It's been a long time since I felt like writing something. This will probably wind up all garbled and out of sorts but so be it.
So after last year's marathon training, I was looking forward to running the 2012 NYC Marathon. Yet that bitch, Hurricane Sandy, had other plans. I remember getting the phone call telling me to go sit in my car (our neighborhood was still without power) and listen to the news. I ran out and turned on the radio to hear that the marathon had been cancelled. My initial reaction was immediate crying. I had worked SO hard because I had intended to make that marathon my very last 26.2 miles and I wanted to go out with a time I could be proud of. Selfish reaction - maybe so but I don't think that meant I didn't feel for what people were going through. I just couldn't believe that all my hard work and excitement was just DONE. In an instant.
After that, I backed off running. Happens every year. It's like the marathon kicks off my winter hibernation mode. I worked out but the sneakers never hit the pavement.
Then my appendix had some plans for me. That took me out of working out altogether. It also hit around the time that I actually decide I want to start running again.
Eventually, I was given medical clearance to start running again. That would be great to hear normally but all it really did was pile on the anxiety. Here's what some of you don't know -
I started running only a few years ago. I was the kid who, although athletic, would pretend that I ran the full mile in gym when in reality I walked one lap. I was also the kid who walked off the varsity softball team when we were told to start running laps. I've always been a walker - running scares the shit out of me. But a few years ago, I went to cheer on a good friend who was running her first NYC Marathon. I had never given two shits about that marathon or any other but I do give a shit about supporting my people so I was going. I spent that day filled with emotion (and sangria) - I cried watching all the runners go by and I cried watching the spectators cheer. I cried because our first cheer zone was directly across from Memorial Sloane Kettering, I cried when the father of a child with a brain tumor talked to Chris.
By the next morning I had decided that I would run the marathon the next year. Clearly I'm insane. I hooked up with The Tug McGraw Foundation and received a spot on Team McGraw. I wanted to run for a reason and any cause that supports brain tumor awareness, programs, research, etc. gets my vote. Since then I have trained for and run for this team the last few years. My long runs are always in my team shirt and people always stop me to ask about it.
What strangers and most of you don't know much of is that 7 years ago Chris was diagnosed with a tumor on his brain stem. Inoperable. Scary words to hear when you just gave birth to your second child. After months of aggressive treatment, the tumor shrunk and became stable. For a few years life went on as usual. Although we always knew the tumor was still there, lots of times it wasn't even thought about or discussed. Until the tumor decided to become active again. More chemo, more Avastin. Then a change in chemo since the kind he was on wasn't doing the job.
It's now been 20 months of non-stop treatment. Every 2 months another MRI which shows stability however Chris continues a slow decline. This coming week he starts another round of chemo (he's been off chemo but still on Avastin for a few months). He's tired. I'm tired. I'm also angry. Very. I fucking hate brain tumors. I hate everything about them.
So this year, I will be running my last 26.2 through the boroughs. I don't know how I'm going to fit in all the miles now that I have taken over all household responsibilities but I will figure it out. Because that's what I do. Figure out how to fucking maintain some sense of normalcy. I will train angry and hopefully that will motivate me to keep moving despite the ridiculous amount of miles, the lack of time, the tumor that I want to rip out. I will continue to ask people to donate - and I don't care if it annoys people. Try having a brain tumor enter your life to learn what annoying is.
I will write as therapy. I will write for those of you who are interested in reading. I will write to keep me accountable for the training.
