It is a dark place. It is a place no one wants to find themselves. But, you are not
really a runner until you have been there.

It is a place of pain. It is a place of perpetual frustration. It is a place where
hope is hard to come by.

If you’re lucky, your visit will be brief. Whatever damage has been inflicted will heal and you will find yourself running again in short order.

God forbid, you’re unlucky. Your stay might be prolonged. The pain lingers. Your life becomes an exercise in managing it.

You feel your power slowly ebbing away. The runner’s high becomes a distant memory. The thrill is gone.

Optimism fades. Despair invades. The questions bubble to the surface.

What have I done? Will I ever be back? What will it take?

Nothing works. Each step is awkward and trepidatious. Each step anticipates pain.

It wears on you. It grinds you down. It frays the nerves.

It is a prison. Your sentence is indefinite. There is no guarantee of parole.

Good behavior doesn’t hurt. But, there is no promise it will spring you. Days become weeks. Weeks roll into months.

The mind spins trying to find the smoking gun. What led to this could be one thing. It could be any number of things. It could be nothing at all.

Frustration becomes anger. The usual outlet for dealing with it is not available. You try something else.

Nothing compares. Everything else pales. There is no real solace to be found.

You throw money at it. You throw prayers to the universe at it. You throw whatever you can at it.

Still it lingers. Calling it an injury is a misnomer. It is a demon that has taken up residence.

It taunts you with moments of peace only to return when you attempt to do the one thing that makes you happy. It smiles evilly in the darkness as you try to get rid of it. It has you.

Running isn’t an option. Hiding isn’t an option. All that’s left to do is fight.

Use whatever is at your disposal. Explore other options. Seek other weapons.

Some days, the demon wins. Other days, you might find a glimmer of hope. The fight continues.

You stumble onto arcane spells and incantations. As silly as they seem, you try them. Something has to work.

Then, it happens. Slowly, imperceptibly, something changes. The demon’s grasp loosens.

Fearfully, you take a few strides. It feels foreign. It feels odd.

But, the demon doesn’t reappear. The pain is gone. The exorcism is complete.

You’re slower. You’re heavier. A few miles is all you can handle. Nevertheless, you are back.