Monday, October 11, 2010

Car days



I started the day feeling great. It was the first time in over 6 weeks that the sharp pains I would get in my tummy and pelvis were totally gone when I moved. It felt beyond incredible!

I made breakfast. I took a shower. I made my clients meals and snacks for the day (I’m a private personal trainer & nutritionist/control freak that monitors every morsel of food my clients consume). I even planned to go to the chiropractor!

I got in my car, slowly pulled out of the driveway, made it about halfway to my destination...

And I started sobbing.

Pain just hit me. I felt like I was being stabbed. It was like everything I had done this morning had waited for one moment to crush me. I stopped my car on the side of the road for about 15 minutes, waiting for the pain to go away.

It didn’t.

Dr. S would have to be another day. I drove back to the house and carefully got out the car. I shuffled to my room, frustrated with defeat, and carefully got back in bed.

Dear, God, why the highs and lows? If it isn’t enough to have to deal with a incurable disease that hurts me physically, why the ups and downs?

Why the hope, followed so quickly by the despair?

Why the confidence, followed by the sudden fear?

A friend once told me that if God told us our life plan in detail ahead of time, then we would not be able to experience life to the fullest. So I wonder, if I knew the exact days and nights when I’d be hurting, would I still appreciate the days when I feel great? And If I knew that I’d be able to have a baby on my own someday, even with a disease that attacks fertility, would I love that baby any less?

It was only two months ago when I ran 28 miles on my own “just for the challenge”. People hear about my endurance runs and bike rides....and say I’m crazy.

Maybe I am.

But maybe the reason I love to run for miles, bike for hours, and lift the heavy weights is because I know what it feels like to be in pain for weeks on end. I don’t always know when the bad pain days will come or how long they will last. God hasn’t told me the details of how many good days I’ll have in the coming months (I’m shooting for 100% though).

So when the pain is dull and my body feels great, I run my heart out. I imagine every single abnormal growth and painful adhesion leaving my body as I sweat. The memories of being stuck in bed push me to run faster and get stronger. It makes me so happy to feel good that I often smile when I train. Sometimes, I even burst out in random laughter.


I have glorious days when I can run for miles, lift like crazy, and bike across state lines.



Then there are days I make it to the car.

Today, just happened to be a car day.


1 comment:

  1. I have so been there, and it breaks my heart even reading this... It just shouldn't be so hard. :(

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