the donkey trot

November 18, 2016

At the start of a training run, I have a goal.  I set the distance, and usually I decide I will run it at my normal pace…an 8:30 minute mile.  Not the fastest, but I can run like a sturdy donkey at this speed (smile)…I know my body can keep on keeping on if I keep this pace.  So I begin.  But something happens in the first mile or two as my muscles get cranking (I like to just start running and I always nix any warm up).  I think I need to quit.  I think maybe my lungs aren’t up for it and “why does it feel so much harder today?!” But I tell myself, “just a little longer.  Don’t stop yet.”  Because I know what is coming.  I will break through that wall, my body will pace itself and mile three goal could turn into mile five.  I will get in a steady rhythm of breathing and my legs will find their stride as they take me yard after yard down the road.  I love that feeling, like I could run for days and come back home, tired but soul refreshed as I listen to praise music and enjoy the beauty that God as gifted me with all around. 

So, I think I am in the first 400 yard stretch.  We are two weeks into IV’s and it takes my breath away that we have only come that far.  I am not sure I can do it.  My body is so tired, my veins are not healed before I am back in for another treatment.   I am gasping for air but I am only 400 yards into my three mile race!  I know we can do it- we have to do it.  We will do the only thing we can do…take another step.  We will take each miserable, terrible step filled with desire to turn back around and side-step the other runners.  I know they are out there…I know a few of them myself.  We are all in a race that we didn’t sign up for and each one is desperate to find a way out.  If only we could cross the finish line without all the painful miles we will have to show for it.  If only our coach could tell us definitively that all these miles will prove worth it because the finish line is really there- complete healing.  But each “coach” defines victory a different way, and most would call remission a “victory.”  But it is only a victory for how long? A month?  A year?  Two?  Until the race is back on and you didn’t even know you were running again.  And what about those of us who run our race and drag others along with us?  Willing them to have the strength to keep up- our children, our family, our loved ones too precious to leave behind. 

Yes, we will run this race.  It is worth every step forward, because it is one more step you are choosing not to take backward.  It is sometimes more important to do something to keep you in the FIGHT than it is to make sure that you are moving forward.  We must not give up hope, and not let apathy become a companion.  We cannot see the finish line when we are not even clocked in at mile one yet.  But that doesn’t mean the finish line isn’t there.  Keep on keeping on.  One step at a time.

October 5, 2009
My man and I after the Portland marathon.  He is the unsung hero in much of my story, past and present.  He was so supportive of all the hours I spent training (he even rode my pink bike beside me on multiple long runs, LOL) and was so sweet on race day! Thanks, baby- I am so blessed by you.