Today is the Hobble Creek Half Marathon... my favorite race. I anxiously watched the clock on April 30th, waiting for midnight on May 1st to register online and secure my spot. Last year the race filled up in less than 2 days. This year it filled up in less than 10 hours. I was so excited to run HC and my goal was to PR and get sub 2 (my time last year was 2:05.) Here is my post from last year's race.
When I woke up this morning, my first thought was "I should be at mile 6 right now, almost halfway done." Instead, my good friend Heidi, is running in my place. I found this e-mail from her today:
I just made a white and purple ribbon to pin onto my bib tomorrow. White for lung cancer, purple for surviving, or as I like to think of it, kicking it in the butt. I'll get you your sub 2:00.
And she did. She came in at 1:56 despite dealing with GI issues. She's a rockstar. (Thanks so much, Heidi! Means more than you will ever know.) Reading her e-mail this morning made me bawl. One, because I was so touched by her doing this for me, and two, because I was sad it wasn't me. I don't expect many of you to get this. If you're not a runner, it's hard to understand. Why would someone want to pay to run 13 miles? or 26? And all the training. The long runs. Speed workouts. Hills. (I could spend a whole post on that, and maybe I will sometime, but not today.) My point is, I'm sad. Very sad. It's hard to even talk about it without getting teary-eyed. Running, exercise, it has become apart of me. It's my therapy. Some people take Xanax, I run (and do Body Combat!) I love how I feel when I sweat a little every day. And to not be able to do that the way I used to kills me. I didn't get to run even one race this year! It is painful, realizing my body is so far away from where it was a year ago, and that I might never be at that level (or better) again. Jake tried to remind me that I just had surgery 2 months ago, but I guess I just thought by 2 months I would be back to my normal self. A few days ago I had a goal to run at a 10 min/mile pace for 5 minutes. That's not that fast, or that long. I thought for sure I could push myself long enough to get to my goal. I cranked up the speed and realized 6.0 was too fast, so went down to 5.8 and couldn't even keep it up for two minutes. I felt like I was sucking air. My lungs couldn't handle it. I'm worried my lungs will never be the same again (silly to say, because obviously they will never be the same with nearly 40% of my lungs gone.) I guess I just thought I would defy the odds and be the one person who would bounce back quickly and be better than I was before. Reality is quickly sinking in.
Sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. I'm human, though, and have hard days.
Today is a hard day.
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