Sunday morning I woke up with one goal. Get a run in. Coach had put 50 minutes on my schedule but I was aiming for a good 70 minutes. Unfortunately everything worked against me. I took my new happy/don’t freak out pills, grabbed my english muffin and coffee to go sit on the deck and relax before starting my run and realized that it was HOT. The heat changed everything. I knew I had to go ahead and get out there and get this run in immediately or it was not going to happen. Thus the beginning of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad run.
By rushing out the door I did not let my medicines work their way through my body so I was still wobbly on my feet. The warning of dehydration caused by two of the pills rang clearly in my head but I did not have the desire to carry two bottles of water. And suddenly it did occur to me that the enormous amount of weight I have gained over the past few months of medicinal experimentation was going to make this a terrible, horrible, no good very bad run.
Still I went out. The first mile sucked but it always does so I tried to keep my head up. I could do this. No way I wanted to be the Negative Nancy that that brat Alexander was. I was determined to make this run work. By the second mile I had changed the rules. I was walking all up hills, sprinting the downhills and barely moving forward on the flats. This was indeed a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad run. But still, I was doing it.
By mile three, I was sure I would not make it to four. And by four I had already decided that coach was right – 50 minutes was plenty for a comeback run.
I quit running at fifty, switched my Runkeeper to walk and proceeded to have…you guessed it – a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad walk. But still, I was doing it.
That became my theme yesterday – but still I am doing it. And isn’t that all any of us can do. This is going to be a long comeback. It would be a long comeback just because of the time off. It is made worse by the weight gain and worse still by the complications of the medicines that have me often falling over. But still I keep going to get out there. I will work through this.
The past six months have been hell. There are definitely people who have it worse but really even as I think that, I remember the way people cringe when they hear our story. The way their eyes fill with tears and they always insist on hugging me. It has been a tough six months but we have, so far survived. I don’t know that the worst is behind us but I hope it is, so I run. And if that means I am going to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad run, I will learn to deal with that.