...and then the baby threw up.
Laidlaw's Rule doesn't work when the story you are telling is about your own life. Fleming's Rule adds just the right amount of disruption, eliciting sympathy and empathy because the baby never throws up when you have bandwidth.
So of course the third snowbound day in a row hit on the busiest day of my month and ended with the baby throwing up in the suitcase I'd just packed that was sitting on the bed next to my oldest daughter. Laidlaw's Rule purports to make the first line of every story more interesting; I think Fleming's law does, too. Last time I ran a successful marathon I spent the evening in the ER at Children's the night before my flight, so maybe this is a good sign?
Mercury is going into retrograde tonight; I'll take any good sign I can get. It's been three years since that successful marathon, and the years in between have been filled with chronic pain and fear; an unpaid vacation I'd never wanted to take. These past three years I've clung to every shred of hope I could find, and hell yeah that includes astrology. Beggars know we can't be discerning. I looked for anything that would keep my spark of hope alive.
I focused all of my efforts on healing my body so I could be what my family needed me to be, and I wasn't discerning- ANYTHING that could maybe provide relief, I tried it. Salt caves. Magnesium baths. Acupuncture. Pilates. Physical therapy. Anti-inflammatory diets. Herbal teas. Chinese medicine. SOUND BATHS. I went full-fledged white-girl wellness in every direction, all because my doctors didn't take me seriously when I said something was wrong.
It took two years to find the tumor and an hour to remove it; that happened 12 weeks ago. This weekend, I may run a marathon. Like nothing ever happened.
I'm not going to let anyone forget that it happened.
I'm never going to stop talking about the tumor, or reduce the three years it took to be ready to run the NYC Marathon to that of a 12-week training plan. The road was long and lonely AF. It was scarier than any Halloween story floating around the Interwebs. That I am packing for a marathon right now is due to my two superpowers: I am Tenacious AF, and I never stop believing. (Spoken like a true distance runner)
I have no idea what to expect on Sunday, and I don't care. No finish time will tell you how much work, faith and tenacity it took for me to get to the start line, because no one ever talks about the work. We glorify the rewards.
My reward is being here, where my story begins, with the baby throwing up 18 hours before a series of interviews to launch the book I wrote, an activity book for injured runners to complement the support program I designed to connect me to the people who need my superpowers the most, on my way to run a marathon.
This is me, clapping LOUDLY for myself while I wait for the laundry to cycle, telling you about the 400 miles it took to get to the start line of this race. Once I cross the finish line, I'm coming for the rest of you Tenacious AF runners who need a light in the darkness to keep going. Then, I'm gonna cheer twice as loudly for you. It's gonna happen, I BELIEVE it. You have no idea what you are capable of. I cannot wait to show you.
It may be hard to believe in you right now, and I get that. Rest assured, I have enough faith for both of us and enough bandwidth to accommodate you....even when the baby throws up.
#coachedandloved #runnerinterrupted
NOTE: the photos below are of the draft copies; the book should be available before Christmas.
