The bitter taste of disappointment

It started sharp, but quiet. It was nagging for a few days, but became worse and impossible to ignore by Tuesday. When I couldn't make it to the institute without sitting down on a bench for a minute, I realized that I had to face the facts. I have injured my foot, and its severe enough that I won't be running the marathon.

Of course denial was my first choice. I didn't want to say it out loud, so I didn't. I hoped I would wake up one morning and be fine, but that isn't how it worked out. Saying the words out loud, and now writing them down, is like admitting that its true.

So far I've heard:

Everything happens for a reason.
There will be another marathon.
Its not the end of the world.
You just need to move on.

Right now, that doesn't make me feel any better. I set my sights on a goal. I determined to do something. I devoted hours a week for months preparing. 4 weeks before the race I get hurt. I know it isn't the end of the world. I understand what people are saying, but right now I feel like I have the right to be sad. I know I'll get over it, but I'm mourning the death of a dream right now and it isn't feeling very good.