Amelia Boone

Wouldn’t it be so lovely if it was?

Avulsed bone fragments who am I

Is it bad to want to know less?

Am I really just delaying grief?

As the nurse brought in my breakfast at 7:30 a.m., I realized I hadn’t left my hospital bed in a week: I had officially taken up residence on a 36 x

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m following New York Times updates regarding the horrific killing 1 of Alex Pretti by a group of ICE agents.

In flipping through an old notebook the other day, I found a chicken scratch across a page: I'm not sure when or why I wrote it, but like most serendipitous things in life, I rediscovered it at…

(and other lies I've believed)

I would have canceled the appointment but I have extreme guilt about canceling on doctors last minute.

(Hint: it's what it took to get here)

“What do you want?”

I sat cross-legged in the corner of the large sectional couch, eyes darting around to the six other women who sat in a circle in the living room with me.

For better or worse, the past decade plus of my life has been measure in racing seasons. 2024 was the first year since I ran my first race in 2011 that I haven’t gotten to a start line, let alone a…

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I admitted to my physical therapist the other day, “but I wish this was a stress fracture.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how multiple things can be true at once: how many things are actually “ands” instead of “buts”.

“We won’t need to file Schedule C anymore after this year,” I told my accountant this winter, “I’m no longer getting any sponsor money.”

I walked into a completely empty apartment in Golden, Colorado.

In June 2000, six months after being discharged from the pediatric ward at Emanuel Hospital, my treatment team officially declared me recovered, complete with a paper certificate (I kid you not).

This past week, I was bopping along on a weekday run down my familiar dirt path, jamming out to the best of Sunny Day Real Estate (hello teenage emo years!)

I fought back tears and growing panic as I said to my therapist, “ok so I know it’s a super low risk but my fear is that I will be one of those few people who gets that rare side effect and it will…

The other day, my dental hygienist made small talk as she cleaned my teeth: “so, do you have any kids?”

And other things I've found to be all wrong about bone injuries

A week after my stress fracture diagnosis, I crutched around Leadville 100, putting on a brave face (ok, failing but trying).

My dad's 40th birthday is emblazoned into my brain: the black decorations, the cake napkins that read "over the hill," the tombstone cake topper, the constant jokes that he was officially old.

An hour after I arrived at the residential treatment facility in Carlsbad, I asked a staff member where the restroom was.

The other week I started writing about the feelings that came with my most recent stress fracture.

In February of this past year, I had a moment of panic.

In a journal entry from December 2018, I asked myself: “Can I be an athlete AND be in recovery from an eating disorder?”

It’s been a year since I was discharged from Opal Food and Body after entering intensive eating disorder treatment for my third and hopefully last time.

As I chatted with a friend on FaceTime the other week, I made the joke: “I dunno…maybe the silver lining of this pandemic is it will cure me of my e

When I was 6 years old, if I couldn’t get to sleep by 7:30pm, I would start crying hysterically.

On paper, 2019 probably looks like a rough year for me.

Running Big’s Backyard Ultra was a gamble for me: it’s not exactly an easy race to return to as my first ultra in over a year since injury, undergoi

I was a colicky baby.

September is a month that brings up a lot of feelings for me.

(Content warning: This post contains my thoughts and feelings around my body and pictures of me.

In March, after sustaining my fourth stress fracture in the past three years, I wrote that it was time to take a step back and re-evaluate – to stop

When I first started swimming, I couldn’t understand why it was so hard.

Several months ago, I had a long conversation with one of my best friends from law school.

My training log entry the day before the 2018 Barkley Marathons read: “Once that cigarette is lit, I’m going to race my little brains out.

Several months ago, I promised that I would share my return to running logs for those interested, not thinking that anyone would actually want to se

I’ve talked a lot how I do a lot of my runs to a single song on repeat – past favorites include everything from Smashing Pumpkin’s “Tonight Tonight”

Someone once asked me what I thought was the one marker of a successful person: I answered with “the ability to pivot.”

While it’s not something I’m exactly proud of, if there’s one thing I’ve become well-versed in this past year and a half, it’s been dealing with inj

I feared my return to racing, and I faced that fear.

Fear.

On April 26th of this year, a few days after the whole “broken femur” thing started, I picked up a copy of Cheryl Strayed’s book “Brave Enough.”

It has been almost two months since I received the ok to cast the crutches to the curb.Two months since I re-entered the world of bipedalism after t

For anyone who has ever signed up for a race via Ultra Signup, you are probably familiar with the most dreaded of features – a listing that displays

It’s been 6 weeks since that fateful run where lightning bolts shot down my leg.