We are in full swing now, training for the Eugene Marathon on April 29th. I had some very clear thoughts when the alarm sounded this morning at 6:30 AM on a Sunday. I was thinking about how this part of the marathon experience is actually harder than the run. Now that I am awake and have had a few swallows of coffee, I would like to retract that thought.
No rain today. It will be in the 40s this morning, a temperature I actually enjoy while running. None of that is really what is on my mind, though.
I was met this morning by a Facebook picture of a dear friend of my husband. His friend had been in the ER again last night because he has cancer, in its final stages, and he has been reduced to a thin, unrecognizable image of who I remember. The slew of comments that followed the portrait were heartfelt, touching even. I couldn't help but imagine all of my excuses laid out before me, between me and this picture. And not just excuses to not run either. No. I have been faced with scheduling my next MRI and have been putting it off for fear of bad news. Somehow, the image of this man, still young and hopeful, but transformed by his illness to a much older version of himself, now weak and frail, somehow this image has brought me around to my own senses. It has been a wake-up call, in the sense that I need to put aside my own fears and try my best to make it through my own ailments and disease, just like I have seen this man do over the years since his first diagnosis. ..and even now.
Even now, emergency room and medical people and death knocking but not yet entreating, he is peaceful. I think this is the thing that prods me the most. I want to say thank you to him for giving that to me, but I know better. Instead, I will go out and do my training run this morning. I will schedule my MRI. I will. I should do it gladly, but it is enough to do it.