When life kicks you in the knee...

Literally.

Failure is a huge part of life, it's something you learn more and more as you grow up. But it is extremely difficult to accept this concept. Especially when the cause of your failure isn't within your control.

I only started running less than a year ago, and though it was something I did regularly for months - injuries remained a myth to me.

Then came September, and I began seriously training for the Big Half. As a newby, I had no idea what I was getting myself into - but I listened to advice and I conducted thorough research. Covering 13 miles was going to be a challenge but nothing extraordinary.

By December I had reached 11 miles. I felt amazing, I was ahead of schedule and truly believed that I could take on anything. The feeling of runner's high was at it's all-time best, and I could already picture myself crossing the finish line in March.

Unfortunately, the turn of the year, or the beginning of term, brought faint signs of possible disasters. Illness and deadlines and getting back into the swing of university all hindered my progress. But the one sign I neglected to address was the pinch in the side of my left knee - I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

Of course, my ignorance lead to a huge spiral of events. The more I ran, the more this pinch burned, thus the less I could run. I hit rock bottom on a weekend in Edinburgh. Portobello beach is one of my favourite spots for cardio...but 10km in and my knee just collapsed. I remember feeling completely disillusioned. The world just fell to pieces around me - I couldn't walk another step. Fortunately, my uncle came to the rescue and I spent the rest of my stay on the sofa - icing my knee and calling up every physio in the book.

But with less than a month to go to the run, being diagnosed with ITBS was not ideal. My physio still had hope, and I attended as many sessions as possible - cross-training in between and aiming at two short runs a week.

My moment of realisation came a fortnight before the Big Half. Surrounded by laughing children, couples walking hand-in-hand, a clear blue sky and the sounds of birds chirping - I never thought I'd burst into tears in the middle of Regent's Park.

But I knew myself that my body was literally screaming at me to stop.

Accepting the fact that I would not be able to run in my first ever race was tough. But in hindsight, I am so glad I did it. I have turned my focus to other things now, and have realised there are some things you just can't control in life.

Who knows, maybe it happened for a reason.

All I know is that when I start up again in May, I will make sure to listen to my body - and address everything it tells me, even the little pinches.