You’ve ran one Ultra in Açores (in Italian, Azzorre…but I think you’ve understood) and other races around Europe. You are a warrior, even if you’ve felt weak or lost.
    I’ve got a small problem on my right knee and doctor said I only have to build stronger quadricepts so I won’t need surgery in my future. So I keep running, sometimes I feel pain, sometimes not. It always remebers me that I’m human, after all 😉


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