This week has been tough. I think I’m getting impatient. The end of my 8 cycles of chemo nears so I’m just ready to be done!
I was inspired by the beautiful weather yesterday, so I decided to go for it with the run/walk. A quarter-mile into my journey I realize that the cool air, though much warmer than it has been recently, was still really rough on my nose/throat. It’s the strangest feeling. It’s 50° outside and it feels like I’m breathing in Arctic ice winds. It hurts. It makes me feel like I have athsma. My hands went numb. Then my feet. Crap, I thought. I felt nervous. And a little scared. I was jogging on a loop around my neighborhood and I was getting close to the halfway point, so there was really no turning back. I thought about how silly it would be to call someone to come and get me. Pride won out. So, forward I went. Every step was awful. I cried a little bit, to be honest.
I would like to tell you that I got home and felt great. Invigorated. Proud of myself. In reality, I felt sick. Really sick. I overdid it. I asked too much of my body. And it frustrated me greatly. A little over a mile and half did me in. Dammit. It sounds ridiculous! I don’t want that. I don’t want to be limited by this anymore. I want my body and it’s energy back.
I collapsed on my couch, feeling nauseous and defeated. 24 hours later, I’m still not fully recovered. I feel all prickly and weird and sick. And I’m torn, emotionally. I want to kick this thing so hard in the ass. I want to stand up to cancer and fight it down into the dirt. I want to believe that nothing can get in my way. I’m supposed to be Wonder Woman, right?
But part of strength and wisdom is knowing your limits. Part of confidence is having the humility to grasp that you are vulnerable, imperfect and, in my case, not in top athletic condition.
My lessons so far have primarily been about discovering my strength, my ability to weather this awful storm, to march forward, to shoulder a heavy burden and somehow keep going. Frankly, I’ve amazed myself on more than a few occasions in little ways like keeping my head in the game through a three hour meeting while suppressing the urge to vomit. Or getting out of bed to spend time with my kiddo.
But yesterday, even though I completed my goal, I bumped up against a limit. A wall. I don’t like it. It’s in my freaking way and I have shit to do. But it’s there. That’s reality.
And I’m still me. I’m still a warrior. God is still on His throne. Even if I have to limp around the wall instead of leap gracefully over it.