I just finished my first outside run in 46 weeks. I ran 5
miles and it was brutal. I finished in roughly 2 minutes slower than my normal
pace. I should be impressed, but I’m not. I feel defeated.
I actually started writing this blog post in my head during
the first two miles. I deviated from my usual route when I hit two miles to
keep myself closer to home, should I need to stop before I reached my 5 mile
goal. I felt like crap. So much of my running originates in my head. Today, my
body overrode that confidence. My joints were affected by my chemo and continue
to ache, although I’ve been told that it will continue improve over the next
few months (and it has, since it was at its worst in October). I felt as though
I had weights on my ankles. Every step was too much effort. I hate running when
I feel like this. Crap.
I’ve been running
since last November, usually 5 miles or less, on the “dreadmill”. Anyone who is
a regular runner knows that treadmill running and outdoor running (or track
running), are completely different animals. Today, I was reminded of how very
different they are.
At mile two a song came on my iPod that should have inspired
me. Ya know, one of those songs that reminds you that you’re invincible and you
can do anything…well, it failed me. I was tired and cursed every single step. I
almost gave up. I considered walking home and calling it a day, but I didn’t. I
hate when I give up on myself, so I just kept on going.
I’m not going to lie, I think that a marathon this year may
be unattainable. I’m just not convinced that I can even accomplish the 20K I’m
considering for the first weekend in May. I hate this lack of self confidence.
I’m also carrying an additional 10 pounds over where I was this time last year.
(I was up 16 pounds from my normal weight and have managed to shed 6 since last
August. I suppose that’s something.) I don’t mean to sound like I’m
complaining, but this is my reality today.
I should probably back up a little here and mention why it
has taken me so long to get back outside for a run. I’ll let you in on a little
secret. I’m scared. I’m scared that something might happen while I’m away from
my home. I’m scared that I’ll pass out; have an anxiety attack; that at any
moment my cancer will show up and completely shut down the machine that is me.
I’m scared of what might happen, even now that I’ve made it past the surgery
and chemo and seem to be fine in the eyes of those around me. My doctor tells
me that everything looks great. I have to trust her that the odds are that I’m
going to be free of cancer for the rest of my life, but in my head, there is
that continuing possibility. What if the chemo didn’t get it all (if it was
ever anywhere but in my breast in the first place)? I don’t want to live in
fear.
With as much confidence and positivity as I tend to project,
the reality is that I’m not always happy and positive. Sometimes, I’m reminded
of what I went through and how maybe I didn’t really process it all as I should
have. Maybe I just ignored that which scared me.
So, back to today’s run. It sucked, but I did it. I have a
10K (6.2 miles) for the American Cancer Society next Saturday morning. It’ll
probably suck too, but not as much as today did. Is it possible that I was
expecting too much of myself today? Ya, probably, but that’s ok. A bigger
failure would have been to have not even stepped outside at all.
Perhaps today was a reminder that instead of worrying about
what might happen, go out and just do it. If something does go wrong, be prepared.
If it goes according to plan, then you’ve conquered today’s fear. Just gotta
remember what I went through and dig deep for that little push…one…more…mile….
