Where you running to?

I just took up running again. I’ve not been for a run in many months. I’ve been stuck.

Yesterday I headed out after the rain, my usual route and it felt good. I got some headspace away from the kids and day to day stressors. I found myself thinking a lot about the fact that it’s a year to the day since my diagnosis. The smells of the season, the cold weather evocatively places me right back there. The horror of the diagnosis, the stress of trying to manage something completely out of your own control. I think it saddened me at the time that I suddenly had to concentrate on saving my own life. It sounds dramatic but that’s how it felt. And even that felt a little selfish and greedy and indulgent in itself. How did I get to the point in my head where the thought of trying to save my own life seemed indulgent? There is something so painstakingly real about that being your main priority. I think the fact that I felt alone in doing it (despite the support of friends and family) was scary for me. I often think of human beings as needing others to survive yet they’re inherently alone, tiny and insignificant on the face of it. The fact that I placed so much importance on myself as a person, as a Mum, as a partner, a daughter, seemed ridiculous, deluded and rather sad given my relative insignificance in the grand scheme of things. It saddened me because while I was absolutely driven to rid myself of cancer as quickly and efficiently as I knew how, all the while I had in the back of my head, ‘where’s the point in all this scrambling to survive?’

I still don’t really understand the point of anything we human’s do, but I know it felt electric to be back out there with my shoes leaving little splashes behind them from the soaked pavement. I realised that running has been a constant enjoyment all my life. I was tired but I knew my legs could just keep going. One in front of the other – it felt good. It got me to thinking that even better than that is the delicious feeling I get when rubbing my cheek up against my daughter’s little weary stinky morning face. To see a genuine glimpse of joy and wry humour on my often surly nine year old son’s face. To see my five year old running with glee towards his team mates after scoring a soccer goal. To share a glass of wine and hilariously funny joke with my favourite girlfriend, Chris. To passionately kiss my partner and feel so much warmth and electricity and love for him. I really do like my short, insignificant life, I always have. I should run more often.

I’m definitely running forward, towards more good stuff. I’m ready to embark on reconstruction, and I’m ready to be kinder and more accepting of myself all in one.