Boy, do I miss running....
I miss lacing up, heading out and taking in the surroundings with all my senses. I miss feeling the strength in my legs to carry me miles away from trouble and loneliness. I miss the completeness in my soul after carving out time for just me and my thoughts.
My life is constantly changing and never boring and maybe that is what I miss the most about running; the consistency and knowing it was there waiting for me. There are times when I beat myself up and tell myself that I am not a real runner because I lack the dedication that others do. I am not waking at 4 a.m. so I can hammer out a few miles before heading into work. I was logging 20+ mile weeks in the spring and I have managed to only eke out 3 miles here and 3 miles there as of late.
It isn't only my body that misses running, but my soul. I ache when I see others on the trail or going through old photos I snapped with my phone while pounding the pavement. My mind, body and soul are grieving over the loss of running. However this is a love that can be rekindled. I intend to woo my feet with a new pair of shoes and caress my body with new clothes.
Even if I am not married to running, I certainly intend to win back that love. It will be a love affair to end all others.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Friday Night in the ICU
Friday, January 4, 2013 and I am in the family waiting area of Blodgett Hospital. Like many, I anticipated the coming new year with the hope that I would accomplish goals and overcome some of the obstacles I had faced the previous year. Who knew that New Year's Day would usher in the worst day of my life to date.
I called my mom on Sunday, December 30 to see how she was feeling because she had been saddled with a bothersome cough since the 14th. Christmas Eve she had complained of being nauseous and although my mom has never enjoyed shopping, I was surprised to learn that my sister had to do her Christmas shopping. That Sunday Mom was on her way to the casino and assured me she was fine and we talked about how tired I had been lately and that my bloodwork indicated that I again needed an increase in my medication.
I had no idea on New Year's Eve when the boys and I were watching a "Jaws" marathon and sending countelss text messages, that my mom was surging toward disaster. I awoke the morning of January 1 with the determination to take better control of my health and getting the house in order. I watched a movie while sipping coffee and finally made the move off the couch to shower and grab lunch. It was soon after I got out of the shower that my phone rang. It was Mom and Dad's house but I let it ring until I was ready to answer. I thought it was Mom asking what the boys and I were doing for the day and I would call in a matter of minutes.
I did return the call in a couple of minutes to Lisa answering breathlessly to tell me that she thought Mom had had a stroke. I know I screamed in the phone. The kids ran out of their rooms to see why I was in hysterics. Mom? She had to be mistaken. Mom is the healthy one. Mom is the one who always powers through illness. Mom is the one who has been exposed to chicken pox countless times and has never been afflicted. Dad is the one who has repeatedly been rushed to the ER. Dad is the one who couldn't make the 3000 mile trip to San Diego to see Jonny get married. Not Mom.
So here I am on a Friday night at the hospital with my mom unresponsive. She has bacterial meningitis and we pray everyday that there will be a sign of imporovement. My boys adore their grandma and I have become closer to Mom in the last few months. When I arrived Wednesday it was to hear my sister having to explain to me that the doctor was giving Mom less than 50 percent chance of surviving. I sobbed. I can't imagine losing Mom. I don't want to envision Mother's Day without her. I refuse to give up and think I will never feel her warm hug or hear her infectious laugh.
I continue to pray, I continue to hope and I will continue to have faith that Mom's strength courage and stubborness will see her through this.
I called my mom on Sunday, December 30 to see how she was feeling because she had been saddled with a bothersome cough since the 14th. Christmas Eve she had complained of being nauseous and although my mom has never enjoyed shopping, I was surprised to learn that my sister had to do her Christmas shopping. That Sunday Mom was on her way to the casino and assured me she was fine and we talked about how tired I had been lately and that my bloodwork indicated that I again needed an increase in my medication.
I had no idea on New Year's Eve when the boys and I were watching a "Jaws" marathon and sending countelss text messages, that my mom was surging toward disaster. I awoke the morning of January 1 with the determination to take better control of my health and getting the house in order. I watched a movie while sipping coffee and finally made the move off the couch to shower and grab lunch. It was soon after I got out of the shower that my phone rang. It was Mom and Dad's house but I let it ring until I was ready to answer. I thought it was Mom asking what the boys and I were doing for the day and I would call in a matter of minutes.
I did return the call in a couple of minutes to Lisa answering breathlessly to tell me that she thought Mom had had a stroke. I know I screamed in the phone. The kids ran out of their rooms to see why I was in hysterics. Mom? She had to be mistaken. Mom is the healthy one. Mom is the one who always powers through illness. Mom is the one who has been exposed to chicken pox countless times and has never been afflicted. Dad is the one who has repeatedly been rushed to the ER. Dad is the one who couldn't make the 3000 mile trip to San Diego to see Jonny get married. Not Mom.
So here I am on a Friday night at the hospital with my mom unresponsive. She has bacterial meningitis and we pray everyday that there will be a sign of imporovement. My boys adore their grandma and I have become closer to Mom in the last few months. When I arrived Wednesday it was to hear my sister having to explain to me that the doctor was giving Mom less than 50 percent chance of surviving. I sobbed. I can't imagine losing Mom. I don't want to envision Mother's Day without her. I refuse to give up and think I will never feel her warm hug or hear her infectious laugh.
I continue to pray, I continue to hope and I will continue to have faith that Mom's strength courage and stubborness will see her through this.
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