On the Road Again...

I recently started running again. Not because I wanted to prove any stubborn point, but because I deem it my therapy...my antidepressant. The last few years have proven to be trying and for whatever reason, running seems to diminish any depression that may be lurking in the nether regions of my mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm one of those "glass is half full" types--I believe with every ounce of being that I am completely and totally blessed beyond recognition. My family is sincere, kind, generous, funny like no other--they keep me grounded when my head gets a tad large and remind me of my worth when I've forgotten. They are the light that shines brightest in my life and if I live to be 100 years old, I'll never find the proper words of gratitude to express to God for the gift of them! Having said all of that, I still harbor hidden depression--the loss of my father...a diagnosis of cancer...the battle afterward...the fact that my body will never be the same...the feeling of not being "enough."

When I run, these encumberences cease to exist. Its the most delicate yet least complicated relationship I have--I am completely zen when running. The road asks nothing of me yet, here I give it everything I have several days/week. When I'm stretching pre-run, all of those worries pulse through my veins-reminding me that they'll be there when I return to this very place. And that's okay--life's difficulties don't just disappear because you will them to. They are sometimes, not so subtle reminders that we were never guaranteed a straight shot--a road sans bumps or curves. And really, what fun would that be anyway. ;) But on my mind at that very moment before I take to the streets, is not the curves or bumps that I may or may not encounter during the week, but the inclines, trails and traffic that I will inevitably traverse during the next hour or so when I am at peace...when I am running.

Cancer's a bitch no matter which type, stage, outlook, etc. When you are finally forced to check yes in the "cancer box" on a health questionaire, you realize you belong to one of the least desirable clubs around. For me, cancer has been just that...a bitch! In fact, that's what I named my little silver dollar sized tumor..."bitch." I see nothing wrong with this either. I was diagnosed 1/14/2010 with cervical cancer and every week after that, was more difficult than the last. Finally, as the date of my surgery neared, I realized that I needed to make peace with a few things that had been left untended. One, was I really at peace with losing so many internal parts of myself? Was chemotherapy and or radiation a better option? Would I be ready? Would I be regretful? Would I be angry? Would I be determined or just indifferent? I had no idea what to expect from anything let alone myself. But I knew one thing to be true...after all was said and done, I'd be ready to take out my frustrations/pain/anxiety/disappointment...on that road again! This was the same road I'd pummelled for months after my Dad died. The same road that saw me through my anxiety; softened my days after so many sleepless nights. This road allowed me to find a steady strength that I'd previously determined was all but forgotten. This road did not judge me nor did it find fault in any of the choices I'd made. This road knows how to make me feel important and powerful. This road would be just as ready for me as I was for it. a very unspoken, quiet relationship. I start slowly and steadily. This road is predictable and trustworthy--I know where the cracks and uneveness are. I know where to look for cross-traffic and busted light signals. I know where to expect possible wildlife and their droppings. Always predictable...steadfast...reliable. So unlike the drama life unveils. The best confidant a person could have. Selflessly, the road expects nothing of me but to give it a little time and energy. In return, I get so much more-I get peace, quiet, relief, strength, will, and determination to fight for another day...on another road.

I'm starting oh so very slowly. I have to remind myself that only 9 weeks ago, I was essentially cut in half and gutted like a fish. My body will never be exactly the same. I have muscles that may never reconnect, forcing me to work twice as hard. And all of this is fine with me because...I am on that road again! I am back with my therapist, my antidepressant, my scapegoat, my friend. I am up and I am running. :)