Last night I saw Snow Patrol at Madison Square Garden's Theatre - the first concert I've been to that had actual seating since 2000 when I saw Christina Aguilera and Hanson in the same weekend, and the first popular concert I've been to since... well, Christina Aguilera.

As much as I love a smaller club setting much like the ones in which I've seen Hanson in the past few years, there was something much more... ethereal about being one in a massive crowd, sound booming through the hall and through me... watching the band completely lose control of their bodies as the music inhabits them. Fellow fans around me completely shook free of their inhibitions and moved so affectedly with the beat - Jaymie and I giggled at them but as I sat back and let everything soak in I so admired their ability to fall in sync with the band and just... feel them pulsing through the air.

And then as I continued to watch and listen, I saw love. Right there, exploding on stage. The deepest love - passion - for music and art and expression. I imagined this band's journey from formation and anonymity to playing adoring crowds across countries, night after night. Just... living a dream.

I came out of that theater feeling like a new person, refreshed and inspired. I wanted to run again and I wanted to feel the pavement under my feet and I wanted to push through all my doubts and muscle soreness and know that I finished strong.

Today - the warmest of days - the air smelled like freshness and springtime and new beginnings, the streets were brimming with people unburdened by winter wear, and I headed out for my run feeling completely unpressured and renewed. But my knees had already made the decision for me and even as I pushed myself down to Prospect Park, I knew I couldn't make it all the way around. I ended up walking most of the way back, trying to start running a few times only to stop from the pain.

And as I walked down each block that over the past two and a half months I've only passed in runs, I started to feel helpless and angry - like I've lost something. This all built up into a sense of failure and loss of my vitality, as well as disappointment that I've worked so hard only to be sidelined by my physical limitations when I'm so close to the race... that when I got home I dropped my shoulders and just cried.

I feel better now, but am still very sad. While it will be good to now have time to work on other projects, I really do feel robbed of something. When can I run again? How will it fit into my life then? I refuse to let it fall low on my priorities again.

I guess I should sleep on it and start thinking about what to do to fill my time now...