Looks like I have cancer, again. My response? Training for a half-marathon. I’m shooting for the Steamboat Half-Marathon which is June 4th. I’m well aware that I’m setting the bar high given the fact a PET Scan revealed that I have a suspicious lymph node near my left clavicle. My consult with a breast surgeon to explore removing it is not until March 28th. The surgery will follow. Chemo? Radiation? Probably on the horizon. Just not sure of the timing of treatment. In the meantime, I will run because running reminds me that I’m alive.
Today’s Post-Run Photo: 6 Miles and Happily Sweaty
Sweating, breathing hard, and burning muscles are all a tribute to the wonders of the human body. I lost sight of this during my first go around with cancer. The treatment left me weak and incapable of exercise. For the first time in my life, I felt like my body was dying. From the moment I finished that last round of chemotherapy, I committed to reclaim my health. It’s been a long and slow process and worth every challenging step along the way. As a matter of fact, I’m so fortunate to be able to “suffer” through exercise. I get to do this. Three years ago, it wasn’t an option.
Before cancer, I trained for events keeping my eye on the prize: the finish line. After cancer, I train for the sake of training, knowing that I may not get to the finish line. It’s about the journey, right? Damn right. A client of mine shared a story of a recent half-marathon she completed. While she was in mile three of the 13.1 mile course, she noticed someone holding a sign. It stated “Run the Mile You’re In”. We both commented on the perfect poignance of that statement. I’ve adopted it as my life mantra. “Run the Mile You’re In”.
So, for the next few weeks, I will be documenting my weekly long runs and my parallel cancer process. I may have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me.