Sunday, February 10, 2013

Start a blog miss a run

Isn’t that just the way. Had to go into work and get a little grocery shopping done. By the time those chores were done I was painfully exhausted. Ugh, I hate when I get dropped like that. Timing couldn’t be worse. Here I am trying to write a motivational, everyone can do it blog… And I get sidelined.

I skipped my Saturday run. It was just a 2 miler, and I have a 4 miler on Sunday, today. So I don’t feel like a total slacker. I will do the 4 miles, that is the trade off for missing the 2. I have to remind myself you can’t take the day off from cancer.

I am going to Seattle this week to see the Rheumatologist. Hopefully we can get a handle on this, the time between bad days is getting shorter. There is a part of me that is excited to get a handle on this. Then there is the part that is a bit nervous about they won’t be able to help. I need to get my head around this, and accept even if it doesn’t work I need to suck it up. I will keep running.

1 in 2 men will get cancer in their lifetime. That means one of my boys. How do I choose?

1 in 3 women. Got one of my sisters, and odds are it will get at least one of my daughters.

This is not acceptable to me. I will not take it lying down, or sitting on my butt. I don’t know why anyone would want to. My children deserve the very best and a world without cancer is the best.

That worked. I got my 4 miles in, ran the whole way too. That is huge for me, think that is the furthest I have run ever without a walk break. I need to get on the yoga, try to loosen and strengthen all those muscles that like to tighten up on me.

Billy is my bra. Sounds funny I know, don’t know that he understood the compliment either. When I think support, that one item above all that gives me the support and lift I need. It would be my bra. Because let’s face it, without it we are talking muscle pulls the kind you can’t stretch out. After all night of listening to me moan and groan, whimpering because stuff was achy. He got up the morning and pushed me out the door. He made it ok for me to go run. In the past he wanted me to take it easy, not hurt myself. It really seems he understands that running makes me feel better, even if it is just in my head. He supports me getting out there and doing it. Even if it means more whimpering at night, or a minor hamstring pull. He is there to be my Jiminy Cricket and push me out the door. I love him for that. So he is my bra, maybe not the greatest compliment to some, but to a runner wannabe like me… it is the biggest one I got.

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