All Things Shyne

100 Half-Marathons Blog

I walked my first half marathon in October 2015. It took three hours and fifty minutes to become hooked. Thirty-eight months later, I completed my 30 half-marathon. I think everyone should complete at least one half-marathon in their lifetime. It’s an accessible thrill you might find addicting.

Listen to the Whispers for an Easier Life


I'm very fortunate. Blessed, really. I landed on the curled end of a wrought iron planter stand. It punctured the bottom of my heel and, with the force of me dropping down onto it, curled it's way through the flesh and out through a hole it created just beneath my ankle bone.

Given the infinite possibilities of ways to land, I certainly would have preferred one of the zero injury options. Nonetheless, my podiatrist literally dropped his jaw after inspecting the injury. I cleared bone by 1 cm and my foot's tendon by 1 mm. At most, I'm a few weeks off from training. Given the infinite possibilities of a landing that punctures my foot in two places, I consider myself blessed.

Earlier that fateful Sunday afternoon, I'd admitted to my partner that I was unsuccessful in fully fighting off a cold. I'd taken immune-boosting supplements for three days prior. What I failed to do was carve out sufficient time for rest. I promised my partner that I'd spend the day resting in recognition of the need to do so. That's what I said.

What I did was head over to the local hardware store to pick up a couple plants and the materials to create a magnet attaching screen across the french double doors to my upstairs balcony. My reasoning was that the fresh air coming through the wide open balcony would certainly add to my healing while I lay in bed.

Before beginning the project, I went to water my thirsty plants. A split second after I closed the door behind me, I realized I forgot to unlock it. My keys, phone, dog and wallet were all inside, on the other side of the door. I was successful in climbing over the rail, maneuvering myself onto the adjacent roof, getting hold of the outside of the rails and lowering myself to within three feet of the ground. I was unsuccessful in missing the wrought iron planter I'd moved just fifteen minutes earlier after moving around the new and old plants.

Choosing rest would have forestalled this entire event. The scratchy throat was God's whisper to rest. The punctured foot was a raised voice. I followed doctor's orders and took the week off from work. I don't want the universe to scream at me.

Take my words of caution to heart. Listen to life's whispers.

See you on the path.

Rahbin Shyne