On my Feet

It's been a while since I updated here. I guess that means things are kinda-sorta normal. It's a new normal, I suppose. I feel fine. Really fine. I'm fully recovered from my surgeries and am so much more comfortable now. I may need some "touching up" in a couple of months in the form of fat grafting. This is where the surgeon liposuctions fat from one part of my body and uses it to shape up the breast area. Sounds pretty sweet, huh? Especially since I've put on 10 pounds since my diagnosis. However, I'm kind of on the fence about it, and feel like I need to learn more. It's nice that I don't have to recover from something right now, and I'm not eager for that again.

My monthly ovarian suppression injections are going just fine (there's that word again). No bothersome side effects. I will begin the aromatase inhibitors next week.

Meantime, I'm exercising more now. Running is coming back slower than I would like, and I've started to incorporate some strength training. It's an odd feeling to be working my pectoral muscles now that they've been displaced by the implants. I'm just trying to take it slowly.

Me on December 6, 2014 after running the Rehoboth Beach Marathon

I like to think I have a pretty good attitude about this whole thing. In general, I feel like I've gotten off easy, given that it appears the cancer was localized, and I won't have chemo or radiation. But I would lie if I said I'm always looking at the silver lining. Last year in December, I ran a marathon in Rehoboth Beach. It was my first marathon in 6 years and was a wonderful experience. I was in great shape, and while my time wasn't as fast as it used to be, I felt really strong. The race itself was great--friendly, well-organized, not too big, beautifully scenic. So, when registration for the 2015 race opened on New Years Eve last year, I signed up. Once I was diagnosed and planned my surgeries, I was okay with the fact that I wouldn't run it this year. But as the date got closer, I was reading everybody's updates on the race's Facebook page. Such positive energy and nervous excitement, and I felt left out and let down. It's hard to accept that I was supposed to happily be running 26.2 miles, and I am now only doing 3 miles at a time and that's with walk breaks. I know that I will eventually work back up to where I was last year, but it does seem harder and slower  now, probably just because I'm older than I used to be, and maybe because I'm 10 pounds heavier. I think my running friends will understand and empathize.

I started running about 12 years ago, as a way to improve my fitness and ease some anxieties I was experiencing. Running was a savior for me. There have been times when I've lost motivation and took breaks from it. But I always felt like something was missing. When I returned, it was like going back to my best friend. When I run with friends, we bond and share things that wouldn't otherwise come up in conversation. When I run alone, I bond with myself, as a form of meditation. Without it, the anxieties are free to creep back in.

So, I know that part of my healing process has to include running. And I know that I need to be patient with myself, which isn't always easy for me. But the act of putting one foot in front of the other, finding that rhythm in my stride and my breath, watching the pavement pass under my feet, feeling the cool clean air in my lungs, taking in the views that rush by too quickly in a car... all of these sensations breathe life into me and soothe my soul to its core. Not every run is easy or even enjoyable, but there has never been a time that I'm sorry to be out there and sorry to have added more mileage to my body. And I'm grateful that despite the challenges of the last 6 months, I am on my feet.