When you are a runner, and you become injured, it's like time stands still for you and speeds up for the runners around you all at the same time. It is hard to even imagine how you'll get through all of the time it takes to heal, getting through a day, a week, several weeks, months . . . But as you stay injured, slowly, painfully (usually more figuratively than literally) you start to notice how other people are running race after race, are training for marathons (or further), without injury, and are setting new PRs left and right. It is like the running community takes off in warp speed, leaving you and your injury in the dust.
This injury stunk.
I have to say, having now been injured more often than not and realizing I have much bigger fish to fry with how much my body hates not only running, but most of the physical activities I like to do, I am coming to peace with it. It's my journey. The time it takes is the time it takes. My marathon will be there, it wasn't there last year or this year, maybe it will be next year, maybe it will be in five years. I can choose to spend my healing time doing things to make me stronger and better than ever, instead of just sinking in to frustration and sadness.
Time spent with an injury is introspective time, at least for me. I constantly question my motives, and while I never questioned if I was tough enough to train for, and run, a marathon, I often question my ability to withstand the difficulties of not training.
Ah, time. You fickle beast.