6 Week Sentence, No Option of Bail

(Beware - less informative and more self-pitying post ahead)

For 28 years, I have been a runner.  That has been a significant part of my identity.  True, there have been years I now refer to as "rest" years.  And inertia has been a powerful force the entire time.  I learned a long time ago that I need someone waiting for me to ensure that I don't roll over and go back to sleep.  For that reason, I run with running clubs or find regular running partners to hold me accountable.  I intentionally seek out doctors who will understand the relative damage to my health, particularly mental health, if they ever tell me not to run for a period of time.  My mental health requires it - running is, for me, the most powerful and effective antidepressant and ADD medication.

I write all of this because I am wallowing today.  I'm feeling envious of everyone outside running.  This is the season when I should be pulling out my running hats, long running tights, my half-zip long-sleeve running tops, my Nike gloves and higher wool running socks.  I was supposed to run the Richmond Half on November 11 with my friend/neighbor/current running buddy Wilmarie.  Even after my diagnosis, I was confident that I would be able to run it because we did not expect surgery to be scheduled until the end of the month.  Instead, I had to email them to beg for a deferral even thought I was past the deferral deadline.  Nonetheless, I LOVED seeing Wilmarie's photo of herself posing with a picture of me at the Richmond Half. 

I have always feared most any injuries or illnesses that prevent me from running.  My doctors instructed me not to run for at least 6 weeks after my mastectomy.  I have had to stop running before for a longer period of time.  Because of my miscarriages (which were unexplained after a battery of tests), I did not run during my pregnancies out of an abundance of caution and doctors' orders.  It bothered me then, but this feels much worse.  I suspect that's because the pregnancies were a happy productive time with an exceptional reward at the end.  Now, although healing is a certainly a reward, this is not exactly a process anyone wants to go through.

Therefore, I am counting down the days until December 19th.  We have a little chalkboard block on the dining table that is counting down the days until Christmas.  I'm thinking of adding another to count down until my 6 week mark.  I hope to see you out there soon.

(The photo above was from my last pre-surgery run!  Wilmarie present but not pictured)