The first day in may that I set out on the pavement to train for this hair-brained idea, I was sure I had lost it. I wanted to go back home and I wanted to stop and walk but I also wanted to do what I set out to do. And in the spring when it was cool in the morning and I was the only one up, it really wasn't that bad. And, when I ran my first 5K in August and was sure I was suffocating because it was 100 degrees, it really wasn't that bad. And, the day before my birthday when I made it to 4 miles in under 8 minutes a mile, it was really good. And, today, when I was surrounded by a team of people who drove 200 miles to be there for me and an army of people at home praying, cheering, and wearing bright pink shirts, it was awesome.
Today was full of moments. It started at 5:15 when I took my chemo drug and then bent down to tie my running shoes. I smiled at the irony of it all. I was already on my knees so it was the perfect time to pray. It was quick but I thanked God for the drug that I just swallowed to keep my blood from killing me and for the ability to feel my feet in the shoes I was wearing and the ability to not only get down to tie my shoe but to get up again. I then thanked Him for all of the people who watch this journey and are inspired to give because of what God keeps doing for me and for the people He would continue to help because of the money they gave. Then, I went to Starbucks.
The next moment came sometime during the race when I was running on some path in the middle of no place in Nashville that I've ever seen. There was really no one around me - sky, field, and a path of pavement. I thanked God once again for that moment - to feel my legs moving one after another, without thinking about where I was putting them and if they would land there. That moment pretty much carried me to the finish line.
And, then there was a moment after I got my medal when I heard the cheers and I turned around to see my husband coming toward me to hug me. As sure as the tattoo of my name on his wrist, there is no doubt he got it - not that I met a goal, ran a race, raised some money - but pushed through cancer and fought back to get to that very moment and hopefully many more just like it.
I've never run with anyone before but Lauren was in town so we ran together for the first time the other
night. She's way more athletic and coordinated than I'll ever be certainly more competitive than I could ever dream, but at least I was prepared for this challenge. We ran over 3 miles at a pretty decent pace and even if either one of us was dying we wouldn't have stopped. And, there was the moment. We said nothing just ran and both realized how far I'd come since the day she had to carry me up the hill to the car at Vanderbilt because I couldn't get my legs to go and the days when I could walk but not yet run and would have her watch me run across the yard to see if it was any better. Even though she couldn't make it too the race, I've always been grateful for her timing and her presence and this week was no exception.
That's how life is - full of moments. Cancer has taught me to savor them and stack them up. Today I stacked them up in a little pile and I will go back to them over and over. Back to the group of people in pink shirts at the finish line who should be just as proud of themselves as they are of me for giving the support that was needed to get us where we are. Back to the sight of my little girl jumping up and down because her mommy got the medal that she hoped she would get. Back to my husband's face. Back to my knees that I can now get down to and know that I will get back up. Back to the God that created me and has a plan for a hope and a future.
Thank you for your gifts,
Kimberly
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