Running The Race

I went to a track meet the other day and found myself on sensory overload. There was so much going on at one time, so many schools with various jerseys, this event or that being announced one after another and just a lot of noise in general. After many phone calls, I finally found my daughter amongst all the teenage kids, waiting for their respective events to begin. Ours, just so, happened to take place at the end of the day so it made for a long day of waiting, picture taking and people watching. I actually like to watch people and observe their different behaviors so I didn't really mind this wait much at all.

As the day wore on, the events seemed to get longer and longer. At one point, while sitting in the stands watching a girl's event that was rather long, it was obvious they were getting tired coming down the homestretch. Then I saw her. The girl at the very end of the very long line of girls running toward the finish line. There was something about her that I found fascinating. I pulled up my camera and took her picture before I even realized it and then it hit me... I am that girl!

Well, I don't mean that in a literal sense, obviously. However, when I saw her bringing up the rear, clearly much slower than the rest of the pack in front of her, with this look of 'why-even-try' on her face, I could immediately relate to her situation. I looked at my friend sitting next to me, who happened to see her at the same time I did and said, "And that would be me... dragging up the rear, barely hanging on in this race of life, BUT not giving up!" We laughed, but there was a certain amount of truth to that statement.

Even though I don't understand why things had to happen the way they did or when they did, the point remains is that they did happen and I can't go back to undo any of it. So now what? Maybe today wasn't a good day to write, because today is one of those days that I either want to stay in bed and cope with it all by sleeping or get out and hit the road with no particular destination in mind and just drive until I run out of gas.

My life, after a year-and-a-half, still feels so up and down and I find that frustrating. I still get angry when I hear statistics about heart failure patients. I don't want to be defined by this scar running down the middle of my chest or the amount of pills I take each day. This is the point at which the race gets hard and I just want to throw my hands up, but... something inside keeps pushing me on toward that finish line. Maybe it has a little something to do with this saying I've sort of lived my life by since hearing it about twenty- five years ago: "Tell me I can't and I'll show you I can!" Yes, I have a stubborn streak and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It is what it is.

Whatever the case, this is life. And it's a hard day in the life of being me. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I won't look at all the people who complain about everything and not want to shake some sense into them. Tomorrow, I will be more appreciative of all the little things in life that I am able to accomplish instead of focusing on what is taxing on my body, wearing me down. Tomorrow I just might go shopping and love every minute of it. Tomorrow, the sun will come out. Tomorrow... you're only a day away. And tomorrow, I'll be one step closer to the finish line.

xoxoxo